Musing on a Dreary Day
The thoughts of Amanda, Jim and others.
Part One
Please scroll down for parts Nine and Ten
I
know we said we’d just carry on doing what we set out to do but
that was pretty stupid when you think about it. For a start, if you
make your living from carrying cargo, then you need a cargo to carry
and Mayfly is simply too small for most. It’s also bloody cold
and doesn’t have a toilet! Peeing in the bushes may sound
amusing, and it’s not so bad in the summer months, but they’ve
gone now and its just cold and disgusting now the novelty has worn
off a bit. It’s not that I don’t like living on Mayfly because
I do very much. She makes me feel cosy and secure but I think even
she knows that we need to hole up somewhere whilst the worst shit of
the bad weather passes over. Both Jim and I have had a really bad
cold, and I even managed to slide on some slush and fall in a lock.
Thankfully I’m still here but it could quite easily have turned out
to be my last day on this earth. I guess this makes me sound a bit
ungrateful to Jim. Before he gave me a half share in her, Mayfly
was his boat and I’d rather noisily invaded his life (which was
shitty enough for the poor guy without me stirring more dregs up).
Still we’re here now and prepared to face the future, and the
music, together. I guess that facing the music (or having to) is
ultimately part of what happens when you run away from bad things
when you are just fifteen years old. I say “just” there because
that’s what people would say. You know, “Poor thing, she was
only fifteen.” That’s as may be but it was the only option and,
apart from all the wind, snow, hail, sleet and general shit
descending from the skies at us we have actually achieved a fair bit
over the last few months. Part of that has allowed my parents to
return to the country which is why I’ll have to be facing the
music. They will probably (in equal measures) think that I am
completely feckless, irresponsible and also a bit immoral. Worse
than that they will more than likely think that Jim is some kind of
monstrous ogre that trapped me into a life of whatever they perceive
I have been doing for the last few months. They are reasonable
people though and I expect they will eventually get the fact that
when the law lets you down and the council want to run your life, you
have to take the bull by the horns and make up the rules as you go.
I can see a lot of older people tutting and saying “That way lies
anarchy!” So what if it does. It’s what we did and it bloody
well worked. We were even taken in by a community that seems to
live by having no rules whatsoever. All of which has altered the
way I see the world. In some senses I am still the convent school
privately educated daughter of a well to do family but that image no
longer fits. For a start, my parents are as broke as it gets, and
have been (predictably) rejected by those that were their friends
when they had money. Well, bollocks to that lot is all I can say!
If people only like you because you have cash then they are no
friends of mine. That’s another thing. Yes, Jim and I have had
to deal with some really nasty shits along the way but there were far
more people that helped and encouraged us for sticking by what we
were doing. And what were we doing? Living by our own rules like
a pair of “Bloody Anarchists,” I suppose. Like I said, my
former life no longer fits and I must follow the path that this odd
new one takes me. I no longer want to be the prim and marginally
spoiled brat that I may well have turned into. So, for the record,
on the shittiest of shitty days, with hardly any cash, damp and
confused, I, Amanda Donaldson, am actually pretty happy. So, we
don’t know what will happen tomorrow, nobody does. It’s not
that long since the Cuba Missile Crisis where we could all have ended
up as bloody toast. I’m happy and I’ll take all things that
life throws at me, even if that is a giant pie in the face. ©2019
Michael Nye. www.michaelnyewriter.com
Musing on a Dreary Day
The thoughts of Amanda, Jim and others.
Part Two
A
few weeks ago I was planning this holiday thing where I went off on a
boat and kind of didn’t come back to the same arseholes that I’ve
had to put up with for most of my life. Well, arseholes is being a
bit tough on some of the people but very generous to others so I
guess as an average, arseholes fits the bill pretty well. So, when
I said I just wanted to go away and sort my life out someone did tell
me to be careful of what I wish for because it may come true. I set
off anyway and now I’m in the middle of something that mostly I
didn’t wish for. The boat floated, and the engine ran OK, that
bit was fine, then it all became some kind of mess that I don’t
really understand. The biggest thing in all of the soup is that I’m
not alone. I’m sharing what was my space with another person.
OK a girl if you must know, and she’s kind of posh as well, not the
sort that would even say hello to me normally but here we are.
Amanda (that’s her name) is, or was very talkative but I kind of
knew she was covering up for something, or making the best of a bad
situation. In the end, I guess the situation was that bad that her
running away from it with me in a boat was the best of two bad
options. I mean I could easily be some kind of evil monster that
forces my way on… well, whatever but I guess she’s perceptive
enough to know that I’d find it hard to force the skin off a rice
pudding. I don’t like being pushy so I get pushed around instead.
She probably knows that too, but she doesn’t push me around or
hasn’t done yet. In some ways I sort of feel that I maybe should
have been sensible and gone off on my own but I can’t help liking
Amanda and I do sort of understand that, despite the posh accent and
the money she has been used to, it’s all gone now and she was more
alone that I was. We’ll have to talk about stuff I guess, but
it’s early days at the moment and I’ll wait until she’s ready
to spill the beans. There’s plenty for me to spill too but I
don’t want to load her mind up with my shit. It’s not fair on
her because her stuff is happening now and needs dealing with.
People wanted to take her into care and take her home away so I guess
this is now her home. Even with having to put up with me, and the
fear of the unknown, I do know that living on what she called a
glorified packing case is probably going to be better than being
institutionalised. That’d just knock the stuffing out of her like
it did me, except it would be worse for her because she’s used to
an easier life. I could say that it serves her right but that’d
be mean. She was born to money so she didn’t get any choice and,
she’s basically a nice person, you know, good company and all of
that. Now that the basic embarrassment of being two people of
opposite sex in a pretty small living space is over, I think we’ll
get on well enough to work stuff out. I hope so. In short, I
guess I didn’t wish for sharing my adventure but I’m now happy to
be doing just that. I’m not a miserable person but not that happy
most of the time, or at least I haven’t been. I just roll along
from day to day expecting little and getting little, then I found
Mayfly and things sort of went weird. Amanda is now a part of that
weirdness and I’d really miss her if she wasn’t here. ©2019
Michael Nye. www.michaelnyewriter.com
Musing on a Dreary Day
The thoughts of Amanda, Jim and others.
Part Three
And
so this is Christmas, well, sort of. Most of you won’t have heard
from me yet, but I wouldn’t worry about that. I’m one of those
people whose life has been touched by those two nutters with a wooden
boat that that talk to. In fact I may not even exist if it wasn’t
for them. Then again my Auntie Linda seems to have stuck the boot
in somewhere along the line too. I’m here though and pretty happy
with being alive at this time of year. The house is getting ready
for Christmas, with most of the bits of engineering hardware tidied
or decorated with tinsel. The donkey engine in the garden has a
sign with the words of “Little Donkey” attached firmly to it. I
know because it was me that did it. I even stuck a few bits of
holly to the thing! In the house there is a gearbox in the hallway,
and most of a Bolinder Cub oil engine sat by the back door. Mum has
decided to drive an old Austin 7 which she bought at an auction
instead of anything sensible. I mean it’s pretty cool being
picked up from school in it but it’s also pretty cold at this time
of year. It’s also pretty cool when Dad arrives on his beautiful
old Vincent Motorbike. I sometimes think about other people at
school who say that bowls of nuts often are the first sign that
Christmas is coming. We have them all year round, but you’d break
your teeth on them if you tried eating one! Ours come in various
types like, Whitworth, B.A, Unified and even some metric ones.
They are always neatly laid out and labelled so you can at least be
sure of what you are attempting to eat if you are stupid enough to
attempt it!
As
the day really begins to approach, Mum starts making bad jokes about
her cooking, which actually is a team effort between her and dad, who
makes enough bad jokes about his own abilities. It’s true that
they have had some disasters, like when the pastry caught fire on
some concoction they were doing as a centrepiece. After it was
hacked away, the filling was sort of solid enough to stand for itself
though and was really quite nice. Then there was the skin on Dad’s
special recipe gravy which he reckoned was good enough to make
bicycle tyre patches out of. Again though, once it had been removed
in one rubbery disc, the gravy underneath it was pretty tasty. The
main thing is that we always end up with a Christmas dinner and have
a load of laughs getting to the point where it is served. A lot of
people don’t get anything close and that makes me sad, but also
appreciative of the two complete nutters that are my Mum and Dad.
In spite of their almost obsessive interest in all things made of
metal, they always put my brother and I first and I also know that a
lot of kids would love that bit too. I guess that, even though I
curse the stubbing of my toe on canal boat engines, and not being
able to get to my school shoes because there is a gearbox in the way,
I’m pretty lucky in the grander scheme of things so in a lot of
ways life is pretty good even if the lot at school that keep trying
to get me to make out that I’m neglected in some way. They are
wrong, but when I tell them that I sort of get sent to the head to be
told off which is a pain in the bum. O.K. so we don’t get the
poshest presents on the planet but at least Mum and Dad think about
what we may want and pretty much always get things right. ©2019
Michael Nye. www.michaelnyewriter.com
Musing on a Dreary Day
The thoughts of Amanda, Jim and others.
Part Four
They
played that bloody song on the radio again. I can just about
remember it from the radio when I was a kid but even then it was
probably and oldie. Each verse ends with the line “And then he
kissed me.” That’s kind of OK but a bit sort of sloppy but they
played it the day after the canal festival and now I can’t get it
out of my head. I mean, one minute we’re looking at a certificate
and a little brass plaque and the next… Well, I don’t know what
happened except suddenly I’m kissing someone that I hardly know.
OK so we bonded over painting a little two stroke boat engine, or
that’s what my brother said happened, but I don’t kiss girls. I
don’t kiss anyone because it’s daft. Thing is I kissed her, or
she kissed me, or we kissed each other and it’s got right under my
skin.
I
wrote that in what passes for a diary a couple of days after the
festival and then hid it at the bottom of a drawer like I wanted to
file it out of the way, only they kept playing that bloody song (or
it kept going through my head) so in the end my brother told me to
write her a letter. That’d be fine but I didn’t really know
where she lived. Thanks to her friends it got there and then the
whole year kind of blew its stack. She wrote back, I went and saw
her and now she’s coming up after Christmas. I mean right after
Christmas! Not some fixed date but for the days in between it and
new year. We talked about all the sloppy stuff and Romeo and Juliet
shit when I was down on a school trip, and then things kind of got
screwed over a bit by one of the others on the trip who keeps getting
shit from her parents. Things there are sort of OK now in that
department but it’s still all temporary. I hope things do sort
out because nobody should ever be treated like that. So I guess
it’s pretty selfish of me to be shitting bricks because someone who
isn’t my girlfriend, or at least I’m not sure what she is, is
coming up to spend a few days with my family. I mean I’ve seen
her house and it’s massive compared to Mum and Dad’s and I know
she speaks really posh which will probably annoy the crap out of both
of them but she’s basically a solid person. She just likes
messing with bits of engineering stuff which is kind of boys
territory I guess. I can’t see anything much wrong with it, and
she’s bloody good at it too. I’ve tried to keep my mind off of
all of this, but now people at school know, they keep asking stuff
that I can’t answer. Mostly it’s all good though because a few
of them met her and, despite the posh accent, they kind of just
accepted her as one of us which is good in its way. I’m looking
forward to Christmas, but I’m actually looking forward to meeting
up again and just talking and all the other stuff friends do. ©2019
Michael Nye. www.michaelnyewriter.com
Musing on a Dreary Day
The thoughts of Amanda, Jim and others.
Part Five
If
midsummers day (the solstice) is kind of all bound up with me, then
so is the winter solstice. I'd have been six months old when I saw
my first one. I was held as a baby as the sun came up, and again as
it went down. I remember absolutely nothing, nor will little Joshie
here. I offered to take him for a walk whilst I thought things
through. I know I wanted to be alone, but the little lad talks to
me in a way that someone that actually has language can't. I look
at him and his big blue eyes look back. There's all these
expressions he has that let me know that he sort of knows exactly how
I'm feeling. Like when his mum had the baby blues a bit on the
heavy side, he somehow got that I was looking after him so that she
could get herself into the right head space. I guess he managed to
get the message to his mum that I wasn't taking him away too. Right
now he seems to be just looking at me as though he wants to know
something. I'm pretty sure it's not about his parents and, even if
I look away, he still gets my attention. I mean who'd want to look
away from such a beautiful little face anyway. What I want to tell
him is that things work out, but when I form the words in my head to
actually say anything he just looks back and sort of fires the same
back at me. He's telling me that things in my life will work out.
I mean, how can he know so much when he's only been in the world for
half a year. He has no concept of Christmas, birthday, spring or
anything much else. He can't write anything and, according to the
health visitor, he isn't even that aware that he's an individual
human being. Well Joshie, all of that's a load of old cobblers
isn't it. Yes, I know I'm from the north and we don't do rhyming
slang but it's cobblers anyway. You know far more than anybody
thinks you do. Well, apart from your mum and dad, and me of course.
We know that what's going on in that little head of yours is kind
of pretty awesome. It doesn't matter that you can't walk or feed
yourself. It doesn't matter if you pee yourself (and us) or even if
your shit stinks (which it doesn't.... Well, not too much and I'll
let you off for any bad smells anyway).
Anybody
walking past might think I was talking a load of shit into mid air as
Josh is in a baby sling under my coat. Thing is I'm not actually
speaking in words. This is all going between him and me as he
snuggles up to me. I love moments like this, you know, just
wandering along the towpath then standing on top of the bridge
looking out along the canal. I could stand here for hours today but
I know Josh is either going to pee himself, do a poo, or start
dropping rather heavy hints that he wants a feed.
©2019
Michael Nye. www.michaelnyewriter.com
Musing on a Dreary Day
The thoughts of Amanda, Jim and others.
Part Six
There
are a lot of things you can decide are your first memory, like
falling over on a path, or being greeted by a stranger. I have a
few like that, little flashes of stuff that whiz through your mind
and are gone in a split second. Instead of these fleeting glances,
what I attribute to being my very first recollection was when I was
around three years old. I just about remember having lived in
France but that’s more because of my having been told it so many
times. This one is as clear as a film playing through my mind. Of
course, like all memories, it merges with others to form a kind of
narrative that eventually made my life make sense. I remember well
being told that we were going back home, which seemed strange because
I was already at home. I don’t remember the journey, or the hotel
room when we arrived back “home.” What is burned indelibly in
my mind is the first time I saw my brother. There was an instant
connection that made it feel like a missing piece of a jigsaw had
finally been put into place. Of course that was at a time that I
would have been more than likely to try and eat the said jigsaw piece
than to actually place it correctly.
My
brother is around twenty years older than me but that didn’t
matter, the bond was there and I ran across the hotel lounge towards
him only to be caught by him when I tripped up. Here he was, my
absolute hero of all time, but that was not all. He had a lady with
him. I say lady because that was they way I would have referred to
her then,. Anyone female was either a girl or a lady in my simple
vocabulary. When she was introduced as my sister in law I decided
that whatever or whoever she was, all I knew was that she meant a lot
to my brother and therefore meant the same to me. I was then told
that I was going to be an uncle! I was just three and I remember it
as well as if it had happened half an hour ago.
Time
seemed to fly and this new brother and his wife were busy making a
new home for themselves out of a long derelict lock house. Then the
word Christmas was mentioned. The thought of spending the season in
the half finished project was suggested and that was it. They were
that impetuous so, with what encouragement a three year old could
give, the plans were made and things progressed at a crazy pace.
This was a time that changed mine along with a good few other lives
and soon I was sitting in the shabby kitchen of what was their new
home, eating some toast on Christmas eve. I knew I was in the right
place and that my father and mother were keen to make up whatever had
got between them and their first born. I also knew that I never
wanted to be far from my brother and my sister in thingy (as I called
her then, because she was far more than an ordinary “Lady”) and
that I would love the baby that would eventually arrive whether it
was a boy, a girl or a gibbon. I was where I wanted to be and the
world was all new. Every time I think of that first Christmas in
this country, I smile. I always will do.
©2019
Michael Nye. www.michaelnyewriter.com
Musing on a Dreary Day
The thoughts of Amanda, Jim and others.
Part Seven
There
are a lot of times that I can remember about my little room above the
shoe shop, my first Christmas away from the orphanage being one of
them. I'd seen decorations go up in the shops, enjoyed
conversations as I wandered about the place, and was generally quite
happy. I knew that at the orphanage there would be preparations
under way to give us poor unfortunates a good time. It usually was
quite fun, but I had turned my back on it and faced the day alone.
I can't say that I was that worried at the prospect, and was
determined not to feel nostalgic for a place that I disliked when I
lived there. With that in mind, I set off to Woolworths and bought
some of the cheap but pretty decorations, along with a small
artificial tree and fairy lights. With everything up it looked
quite festive, and, given that I would not be getting anything from
my non existent family, I bought and wrapped some perfume and other
toiletries. My next problem was getting something for my mentor and
good friend Gerald. I had decided on a bottle of good whisky, and a
box of nice cigars, but there was the issue of my age going against
me. Thankfully the owner of the shoe shop understood my problem and
took an hour out of his day to go with me to the necessary shops to
buy the items. He also trusted me to keep them in my room until I
took them across to the car lot, nicely wrapped and labelled for the
man. I wrote plenty of cards and sent them off to the people I
knew, giving a wad to Ellen for the orphanage (all of which were
signed by my newly invented alter ego Rebecca Smith.)
Gerald
was quite surprised when I turned up on the last day before the
festive break with his gift, and he accepted it with a smile, placing
it on top of his filing cabinet.
“Wouldn't
do to open it before the big day,” he smiled.
That
was it. I would go home and have a pleasant day by myself, cooking
a small version of the big dinner and lazing around. At least that
was my vision of how it would be. At about eleven in the morning,
the bell went and I set off down to the back door to find Gerald
standing there.
“This
ain't nothing funny,” he said. “You know I wouldn't don't you
lass.”
I
knew what he was getting at and, of course, trusted him far more than
he probably thought he deserved. I never knew much of the man
beyond the workplace, and suddenly realised that we'd never really
spoken much about it. I thought there would be a Mrs. Gerald, and
some minor ones.
“Got
some stuff in the car,” he smiled. “Can't 'ave you spendin'
your first Christmas of freedom all alone.”
“What
about your family?” I asked.
“Confirmed
bachelor,” he smiled back. “Now let's get this stuff in and
have a right good time of it.”
I
was intending on doing a few preparations then opening my present to
myself. Here was my employer with the gift I'd given him plus
another parcel which contained his present to me. A really pretty
radio, in a small wooden cabinet. This wasn't something cheap, or
second-hand but one of the latest ones he could find on sale and such
items then were very much a luxury. I protested that it was too
much, but he'd have none of it and shrugged off anything I said.
“What's
life without a bit of music lass,” he smiled.
He
was equally delighted with the rather good Scotch and nice cigars I'd
got him, and it was then my turn to shrug anything he said off.
“I'm
only really returning what I took,” I said meekly.
“You
returned that on the day, with interest,” he laughed. “Then I
made you clean the results up didn’t I.”
I
will always remember the shade of green I probably turned. I also
remember being told that it was a hard lesson, but one that I
wouldn’t forget. I guess he could have taken advantage then, but
he didn’t.
In
all, my first Christmas in the real world was a beautiful time and,
after dinner, a few of my friends from the orphanage, who had escaped
for a couple of hours, came to see me. When they'd spent too much
time with me for them to get back on time, Gerald whisked them away
in his car, turning up at their home telling them of how they'd
helped him out after some invented misfortune which, with his gift of
good sales patter, they of course believed. He then returned to
spend a good part of the evening with me before returning to his own
home. That was Christmas. Magical as it should have been. I sat
and stayed up far too late in my little room by the light of the
fairy lights and the warm glow of the tuning dial on my new radio
which played dance music into the night. I couldn't help looking at
the beautiful little highly polished wooden box that bore the name
“Defiant.” Gerald said he thought of me when he saw it in the
shop window and thought it was pretty apt, buying the thing on the
spot and sorting a radio licence for me as well which in itself
wasn't that cheap.
©2019
Michael Nye. www.michaelnyewriter.com
Musing on a Dreary Day
The thoughts of Amanda, Jim and others.
Part Eight
I
shouldn’t say or write this, but I sort of have to so that I remind
myself of my new years resolution. It came to me when I heard an
oldie played on Rosie’s radio. We’re sort of not allowed stuff
like that but she’s an absolute whiz ad hiding all kinds of things from them. In her dorm
there’s a kettle, radio, record player and all sorts of bits and pieces they
smuggled in which I think is pretty cool of them. They even let me
stop with them sometimes, like when someone does a runner for a day
or so. I’ll miss all of that when I go but I won’t miss all of
the other stuff that happens like calling me by a name that I don’t
like answering to, or bad mouthing my dad. I miss him more every
day and wish things hadn’t ended the way they did. I was just
taken away, and nobody, not since I was nine, has ever explained why.
I was happy and safe where I was. I was well fed, and looked
after. I hate this place though, I mean I really hate it. This
year I just upended my Christmas dinner on the table and walked out
of the hall. Sounds like a waste of food but all they serve is puke
anyway. Of course I got talked to but I just shut down on them all.
For that I was told that I couldn’t go to the New Year party
which is no bad thing because I didn’t want to go. So I made up a
dummy out of my clothes and left it in my bed then sneaked up the
back stairs to Rosie’s dorm. It was just before midnight that I
heard the record, “We gotta get out of this place.” That was
it. I knew I could and I know I will. The time will come right
and I’ll go. I’ve said it before though and said each time that
I really will but this year seems a bit different. If I don’t go
then what happens to me? I get more of the same shit and I may even
get shot full of drugs to make me more normal. I’ve heard that it
happened and the result isn’t nice at all. So, what is it that
makes this year different from the rest? It sounds daft but if I
say there’s someone here that only I ever talk to you’d think I’m
mad, and maybe I am but I have spoken to her and she’s as real as I
am. It’s not that she said anything to me on New Year either,
well, I don’t think she did, but I felt something when, as I looked
at my watch go past midnight. It was like a positive “Yes. You
can do this and you will do.” Like the watch, I have no idea
where the thought came from. It just appeared. The thought was
obviously in my head, but the watch was under my pillow on the day I
turned thirteen, wound up and ticking. There was a message for me
inside it too. Another positive one. It’s like the time is
coming, not here yet but coming fast. I hope I will know when it’s
right because I don’t want to miss the boat that’s all.
©2019
Michael Nye. www.michaelnyewriter.com
Musing on a Dreary Day
The thoughts of Amanda, Jim and others.
Part Nine
“I'd
sort of feel a bit like we were wimps normally,” Christie said,
warming her hands on the mug. “But, well it is cold, not as bad
as last year. You know my wellies sprang a leak about halfway
through. I must have caught a flint or something, but the water
came up and slowly filled the left one.”
“It
was pretty crazy,” Don laughed. “I wonder what anyone would
have thought of us if they'd seen.”
“I
couldn't imagine explaining that one to Lonnie the perv,” Christie
said, also laughing. “I mean they'd get him in to counsel us, you
could guarantee it.”
“Hmm,
now, Christie, take your time, now, could you tell me how it felt to
be forced to watch a model boat in a flooded river? I can
understand how this has traumatised you and given you this awful wood
fetish,” Don frowned.
“I'm
truly and deeply ashamed,” Christie said calmly. “I thought I
could handle it. I mean, it was just a small piece of wood, and I
thought it didn't matter. It felt good in my hand, but then before
I knew it I was turning it into a hanger for Mum and Dad's car keys.
That would have been O.K. but suddenly, when I finished, I caught my
sleeve on it!”
“I
see,” Don replied seriously. “You were hooked.”
Seeing
his face, Christie exploded into a fit of schoolgirlish giggles, and
was joined soon after by her brother.
“You
two are as nuts as the rest of us,” Ian smiled, savouring his soup.
“You'd make a good double act, you really would. Do you think
we should shift the big version of Jason's boat?” he added.
“River
is a bit on the high side,” Jim agreed. “Mand and I were
thinking of getting her down to the yard between now and New Year in
case it goes over.”
“How
about we all make a day of it then” Ian smiled. “There's
nothing forecast for tonight so we could do a Christmas run down to
the yard tomorrow.”
With
all agreed, the family group reformed the following morning to turn
Mayfly around and take her on the 3 hour run back to the boatyard.
The river was higher, and turning the little boat was harder than
normal, but the extra hands made the job easier. Soon Amanda, Jim,
Don and Christie were heading down the canal at a steady walking pace
through the winter scenery, as the little motor pattered away on the
stern of Mayfly. Ian and May had headed off to the yard in
readiness for the return journey.
“People
do miss a load sometimes,” Chris smiled, looking through the
leafless branches. “But I bet it was crap to be heaving huge
loads in this weather.
“We
always felt a bit guilty about that,” Amanda replied. “But Fly
is what we had, and we kind of just did what we did. None of the
old boaters ever saw anything wrong with that so I guess we got used
to it.” ©2019
Michael Nye. www.michaelnyewriter.com
Musing on a Dreary Day
The thoughts of Amanda, Jim and others.
Part Ten
If
you want the truth, Christmas were a bit shite this year. Not as
shite as other years and it would have been better if I’d not gone
off to extent the hand of goodwill to my folks. They extended
theirs first so I got a right shiner for my trouble. I’ve not
been living far off but I’d seen nothing of them since I left and
after that little greeting I decided to keep it that way. Working
for my room in a guest house was doing the trick though until this
person I’d spoken to a few times on the phone arrives as a
chaperone to her friend who is soft on some lad she met in the
summer. I guess that’s when everything changed and I at least
realised that I weren’t alone.
So,
this morning I wake up in the middle of a house full of people that
are all friends and the world is a different place. It’s
somewhere that people just ignore all of what we’re told are the
rules we should live by. And no, it weren’t some kind of orgy or
love in or any shite like that, it were just good company, food and
being with friends as we stood behind a pub as we counted the new
year in. More than any time in my life I knew that this were it.
I’m done with what were happening and that’s because someone had
the guts to rescue my new friend, the lass that came up as chaperone,
from the shite she was putting up with. I don’t mean she was
living in some hovel, no,, it were a dead posh house with old stables
and a big car with parents that were rich enough to afford that and
more if they wanted. So why they spent their time making her life
hell on earth I have no bloody idea at all but they still did.
Anyhow there’s this little lad that adopts the pair of us when we
land here and says that we’re both his aunties. I swore then that
if I ever have a kid I’d never lay so much as a finger on them. A
look at Masie told me she were thinking exactly the same. How does
anybody, how can anybody, raise their hand to a little scrap of a
thing that loves and wants to be loved in equal measures. There’s
no reason for it. None, and it ain’t happening to either of us
again.
So
I wake up and hear a song on the radio that says even the bad times
are good, and I know that’s the message for the rest of whatever.
I know there’s a load of stuff to do and work through but we’ll
both get there in some way shape or form and we’ll both be stronger
for it. It’s a new year, I’ve made the resolution and I’m
bloody well sticking by it. ©2019
Michael Nye. www.michaelnyewriter.com
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