Built like ?

Inside the brick factory Francois Bouchon glanced up from his work. Around him the workers remained focus on cutting a slab of clay and throwing it into the former. Their rough knuckles needed the clay into the corners of the timber moulds removing any air before they drew a thin cat gut across the top to remove any excess.

'Clay Boys', too young to work the brick shift, collected the spoil and took it to the clay pile where Augustine Pierre Renflon the III slowly fed it into the turning bowls to be reconstituted.

Francois Bouchon was a giant amongst the workers. Not just because he stood head and shoulders above them and was as wide as two but also he commanded respect for the dexterity of his massive digits. It was just as well because, although mighty, he did suffer from a condition that in a slighter man would have resulted in non stop teasing.

Indeed it was as a result of his condition and size that the area for bodily excretion had been enlarged and strengthened. Francois Bouchon had irritable bowel syndrome and his constant trips had broken the previous timber construction. Now the brick factory's toilet was built from their own products.

As Francois perched on the seat for the fifth time that morning his co-workers little realised that their muttered comments about having build a brick toilet for him would someday become the colloquial expression for someone quite so large.

Days 26 to 37

Day 26. My bare feet can now feel the warmth of the sand. As I get nearer to the sea each step I leave behind fills with water and I can watch the sand fold in and erase its memory of my journey across it. Once again the tiny miracles of nature can bring such joy and rekindle the wonder of a child. Gulls circle overhead reminding me of my gloom and fear

Day 27. I step into the water and feel a childhood joy. It’s gently lapping at my ankles feels like the rubbing of a cat as it winds between your legs - soft, warm, calming. As I gaze out to sea I realise that this is the first time I have been in the water since the storm. A flashback from that terrible night makes my body shudder. I can see my family washed over board as I cling to the side. A tsunami of guilt hits me and I fall back limp onto the beach.

Day 28. The beauty of the beach is shattered by the realisation of my cowardice. I let my family down. That is why we were split up. I held onto the boat to save my life rather than go with them. The truth of the real me leaves me ashamed and sick.

Day 29. If I let them down on the night of the storm I will not let them down now. I will redouble my efforts to find them. Whatever sins of the past can be assuaged by the actions of today. I stand and walk down the beach with renewed purpose and energy. Whatever it takes I will find them.

Day 30. The sun is strong and the light bouncing off the sea and the sand produces tricks for my eyes. Along the length of the beach, which seems to stretch to infinity, the waves ebb and flow as a single white line that is fluorescent in its brightness. It is hard to scan the beach in this light.

Day 31. My eyes must deceive me. In the distance I can see three shapes on the beach. Three shapes halfway between the sea line and the hills. I rub my eyes and they are gone but as the kaleidoscopic view caused by the pressure of my rubbing dissolves my eyesight settles again they are there. Unmistakable.

Day 32. I run. I run as fast as I can screaming their names. I run but the distance between us seems not to diminish. It is like a nightmare where no matter how hard you run you cannot cover the distance. This is real but they are just further away than I thought.

Day 33. My screams produce no response. I run and scream in desperation. Getting nearer the shapes begin to take on human forms but I notice the gulls on and around them. I stop running and within me something else stops too.

Day 34. How can I feel like this and not just die. There is nothing. I am empty. I cannot hear, I cannot see, I am a void, a cypher. Words like desolate do not approach how I am feeling. Everything I had is gone and it is my fault. I want the sand to swallow me whole. The racking guilt. They would have wanted me to be like this but they are not here to tell me.

Day 35. I have dug three holes near the rocks. The sand here is stable and does not collapse in on itself. In between digging I have been trying to keep the gulls away. One by one I move them to where they will rest. I cannot believe in a god but I want to say something. I stare at the sky and scream “I love you” as tears falls unstopped

Day 36. With the sand replaced I build a cairn to honour the site. This hard physical work acts as a penance. The blood from my fingers and arms stain the stones as I place them. It feels as it should be. I let them down, left them to die and I too should be hurt.

Day 37. With the work done I sit and sob until there are no more tears. The pain in my head overwhelms me. I understand what a broken heart means but is my head the feels fractured as well. I feel like I could go mad. Ooh, is that dolphin?

Where do you live?

In a house filled with love and confidence the sound of wind in the trees is heard as gentle words of encouragement. In a house of fear the wind in the trees is heard as whispered words of threat and doubt.

The house is not built of bricks and timber but from our body and mind. The wind is the sound of our inner voice. If that voice fills you with fear and doubt your house will be small and unwelcoming. If it is filled with confidence and love it will be big enough for your life and many others.

Can you hear that breeze? Where do you live?

A Poem

words

so many spoken in life

at what value

at what cost

but when you write

words weigh heavier

meaning locked

eternal

considered

valued

really?
does the written carry such import
let's see

deftly dancing with melons

the crowd sensed the danger

butterkist fingers reached out

satin stained flares

one small slip for mankind

blue ribbon biscuits

left on one side

life on the 131 top deck

Told you it was rubbish

Peace

“What are you thinking about?”

“You.”
“Why?”

“Because you always occupy my brain.”
“Don’t say silly things, you are always saying silly things.”
“Not quite true but I know that I can.”

“Well?”

“Well what?”
“What are you thinking about?”

“I’m wondering whether it is possible for me to live without you. Whether it is possible to get on with my life without you infiltrating my thoughts”

“You sound obsessed.”
“I sound like someone at the end of his tether.”
“We get on all right.”
“No we don’t. You undermine me. You make me doubt myself. You contaminate my thoughts.”

“Get you, ‘contaminate’. I love it when you pretend to be an intellectual.”
“Oh for god’s sake, I’m going out.”

“I’ll stay here.”

“Good.”
“Don’t slam the door.”

“Look, I’m closing it quietly with the key. And now I am walking down our street as briskly as possible to put as much distance between you and me. Now I am crossing the road and walking towards the bridge. I am going to watch the cars pass underneath. It calms me to think that I could be in one speeding away from you.

“Slow down, I’m coming too.”
“You promised you wouldn’t”
“I can’t leave you.”

“You can, you can. Please leave me, please leave me alone.”
“But what would you do without me?”

“Find peace”

“Get down off the bridge.”

“No – I want peace.

The young man driving the car glanced up at the bridge he was approaching. He could see a lone figure climb onto the railing top and jump. He was going too fast to brake and for a brief moment the body travelled on his bonnet before bouncing over the top of his speeding car.

Day 16 to 25

Day 16. I can’t stop looking but each day that goes by eats into my hope. It is possible that there are other islands and they are safe there. My heart wants that to be true. I don’t care if they are not here with me as long as they are safe. I must keep looking though. There is still a chance that they are either on one of the beaches or have moved inland. I will need to stock up again on food and water soon but I have enough to keep going for now.

Day 17. I have no sense how big this island is, or indeed if it is an island. All I know is that I will keep looking until I find them. They are my everything. Without them there seems little point so I must find them. Watching the sea I can begin to see the flow of the waves. I have replenished my food and water and have decided to go in the other direction over the cliffs.

Day 18. It is a hard climb and all the strains and bruising from the capsizing mean it is a painful one. I have to stop regularly to gather my breath and to massage a particularly painful area on my leg. I can feel the bone near the surface but it can’t be broken because I couldn’t work. Finally, after twice slipping down on loose rocks I am at the top. My body is shaking with the effort but from here I can begin to get a sense of how large this land is and how much searching I will have to do.

Day 19. I will have to clamber down the other side of the cliffs to get to the next beach or can I just trust my eyes to scan over the sands. Given how much I have to explore and if I am to find them quickly perhaps it would be better initially just to check from above. I can see nothing on this first beach. A thought comes to me that I may want to come back and inspect beaches in more detail but how will I know which I have done already. I pick up a large rock and throw it down onto the sand. This will be my reminder.

Day 20. I am walking along what would be a coastal path if more people walked it. As it is, I am having to break ground and the long grasses and roots capture my legs and make it heavy going. After what feels like hours I can see down onto another beach. The angle of the sun makes it hard to view but finally I convince myself this beach is empty. I search for a large rock amongst the grasses and throw it down onto the sand.

Day 21. The path is following the contour of the cliff and begins a gentle slope down making the walking easier. It is now more of hill and the terrain friendlier. I have passed a series of bays. They were difficult to inspect but I am convinced that there was no one on them. I have thrown rocks onto each and on one two rocks as there was an area I couldn’t really see well.

Day 22. The promontory I am on clearly takes the brunt of the weather. The trees are cowed away from the shoreline. Some in silhouette look like old figures turning their crooked backs to the wind to shelter their face. It is quite wonderful how nature adapts and survives and this thought brings me comfort as I think of my wife and children.

Day 23. On the other side of the headland is a long golden beach. I stopped at the top of what should be a route down the sand and took out some food. Within moments I am being surrounded by gulls. I am reminded of Hitchock’s ‘The Birds’ and my hatred of these ‘seaside pigeons’ increases. There is something quite evil in their eyes and I don’t believe I am anthropomorphising. They are harbingers of doom to me.

Day 24. It was wonderful to climb down to this quite beautiful unspoilt beach. If it were not for the dark clouds of fear that fill my head I could believe this was the most wonderful moment of my life. The scene is like from a dream. Endless sand, the bluest of skies and sea and the wonderful shades of green on the hills that provide a background to frame the scene.

Day 25. My bare feet can now feel the warmth of the sand. As I get nearer to the sea each step I leave behind fills with water and I can watch the sand erase the memory of my journey across it. Once again the tiny miracles of nature can bring such joy and rekindle the wonder of a child.