The discussion always went round in circles like a serpent consuming its own tail. It was a tough problem, and becoming important that they found some solution, what with the cost of living crisis.
Continue readingThe Serpent Eats its Tail
Tag Archives: was
The wrong sort of promise
Will had always loved wood. He loved trees and sawdust and the curls of planed wood. The tools for wood working were endlessly fascinating; sharpened chisels, saws and delicate nails. Even the smells of wood were pleasurable, both timber being worked and wood rotting in country glades.
As his school reports, carefully preserved by his mother, attest Will was a student of broad abilities and his future was an open book that could fall open on a number of different pages. Will’s mother had her own set of expectations and was quietly confident that her son would attain well paid professional status in due course.
Continue readingNever Say Goodbye
Do you remember when we made that promise, Dad? In the fading light of a summer’s evening, when you sat beside my bed and closed the book you’d been reading, leaning in to kiss me and wish me sweet dreams? Always that. Never goodnight. Definitely never goodbye.
You smelled of tea and biscuits. The beginnings of a beard peppered your chin, bristling against my cheek. Your beard was dark then. Not even a whisper of grey. Nothing like the creep of white that haunts your face now. Your skin in the glow of my bedside light was bright and flushed from a day’s work, and the comforting clatter of Mum washing up floated through the floorboards. I don’t remember how old I was, but I remember the book. The Tiger Who Came to Tea.
Continue readingCaring
A bell rang.
‘It’s Linda, Mum,’ her son said. ‘With her husband, Jeff. They’re driving you to your brother’s.’
‘Linda?’
‘Hello, Aunt Violet.’ A woman at the door was kissing her.
‘She’s not been there in decades,’ her son said. ‘Good of Ronnie to deign to see her again, isn’t it?’
He was chuckling but the woman kept a straight face.
In the car the woman said, ‘It’s Uncle Ronnie’s sixtieth wedding anniversary.’
‘Anniversary? Is he married?’
‘To Betty. Remember Betty?’
Continue readingDouble Trouble
“I’ll get you Lewis! And that’s a promise.”
With his words still ringing in my ears, I hastily packed a suitcase. I just had to get away.
A new town, a fresh start, I could only hope.
I picked up a job quickly and began to settle down. My jangled nerves were slowly uncurling with each passing day.
It took him six weeks to find me.
I awoke one morning to find a note on the doormat. Things started to spiral out of control.
Continue readingSecret Santa’s Secret
Alice arrived late for the third time that week. Just my luck, she thought, as she saw the boss talking to the receptionist. She saw him glance at his watch, but to her surprise, he seemed to ignore her. She hurried on up to the office.
Dan heard the door opening and automatically looked at his watch and then towards the door. Noticing it was the new girl, a blush rose up. He quickly lowered his glance and continued his previous conversation.
The office was in pandemonium as everything was behind schedule for the Children’s Christmas Party. Alice redeemed herself by offering to stay late and help out with the colouring sheets packs.
Everything had to be right for tomorrow. It was the first year that Dan had been in charge since his Dad retired, he couldn’t let the firm down. He worked later than usual to make sure that there was nothing that could go wrong.
Alice would have been in tears if her anger hadn’t been so focussed on the Gestetner Duplicator. She swore at it as it gobbled up yet another one of the copies into its internal workings. It was all she could do to stop herself kicking the damn thing.
Continue readingStopping the Santa Invasion
After the speeches, people drifted away from the demonstration, some still wearing outfits representing the main focus of their complaint.
Having responsibly abandoned their placards, a group of five in search of food and drink settled themselves in the Hog’s Head and placed their orders.
These were veteran activists. They had witnessed mounted police moving through the crowds at the poll tax rebellions; they had collective memories of the ‘not in my name’ protests; they had stood with the miners during the long strike; two could even look back to the anti-apartheid rugby protests in 1969. Between them they had been kettled, abused, arrested and beaten.
Continue readingI Spy
Billy Thomas and gang set out their new mission – their eyes lit up – to catch a spy. Now that was exciting. Billy had twice seen the foreign man who had moved into a house on the edge of the village passing a rolled-up newspaper to a shifty little man. Once he’d seen the shifty man hand him money
A rota was set up. Huw Parry would watch in the morning as his parents went to work early. Billy would watch after school till teatime. Gwyn Griffiths would then take over, as his parents went to the club most nights and his brother let him go where he wanted. Huw Parry had an army uniform they could share to hide in the woods. Gwyn Griffiths borrowed his da’s binoculars to keep watch.
Continue readingMidnight
My mission had been to submit my story by the deadline. I was failing fast.
I had to write something. My head was stuffed with a myriad of ideas, but none of them seemed to work. I sighed as I looked at the pile of screwed up papers overflowing the waste bin.
I reread all the other submissions for what seemed like the tenth time. What did they have that mine lacked? Even my analytic powers seemed to have deserted me.
I tried some displacement activities to look for inspiration elsewhere. My e-mails and You Tube displayed the same as when I had looked before. I came up with no fresh ideas for the story.
Continue readingAn Abbreviation of Love
What struck Julian were the silvered eyebrows half-way down an oblong face. Most people’s eyebrows are a third of the way down. This displacement, together with a high hairline, left a disconcertingly blank expanse of forehead skin, broken only by a stray wisp of hair escaping diagonally from an oiled and groomed coif to gently caress the outer arch of the right brow.
They had met in Drawing Class five years previously. A common love of philately and the search for the missing, presumed stolen, “Inverted Jennies.” -so named because the stamps’ bi-planes had been printed upside-down, -had propelled an initial halting comradeship into friendship, to them sharing a flat together, then more.
Shane was ostensibly the more extrovert. A favourite entertainment for both was him regaling Julian with colourful yarns of adventures with his “alternative” friends; the “Famous Five” he called them. Sometimes, without warning, “You go out and enjoy yourself. Come back any time after 10.30pm.” Shane would say in his appeasing voice, letting Julian know he had to be out that evening and what time he was permitted to return. Shane would shower, apply aftershave, don his grey and pink checked, 3 piece suit, and complete the “look” so carefully cultivated with a fedora. Julian guessed these evening assignations were with the “Famous Five”, either singly or in various combinations. Him meeting any was out of the question. Not permitted.
Continue readingDaffodils
The university park stumbled down to the sea, imitating the crazy lurching of the terraced houses on the same giddy hill. Sam scuffed about the paths round the flower beds, vaguely aware of daffodils in bloom.
He had a sharp, stabbing pain at the side of his stomach that wouldn’t go away. He was utterly miserable. Three years he’d stayed away from the town, but as soon as he’d entered the park – following the route he and Nicola had often walked – the sense of oppression had just welled up from within him. Memories from the past pushed up a bit like bulbs in the soil.
Continue readingGalloping Johnny
My name is Stephen Sacks and I’m a complete faggot.
Oh, I know, I know, bluntness is discouraged these days and words like that reek of self-loathing but I’m not pussy footing around, tonight I aim for honesty.
I’ll tell you about a revelation I had last week which stoked the embers and relit my passion. I was at an outdoor pool party, held by my sister’s in-laws. A celebration over the fact they had stuck it out for fifty years.
So, there I was, meekly maundering by the barbecue when I became aware of somebody’s nephew, Johnny whatever, wafting by the swimming pool. And as that handsome youth, wearing nothing but tight trunks, beer in hand, talked to another Adonis, dear reader I felt the desire.
Continue readingMy Blind Mind
“Can you picture her face?” My words tumbled out of my mouth as soon as my sister picked up the phone.
“Huh? Whose face?” Evelyn replied.
“Mum’s,” I said.
At sixty years old, I had just learned that most people possessed a superpower. They could visualise objects, places, events and people in their “mind’s eye”. I could not. Suddenly the darkness of my mind seemed blinding. What’s more, I felt the loss of my mother more acutely than ever.
Our mother had died six months earlier, after a long battle with cancer. Evelyn and I had nursed her until the end. Now there was a gaping hole in my life. It was Larry, my husband, who had suggested giving meditation a go.
Continue readingSaudade
I first met Jose Luis Vercas on the concrete apron jutting out into the mouth of the Targus where the splendour of the Manueline Port of Lisboa ends and a wide expanse of river divides the city from Alcântara. He was short, but well-muscled and possessed of that curiously Portuguese combination of a mane of swept-back, black and wavy hair; and a forehead so high it begged to be labelled, “domed”. He said he too was a teacher, but offered no hint of subject or at what level he taught and, to be frank, my interest did not extend that far.
“Do you have it?” I asked in my formal Portuguese. He smiled and nodded – a slight movement of his head, causing a lock of stray hair to struggle free. Patting his messenger bag, he said in accent-free English, “It’s here.”
Continue readingThe Letter
Jane almost skipped out of the clinic. She had been told by her consultant that she was free of cancer. Striding down the road, she passed the travel agents with its tempting array of holidays. Telling herself that she could do this on her own, she went into the shop and bought a train ticket to Athens and a ferry ticket to the incredibly small island of Halki.
A month before the all-clear, Jane received a letter from Stella who now lived on Halkii. Jane had opened the letter with shaking hands and felt slightly sick. Stella and Jane were the best of friends in the early 80s but in 1987 they had a row to end all rows, on a cliff top of all places! Jane told Stella she did not want to see her and Stella cut all contact.
Continue readingFrom Resolven I Am
I had to move my bag to make room for him. It wasn’t as if the bus was even full. It being January 5th, I gave him a sardonic, “Happy New Year!”
“You a Swansea boy?”
“Pontypool,” I said.
“The Pontypool Front Row! Remember them?”
“Bobby Windsor, Charlie Faulkner, Graham Price,” I said.
“More of a Neath boy, me. From Resolven I am … you’d think I’d be one for making New Year’s resolutions, wouldn’t you? It’s in the name.”
I let the chug of the bus answer.
“The number of times I have given up fags and booze … Eventually, the penny drops, don’t it. No point making yourself miserable.”
I could smell the alcohol on his breath, just past mid-day.
Continue readingA Resolution to be true to yourself
Orlando’s Café was a dreary downmarket affair, hardly Mr Barings’ idea of a meeting spot.
Pimply youths lazed idly behind the counter, a toothless black woman drowned in a million shopping bags and a blonde floozy hunched over her cup of coffee whilst her boy, one irritating snot nosed tyke waddled from aisle to aisle thumping anything with his fists.
Worst, a lovey-dovey couple, shared a Sunday with a single spoon, breaking off from time to time for a quick peck on the lips or an ear splittingly giggle which made Barings long for a shotgun.
Continue readingRESOLUTIONS
In their 23 years of cohabitation, Mel and Ron had reached achieved an efficient level of consensus. Holiday, theatre and cinema choices had all passed without rancour. Co-operation in the upbringing of son Ben was effective (although Ben was unlikely to return to the family home once his college days had expired).
They had reached deep agreement over the marking of high days and holidays. Birthdays were briefly acknowledged, Christmas was not much different from other days in the way of festive food. New Year resolutions were beneath contempt – that is, until quite recently.
Continue readingFIT
Look at yourself man! Paunch soft enough for a bouncy castle, out of breath, and you smell like an outbreak of leprosy. New year’s resolutions: get fit, have a healthier lifestyle, use deodorants.
That very morning Atkinson jogged on the prom. After a hundred yards he thought cardiac arrest was imminent. The next day the exercise bike his girlfriend, Jackie, had bought him for Christmas was set up in the spare room of the flat. He pedalled furiously for thirty seconds, then coughed and spluttered so much he had to lay down.
Continue readingChristmas in Wales
By late September, the cement in the foundations of the Christmas plans was setting nicely and the scaffolding was under construction for our two families. Shared festive traditions had evolved through their years of friendship. Each purchased a tree bauble for the other during their holidays and each had amassed a collection of these items which came to include German figures capable of appearing to puff smoke, and smoked glass globes with holiday place names. Food was always exquisite and achieved courtesy of the Marks and Spencer pre order and pick up service.
Continue reading