The Weighing Station

He emerged from the foggy cloud a little disorientated. In the distance he could see two people looking expectantly at him. He smiled and walked towards them, gradually beginning to recover his confidence and sense of status.

As he neared he gave them his half smile. A smile that showed power, one that he had used for over twenty years to ensure that people, even those who didn’t know him, knew how important he was.

“Ian?” one of the strangers asked in questioning tone.

“Yes,” said Ian abruptly, thinking, never give more away than is needed.

“Good,” said the second, “Then we must get on.” He pointed to what looked like a square metal grid on the floor. “Would you mind?”

Ian paused for a moment wondering how to keep authority in this confusing situation. “Mind?” he asked with slightly arched eyebrow.

“Stepping onto the plate,” said the first.

“And why would I do that?” asked Ian, his voice showing the first hint of irritation.

“We need to weigh you,” said the second. “This is the Weighing Station, this is where we weigh your life.”

“I’m sorry,” he paused, “The Weighing Station? Where the hell am I?”

The two strangers stared at each other. Finally one spoke.

“Ian,” he said calmly, “What is the last thing that you can remember?”

Ian paused and began the process of thinking back. He was in his office. He was shouting at those fools from Marketing. He was showing them who was boss. He might be physically short but what he lacked in height he made up for in sheer management aggression. Then another thought. The pain in his arm, then across his chest, the breathlessness and then the fall forward onto his desk.

Slowly it dawned on him.

“Can you step onto the plate so we can weigh your life,” The calm voice of the first stranger spoke and Ian stepped forward in a daze.

“Thank you,” said the second placing a hand upon Ian’s shoulder.

“Right, let’s start with ‘Joy’,” said the first as he brought out a monitor. Both strangers stared at the screen as Ian watched. After a little while the first gave the monitor a tap.

“Problem?” asked Ian beginning to recover his composure.

“Not a problem,” said the first, “It’s just we are registering very little ‘Joy’ in your life.

“Nonsense,” said Ian, “I have had plenty of joy in my life. I have owned some fine houses, created magnificent businesses, eaten in the finest ……”

Before he could finish the second stranger spoke. “It’s not the joy that you had, it’s the joy you brought to others.”

“Let’s try ‘Care’,” said the first. Both of them scrutinised the screen.

“I cared all my life,” said Ian, “I cared enough to build massive organisations giving jobs to thousands. I made their lives.”

“We can see what you did but did you really care for the people who worked for you? Did you care about them or was it what they could do for you and your ambition?” asked the first.

Ian did not like these two strangers. They had no idea what it was like to run a business. No idea what you had to give up to create such success. You couldn’t waste time caring about people. The greater good was served by building a successful business and then rewarding those that worked hard. “I paid my people well,” he said firmly.

“In money possibly,” said the second. The silence that followed was deafening.

Ian could feel his anger growing. He wasn’t used to being spoken to like this. He had nothing to feel guilty about. He had worked hard, played hard, treated people hard but he had created something special, something that would last. He had some of the best paid management in the country and they did what he said. They respected him, loved him.

“Love,” said the second.

“You cannot fault me there,” said Ian. “I loved my wife, loved my family, loved my friends.”

“That’s good. We measure the love you spread and the love you earned.”

Ian fell silent. As he began to reflect on his life he wondered whether he had truly loved his wife and family. In fact at times he had felt that they had got in the way of his ambition. He knew that he loved them but was it really duty love rather than the genuine love he should have felt. And friends? Did he really have any or were they really business acquaintances. People to keep close for what they might be able to do for him in the future. And who loved him? His wife? His children? He realised that he had hardly seen them having been so busy building his business. His old friends, those from years back, he had gradually dropped as their relative lack of status reflected badly on him.

“Well?” demanded Ian, “What’s the result?”

“I’m afraid we can’t tell you that,” said the lifting two white discs from the screen. “Only you can truly know what joy, care and love you gave to others. How many lives you made better, how many people you helped, how many people you loved and loved you. That is the true weight to someone’s life.”

Ian saw the two discs come towards him. As they rested on his chest he jerked in spasm.

“It’s OK,” said the first, “It’s settled, I think we’ve stabilised it.”

“Well done,” said the second.”

“My god,” said a voice he recognised, “Are those tears falling, is he crying?”

“I didn’t think he could?” said another voice he knew.

Through bright fluorescent yellow and white he could hear the first strangers voice. “It’s amazing how many people seem to cry when we bring them back.”

Day 264 to 271 - a catch up for those on the journey

Day 264. Beyond the photographs are posters, presumably of films that are being shown. The graphics and style are just so evocative of a time as are the titles. ‘2001: A Space Oddity’, ‘Funny Girl’ and ‘Carry on Up the Khyber’. This was the diet of the day in a time when there was more communal contact. A common language developed through shared experiences. I gaze almost reverentially wondering where my own memories of this come from. Something is drawing on a deep pool of thought and emotion and I’m not sure how comfortable if feel. Is there something I am hiding from myself?

Day 265. My eyes have grown accustomed to the dark and I can see much better now. My concentrated gaze at the posters had shut out the noise but now as I turn away I can hear the sound of sirens and shouting outside. I move quietly across the lobby to the most wonderfully carved wood box office. The glass whilst dirty has not been broken and has the circular hole cut out to allow people to converse and the gap at the bottom for money and tickets to cross. I pause as I see the ticket prices. Top seat four shillings  and ten and half pennies. It is a long time since I thought of half pennies and I can almost feel my pockets begin to fill with shrimps, black jacks, fruit salads. A wave of nostalgia almost drowns me in sadness.

Day 266. The thoughts of simple sweets means I stand staring into the grave of my childhood. Where did it go? What happened to the innocence of summer holidays, the belief in Christmas, the love of best friends. To run as fast as you can, to jump from a chair believing you could fly, to believe, to believe. The sound of the hoardings being rattled brings me back to the right now. What has been happening to me? I am so confused by my recent past. I slowly open the door to the box office and creep in.

Day 267. There is a door at the back of the Box Office that leads into another room. The back room is just about lit by the diffused sunlight from the foyer. I feel my way in and shrink back against the wall holding my breath and praying for them to go away. The rattling continues but then a voice shouts and there is the sound of running feet and then silence. I breathe out and feel my body relax.

Day 268. The room is too dark for me to make out very much but I can see a small box of matches under the desk of the box office. I step out into the foyer and pick them up. They rattle as I lift them. I slide the box open and realise it has been a lifetime since I saw this brand of Lucifer. Then the stab of frustration. Why the hell do people put spent matches back into the box. I tip them out onto the counter and find two that have not been struck.

Day 269. I need to make some form of a torch. I take the brown paper wrapping from around the candles that were by the box of matches and twist it to make a wick. I now need some cloth and stick. It will be a little ‘burn the monster’ but it should ….. I look back at the candles. There is an old expression but I can’t remember what it is. I pick up one of the candles and place it carefully upright on the wooden counter.

Day 270. Now in a film the first match would break and the second light and then either fizzle out or fizzle and then spark back into flame. Life is not like the movies. The first match catches as if new and the candle flame glows. It is not a blinding light but it will allow me to explore. I stuff the other candles and the remaining match into my pocket and turn once more to enter the darkened room.

Day 271. The candle light flickers over the darkened room and I can begin to make out what lies in there. There are four wooden trays with the fabric bands to go round the neck. I recognise them from a past when they would have been packed with sweets, drinks and ice creams. The ushers would bring them down the aisles. Now all of that ‘theatre’ is done in the foyer. I can remember when the trays became plastic and sponsored by ice cream companies but these are an original beautiful rich wood that even the layers of dust can’t hide. I lift one of the straps but it falls apart in my hands much as memories do.

Where do the Days go 256 - 263

Day 256. As we processed together along the street the Police dash backwards and forwards looking for me. Despite the fact that I should have been panicked at the thought of being caught I found the regular chanting along with Harry and Chris incredibly relaxing, almost hypnotic. I begin to think that if I could get the DCI and DI to chant along with me they might begin to believe my explanations.
Day 257. I was about to shout at the Police to join in when I snapped out of my spiritual calm. I clearly cannot spend the rest of my life in this group so I going to have to figure out at way to break from this set. I slowly moved myself to the front so I could guide and lead us away from where the police were congregated. I headed for an old cinema I could see at the other end of the road. It is boarded up but may offer just a chance of a hiding place.

Day 258. Slowly we process, orange clad and singing. For some we are a religious movement, for some happy Dutch fans, for some a threatening mass Tango moment. However to the Police we are invisible. Thank god major criminals have never worked this disguise out. As the gap between our group and the group of officers increases I am able to look at more detail at the cinema. There is a small gap in the hoardings. If I can just squeeze my way in without attracting attention I may be safe.

Day 259. As we pass the old boarded up cinema I quickly push into the gap in the hoardings and manage to slip inside without attracting attention. I quickly throw off my orange fabric robe and place my tambourine onto the ground. Only a few of the chanting group notice me leave them and they are quickly distracted by a new round of chanting. I peer through a knot hole in one of the sheets of wood. The Police are breaking up into small groups and beginning to search the area. They sound of more sirens fills the air. The hoarding are filthy with dust and dirt. It is years since anyone has been in here

Day 260. Behind the hoardings the front of the cinema is quite magnificent. Even though time and the elements have treated it badly it has a semi gothic semi deco charm and you can still make out some of the gold highlights that pick out curls and details in the plasterwork. The three sets of wooden double doors are from an oak that you rarely see anymore. It is a testament to their quality that they are still solid whereas the timber nailed across them crumbles to my touch as a lever them away. I have to move quietly to avoid detection

Day 261. A pain of glass in the end door is cracked. I can just reach my hand through. I can feel an emergency escape bar on the inside. I just need to bash it but the noise will attract attention. At that very moment of thought the sound of siren goes by. I hit the bar on the beat of noise and the doors separate slightly. I push one half slowly, age has made it stiff but it slowly moves to reveal the foyer. I step into the darkness and am instantly reminded of stepping out into the light after afternoon films.

Day 262. There are odd shafts of lights where panes of glass are broken and they appear like spotlights on the walls illuminating fragments of this cinemas past. I have no idea how long ago this building was closed but it was clearly before the desire to make all cinemas multiplex with sanitised fittings and over promotion of product. Here is another world, a calmer time. The walls have the remains of flock wallpaper now stained and with fungal growth but it is the framed pictures that catch the attention. Film stars and films from a time when their personal lives were secret and we only saw them through the flickering shadows of 16 and 35mm film.

Day 263. I am transfixed by the photographs of the film stars. What is it about black and white pictures that make them so wonderful in their artistry. It is a strange collection and selection of personalities. The American stars were giants astride a celluloid world. James Stewart, Marilyn Monroe, Spencer Tracey, Katherine Hepburn, Gregory Peck but, with the exception of Cary Grant, the British Stars reveal another style of film making. I am staring at the ghosts of Norman Wisdom, Sid James, Hattie Jacques, Joan Sims, Ian Carmichael and more. There faces warm me.

Planning the Future

Andre and Adele Voyens were happy in the UK. They had decided to make the big move after considering what their future would be like if they had stayed in their own country. Although nothing was guaranteed they chose to change their lives forever.

They suffered no prejudice and found their new life delivered everything they had hoped for. After three years their small business was growing and so they took the brave decision to try for a child hoping that the future would bring further growth.

Fortune did not smile immediately but after two years Adele proudly announced that she was carrying their child. Together they sat at their dining table hands held and eyes staring into each others. Together they began to plan a future for their new family.

Six months later they were blessed with a beautiful baby girl. Years passed and their little girl became a teenager. It was around this time that their daughter began to show her remarkable gift.

When the family sat together and discussed their future plans their daughter showed a remarkable gift for predicting what would happen. Indeed, it was an uncanny ability.

It wasn’t just the family who noticed her gift. At school her friends would often ask her to tell them what they should do and what might happen to them. 

There was no doubt that Claire Voyens was a very special girl.

It's those Days again 248 - 255

Day 249. “Hello, hello, who is this? Is someone there?” I hear my voice speaking. Slowly I take the telephone away from my ear and place the receiver onto the cradle. I look at the two Inspectors. “All right then,” I say quietly. “I don’t know what’s going on but whatever it is can’t be any worse than is happening in my head. Ask your questions.” I sit back pushing the table to move my chair back.

Day 250. Well now it’s odd how things can happen. What I had intended to do was use the table to push my chair back. Unfortunately my chair legs caught in a rip in the lino so I ended putting all my weight onto the table pushing it rapidly into the midriffs of the two Police Officers. It totally winded them and knocked the tape recorder and exhibit bags to the floor. I have no idea what possessed me but the thought of having to explain that simple accident when all my other explanations have just got me further into trouble meant I just ran for the door.

Day 251. I do believe I may have made life a little harder for myself. Having run down the corridor I managed to time my arrival at the locked door just as a PC carrying at tray of tea was opening the door with his back. It tried to avoid him as I pushed through the partly open door but I could hear the clattering of the tray and cups as I bounded up the stairs. “Damn,” I thought, “I bet one of those was for me,” but it was too late. Before anyone could even shout I was through the lobby of the Station and out onto the street.

Day 252. I looked to left and right and chose to run left as two PC’s were slowly walking toward the Police Station from the other direction. As I began to run I heard a shout from behind me. “Stop that man!” I didn’t pause to look round but ran quickly down a side street and into an outdoor market. Isn’t it handy how often outdoor markets are nearby when you are trying to escape people. There were some very good meat bargains as well as a stall that was selling hand made jewelry.

Day 253. I was going to run right through the market and onto the street beyond but then I saw a large pile of cardboard boxes and all my memories suggested there would be the place that the Police car would skid to a halt to catch me. Instead a grabbed a length of material, wrapped it round me and sat on the floor playing a tambourine that was handily available at the stall next to the fabric purveyor.

Day 254. I was hoping to blend into the crowd but my bright orange fabric wrap and tambourine playing seemed to be attracting a crowd. Amazingly within moments I am surrounded by people in similar garb chanting along with my percussive music. I stood up and tried to lose them but wherever I walked they followed. At that moment a group of police officers came running at us. I feared the worst and was ready to hand myself in but they pushed through us shouting, “Get out of the way” in slightly ripe language.

Day 255. Somehow I have to lose the crowd of orange robed figures who have decided to walk with me. As we processed I asked the nearest to me who they all were. He spoke very quietly but I gathered that his name was Harry, and next to him was Chris but I couldn’t catch the rest. I started to walk slowly to allow them to pass me. Just as I made my way to the back I saw the DCI turn the corner and look at us. “Harry, Chris,” I said urgently which started another round of chanting. I made my way into the centre of the pack and relative safety.