I turned the key and the engine roared as it started, filling my nostrils with the smell of fuel and my body with pure adrenaline. It calmed to a gentle hum. I smiled to myself and stroked the black brief case beside me. I looked around, still feeling paranoid that someone would show up and burst my victorious bubble. All I could see around me in the small Greek fishing village, were a couple of weather worn boats tied to the wooden jetty, with the crystal water lapping gently at their sides.
I suddenly heard voices and turned sharply to see a couple of elderly Greek local men greeting each other outside a bar. They sat, and I watched the waitress greet them and take their order, smiling and laughing jovially as they swapped banter. I turned back and looked out to sea. I sighed and took in the beautiful scenery before me. Wonderful green hills rolling in front of me on the opposite island. The clear blue sea swirling and curling with the gentle current. I closed my eyes and took in a deep breath of the pure air, feeling the warmth of the sun on my skin. I just couldn't stop smiling to myself.
I pulled down my glasses to cover my eyes from the glare of the sun. Versace, no less. Who would have believed it? Me. Wearing Versace glasses. I looked down at my feet and shuffled them to take a good look. Gucci ! I threw back my head with laughter now at the thought. If anyone had seen me they would have thought I was going out of my mind, but, it was quite the opposite. My mind couldn't have been clearer or sharper.
I untied my boat from the jetty and returned to the controls. I pulled back the throttle and the boat pulled away leaving a swirl of sea spray in it's midst where it once stood serenely. I reached the open sea quickly and as the sea spray from the breaking waves hit my face refreshingly, I thought back to how I got myself here...
"WILSON!", I heard my boss scream for the fourth time that morning. How I hated that bitch calling me by my last name. I stood myself up from my crouching position at the filing cabinet. My knees ached and my heart felt heavy. The only thing keeping me going was the small light burning inside me that would soon ignite into a full fire of hope and determination for the future.
I opened the door of her office, the cold handle feeling appropriate for the ice maiden that it contained inside. There she was sitting behind her desk. A big marble and walnut effort covered in neat piles of papers, all facing the same way, and an expensive computer. The scowl on her face didn't shock me in the least. It was permanently fixed there. A red long finger nail pointed at me as she gave me her orders. She could never just tell me what she wanted in one sentence, she had to include a tirade of abuse and diatribe about other people and departments. Of course, she could do no wrong. My mind wandered and I watched her red slashed mouth moving, her tongue flicking in and out of her yellow teeth as she spat orders to me. I should have been listening but...
"WILSON! ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME? DID YOU GET THAT?"
"Oh...I'm so...sorry," I stumbled, "I've just got a bit of a headache." I rubbed my forehead for dramatic affect.
She pulled open her top drawer and threw a blister pack of pills across the desk at me. I put my hand on them and slid them towards me, picking them up and putting them into my pocket.
"I CAN'T HAVE YOU SLACKING WILSON, I NEED TO RUN A TIGHT SHIP HERE, WE HAVE TARGETS TO MEET AND I WON'T HAVE YOU LETTING ME DOWN." she spat in my direction.
"No...no ma'am."
She ran through my orders, threw some papers at me and I was dismissed. I walked out of the room and looked over at Anna, her PA, at her desk. She briefly looked at me and then put her head down quickly to carry on with her work. She was a beautiful girl, but you could see she had the weight of the ice maiden on her shoulders. Her intercom buzzed..."ANNA!"
So...see I had to do what I had to do. I couldn't be treated that way anymore. It was so easy really. Staying late after everyone had gone. Hacking into the computer system was simple. I know my most taxing job was turning on a kettle and filing redundant papers, but that just gave me a great cover. No-one would have guessed the genius that I was planning in my head.
I watched.
I watched and waited.
So that is what made me determined to get where I am now. I slowed the engine of the boat and turned it off. I dropped the anchor. I surveyed my view. Beautiful! Sea all around me. Fresh air all around me and the only sound was the swooshing of the water swaying the boat gently.
I sat down on the edge of the boat and looked lovingly at the briefcase. I ran my finger tips again across it's leather. I could smell it's warmth from the sun. I ran both hands to the locks and clicked them open, ready to see the fruits of my labour. I closed my eyes and gently opened it.
When I opened my eyes tears of joy pooled into them. My reward. My reward for all of the crap I had put up with from that spiteful bitch. Two Million pounds...all mine. How I would have loved to have seen her face when she opened her account and seen it wiped out. Well, I say wiped out, I left her fifty pounds and a bit of change to keep her going for the week. Kind don't you think?
I heard a chink and saw the door of the cabin open. Two Champagne glasses and a bottle of Bollinger lead out first, and then there she was...
My beautiful Anna.
Monday 30 June 2008
Nature or Nurture?
Simon was a man who wondered too much. There was usually something buzzing through his mind that didn’t really matter to anyone but himself, be it the name of the tune that someone was humming on the bus or what those little plastic tips on shoelaces were called (aglets, he had recently discovered). Usually these ponderings disappeared after a few hours, occasionally popping back, but never really bothering him.
There was, however, one thing that persistently bothered him.
Who was his father?
Now, it’s only fair at this point to explain that he knew who his dad was. He was the man that he and his older brother Rob saw every weekend when he was a boy, the man that took him for McDonald’s and let him have a bit of his cider. That was his dad, a happy man who had all the time in the world for Simon, and had never even raised his hand to him, let alone beaten him. His dad was a good man, but was he Simon’s father?
Simon’s parents divorced when he was 5, and his mum had remarried a few years later. Soon after came Simon’s little brother, Jake. From that point onwards, things were very normal. Simon saw his step dad as another dad, and often lamented the fact that Jake seemed to get preferential treatment. It wasn’t surprising though, he supposed, because Jake was the biological son, and golden boy, but it still irked him a little.
A couple of years ago, while his step dad was away on business for a few weeks, Simon had a night in with his mum and a DVD. They had a couple of bottles of wine and ended up chatting until the small hours about this, that and the other. It was on this night that he discovered the reason his mum had left his dad. It was fairly obvious he supposed, but it turns out that she had had an affair with his soon-to-be step dad. He was a little shocked, but it was over 20 years ago, and one can’t be too upset about these things.
What did bother him though, was his similarity to his younger half brother. Not so much now, as they’d grown to look individual from each other, but when they were small. The pictures of them were very similar indeed. Simon bore very little resemblance to Rob, and had a completely different temperament- however, he was as fiery as Jake. When he put two and two together and considered more of the details that his mum had told him, Simon worked out that the affair would have been going on before he was conceived.
The thing is, he was just like his dad. He was overweight and loud, he was outgoing and everyone’s friend. So he bore more resemblance to his dad than his step dad. This alone should have been enough to dispel his fears, but he was a born ponderer. Was it nurture over nature?
Well, whatever the answer, he would never ask the question. What difference would it make?
Sunday 29 June 2008
The Bride
“What’s your name?”
She slurs at me, eyes trying to focus on what looks to be some point behind me. Most of her energy is spent trying to balance on the high bar stool. She holds onto the seat with one hand between her legs like a rodeo star while a bottle of some sickly coloured alcoholic drink is gripped in the other.
She is dressed in a white ball gown, with an L plate stapled to it, flashing devils horns in her glittery blonde hair and a balloon tied to her wrist that says “good luck” on it.
“mines Helen an’ I’m getting married, nex’ week this is me hen party … the last chance to cop off before I settle down”
She breaks into a fit of giggles before adding
“I don’ mean, I don’ mean it, I love Kevin he’s a lovely bloke drives a Lexus, getting’ married nex’ week”
She lurches forward and threatens to fall off the stool and I take a step back in readiness to see her fall flat on her face but sadly she manages to save herself at the last minute.
“What you say your name is?” She asks again confused this time more than anything as if she has forgotten it.
“I didn’t” I reply with a smile that I hope says and I won’t either.
“I’m getting married nex’ week” She grins the pupils of her ice blue eyes are totally different sizes; I doubt she can see much at all.
What I think happens next is she tries to lean forward, all seductive like and goes to run one finger down the front of my shirt. What actually happens is she leans forward, slips and grabs my shirt ripping it as she falls off the stool.
The barman looks at me then the prone Helen and simply says
“Get that out of here”
I look around in hope of spying the rest of her party but nobody looks like they want to lay claim to this bride to be.
Begrudgingly I help her up and walk her towards the door thinking how did this happen? I had only gone out for a quiet drink and was planning on having a pint or two before grabbing a pizza and heading home.
And now here I am propping up a total stranger, who now by the way is announcing that she is going to be sick.
I park her onto a bench and tell her to take deep breathes, in through the nose and out through the mouth.
She looks up at me, smiles and says
“You’re a really nice blo-“
She doesn’t get to finish her sentence as she starts to heave, learning my lesson from the bar stool dive, I take a few steps out of the way.
As much as it repulses me, I watch as she slumps over and what looks to be gallons of piss coloured liquid spills out of her mouth, down the front of her dress and splashes onto the pavement.
When she is finally empty, she wipes her mouth, spits a glob of stringy phlegm bile hybrid into the impressive lake of spew at her feet, blinks a few times as if to clear her head, smiles and says.
“Want me to suck you off?”
She slurs at me, eyes trying to focus on what looks to be some point behind me. Most of her energy is spent trying to balance on the high bar stool. She holds onto the seat with one hand between her legs like a rodeo star while a bottle of some sickly coloured alcoholic drink is gripped in the other.
She is dressed in a white ball gown, with an L plate stapled to it, flashing devils horns in her glittery blonde hair and a balloon tied to her wrist that says “good luck” on it.
“mines Helen an’ I’m getting married, nex’ week this is me hen party … the last chance to cop off before I settle down”
She breaks into a fit of giggles before adding
“I don’ mean, I don’ mean it, I love Kevin he’s a lovely bloke drives a Lexus, getting’ married nex’ week”
She lurches forward and threatens to fall off the stool and I take a step back in readiness to see her fall flat on her face but sadly she manages to save herself at the last minute.
“What you say your name is?” She asks again confused this time more than anything as if she has forgotten it.
“I didn’t” I reply with a smile that I hope says and I won’t either.
“I’m getting married nex’ week” She grins the pupils of her ice blue eyes are totally different sizes; I doubt she can see much at all.
What I think happens next is she tries to lean forward, all seductive like and goes to run one finger down the front of my shirt. What actually happens is she leans forward, slips and grabs my shirt ripping it as she falls off the stool.
The barman looks at me then the prone Helen and simply says
“Get that out of here”
I look around in hope of spying the rest of her party but nobody looks like they want to lay claim to this bride to be.
Begrudgingly I help her up and walk her towards the door thinking how did this happen? I had only gone out for a quiet drink and was planning on having a pint or two before grabbing a pizza and heading home.
And now here I am propping up a total stranger, who now by the way is announcing that she is going to be sick.
I park her onto a bench and tell her to take deep breathes, in through the nose and out through the mouth.
She looks up at me, smiles and says
“You’re a really nice blo-“
She doesn’t get to finish her sentence as she starts to heave, learning my lesson from the bar stool dive, I take a few steps out of the way.
As much as it repulses me, I watch as she slumps over and what looks to be gallons of piss coloured liquid spills out of her mouth, down the front of her dress and splashes onto the pavement.
When she is finally empty, she wipes her mouth, spits a glob of stringy phlegm bile hybrid into the impressive lake of spew at her feet, blinks a few times as if to clear her head, smiles and says.
“Want me to suck you off?”
The Greatest Fight Ever?
That was the greatest fight ever...
My eyes flickered open...well I say flickered, it was more that one flickered and the other eyelid stayed shut, bruised and swollen with the socket feeling like it had sand lining it. I could feel beads of sweat on my forehead and trickling down the back of my neck. The air was oppressive and there was a sickly smell in the air.
Gently I turned my head to look at the clock. A throb like a drum thudded through my neck and up the base of my skull. The red illuminated numbers read 4.10. I'd only been in bed for about 2 hours and my head thudding told me that my short slumber had been a fretful one.
I turned my head to look towards the window. My blind was still open and the indigo blue of the sky with it's orange horizon told me that sun would be rising soon.
That was the greatest fight ever...
I swallowed. My throat felt like I was swallowing broken glass and it made me wince. I gave the roof of my mouth a gentle sweep with my tongue and it felt like sandpaper. Another swallow gave me an urge for some cold water...I still hadn't dared to move so I didn't know what pain the rest of my body had in store for me.
I parted my lips and a needle of pain shot through the corner of my mouth. It felt crusted, and a lick with my tongue suggested it was dried blood. I slowly closed my eye that was willing to respond and felt my body gently sigh and deflate into my bed.
I raised my hand to my face to investigate. As my fingertips touched my closed eye I could feel the heat and swelling and most of all I could feel sticky wetness. I pull my fingers away and looked at their tips. Blood. It wasn't too hard to work out that it was cut and probably needed attention.
That was the greatest fight ever...
My right leg was tucked under my left leg and as I tried to slide it out pain shot through my whole body. It was then I realised I still had my boots on, albeit the laces untied. I lifted my head again and looked down to see I was still dressed. I let out a loud scream that was unrecognisable as I tried to slide my leg out again. Okay, so this was going to be harder than I hoped. A lot harder. I took a deep breath, but as I did so, pain that cancelled out all of the other pain I was feeling, seared through the right side of my chest. I shot my arm to my side and gripped my ribcage.
As I lay there my mind replayed last nights events.
Those cocky football fans had everything that was coming to them.
No-one messes with me and mine.
Well, they looked at me with a sneer on their faces.
No-one looks at me like that.
Then they said what they said.
No-one talks to me like that.
Then he squared up to me.
No-one squares up to me like that.
That was the greatest fight ever...
I figured the only way I was going to get up was to roll onto my side and allow the pain to fuel my determination. Easier said than done. One movement? I wish I could. I attempted a deep breath again, held it and used all the energy I could muster up to sit forward. I heard a loud scream pierce my ears, and the pure horror of it shocked me. My mind flickered back to when I was cosied up in my parents home when I was a kid. I'd lay at night curled up in my duvet with my curtains parted and the moonlight streaming through, a cool spring breeze blowing across my face. I'd hear the new fox cubs calling out to their parent in the fields behind the house...
That was the greatest fight ever...
It was 2 hours later that I came to. I was shivering and I could feel the morning sun shining on my cheek. The heat felt good. The surface felt cold and hard under my side. It was then that I realised I was on the floor. I must have passed out. Well this might be a blessing, I thought to myself. I don't know how I managed it, but I rolled onto all fours and managed to get to a sitting position on the bed. I gripped my ribs that seemed to be giving me the most pain. I looked down at my boots. I could see dirt on them. Annoying! I rubbed the heal of my left boot on my right and the crust sprinkled onto the floor. Red. Red sprinkles. Blood.
I looked down at my shirt, ripped on the chest and arm. That was my best shirt! He really deserved what he got.
That was the greatest fight ever...
After what seemed like hours of deliberation I pushed myself up from the bed. My head spun and a large thud reverberated around my skull. I shuffled my way to the kitchen. I turned on the radio.
"....police say they are still looking for a group of men after the death of a man following a street fight in the town last night. Police are searching through CCTV. They are looking for 3 men aged 25-30 believed to be local, following the football match yesterday. The man who died was brutally attacked and was from the visiting side. They are urging anyone to come forward that may have been witness to this fatal attack."
I made a derisory snort. I searched through the cupboards and found some tablets. I popped two out... I shuffled over to the sink and poured a glass of cold water all the while feeling like knives were being thrown at me from all sides. I threw the tablets into my mouth and they felt like rocks as they hit the back of my throat. I lifted the glass to my swollen lips and poured in the water. The cold swirled through my mouth and down my throat taking the tablets with it.
That was the greatest fight ever...
Suddenly I felt bile shoot past my raw throat into my mouth and I bent over the sink as my tablets and water returned. The pain that seared once again through my body was immense. As I looked down I saw drops of blood bounce into the sink and merge with the water. I put my hand to my eye. The cut must have reopened.
"...police say arrests are imminent."
Suddenly I heard a loud banging at the door and my name being shouted. Everything seemed to slow down from that moment. I saw chips of wood, presumably from my door, flying through the air and there, stood in front of me, were 4 police officers.
Suddenly, I no longer felt the pain.
I felt numb.
Was it the greatest fight.....ever?
My eyes flickered open...well I say flickered, it was more that one flickered and the other eyelid stayed shut, bruised and swollen with the socket feeling like it had sand lining it. I could feel beads of sweat on my forehead and trickling down the back of my neck. The air was oppressive and there was a sickly smell in the air.
Gently I turned my head to look at the clock. A throb like a drum thudded through my neck and up the base of my skull. The red illuminated numbers read 4.10. I'd only been in bed for about 2 hours and my head thudding told me that my short slumber had been a fretful one.
I turned my head to look towards the window. My blind was still open and the indigo blue of the sky with it's orange horizon told me that sun would be rising soon.
That was the greatest fight ever...
I swallowed. My throat felt like I was swallowing broken glass and it made me wince. I gave the roof of my mouth a gentle sweep with my tongue and it felt like sandpaper. Another swallow gave me an urge for some cold water...I still hadn't dared to move so I didn't know what pain the rest of my body had in store for me.
I parted my lips and a needle of pain shot through the corner of my mouth. It felt crusted, and a lick with my tongue suggested it was dried blood. I slowly closed my eye that was willing to respond and felt my body gently sigh and deflate into my bed.
I raised my hand to my face to investigate. As my fingertips touched my closed eye I could feel the heat and swelling and most of all I could feel sticky wetness. I pull my fingers away and looked at their tips. Blood. It wasn't too hard to work out that it was cut and probably needed attention.
That was the greatest fight ever...
My right leg was tucked under my left leg and as I tried to slide it out pain shot through my whole body. It was then I realised I still had my boots on, albeit the laces untied. I lifted my head again and looked down to see I was still dressed. I let out a loud scream that was unrecognisable as I tried to slide my leg out again. Okay, so this was going to be harder than I hoped. A lot harder. I took a deep breath, but as I did so, pain that cancelled out all of the other pain I was feeling, seared through the right side of my chest. I shot my arm to my side and gripped my ribcage.
As I lay there my mind replayed last nights events.
Those cocky football fans had everything that was coming to them.
No-one messes with me and mine.
Well, they looked at me with a sneer on their faces.
No-one looks at me like that.
Then they said what they said.
No-one talks to me like that.
Then he squared up to me.
No-one squares up to me like that.
That was the greatest fight ever...
I figured the only way I was going to get up was to roll onto my side and allow the pain to fuel my determination. Easier said than done. One movement? I wish I could. I attempted a deep breath again, held it and used all the energy I could muster up to sit forward. I heard a loud scream pierce my ears, and the pure horror of it shocked me. My mind flickered back to when I was cosied up in my parents home when I was a kid. I'd lay at night curled up in my duvet with my curtains parted and the moonlight streaming through, a cool spring breeze blowing across my face. I'd hear the new fox cubs calling out to their parent in the fields behind the house...
That was the greatest fight ever...
It was 2 hours later that I came to. I was shivering and I could feel the morning sun shining on my cheek. The heat felt good. The surface felt cold and hard under my side. It was then that I realised I was on the floor. I must have passed out. Well this might be a blessing, I thought to myself. I don't know how I managed it, but I rolled onto all fours and managed to get to a sitting position on the bed. I gripped my ribs that seemed to be giving me the most pain. I looked down at my boots. I could see dirt on them. Annoying! I rubbed the heal of my left boot on my right and the crust sprinkled onto the floor. Red. Red sprinkles. Blood.
I looked down at my shirt, ripped on the chest and arm. That was my best shirt! He really deserved what he got.
That was the greatest fight ever...
After what seemed like hours of deliberation I pushed myself up from the bed. My head spun and a large thud reverberated around my skull. I shuffled my way to the kitchen. I turned on the radio.
"....police say they are still looking for a group of men after the death of a man following a street fight in the town last night. Police are searching through CCTV. They are looking for 3 men aged 25-30 believed to be local, following the football match yesterday. The man who died was brutally attacked and was from the visiting side. They are urging anyone to come forward that may have been witness to this fatal attack."
I made a derisory snort. I searched through the cupboards and found some tablets. I popped two out... I shuffled over to the sink and poured a glass of cold water all the while feeling like knives were being thrown at me from all sides. I threw the tablets into my mouth and they felt like rocks as they hit the back of my throat. I lifted the glass to my swollen lips and poured in the water. The cold swirled through my mouth and down my throat taking the tablets with it.
That was the greatest fight ever...
Suddenly I felt bile shoot past my raw throat into my mouth and I bent over the sink as my tablets and water returned. The pain that seared once again through my body was immense. As I looked down I saw drops of blood bounce into the sink and merge with the water. I put my hand to my eye. The cut must have reopened.
"...police say arrests are imminent."
Suddenly I heard a loud banging at the door and my name being shouted. Everything seemed to slow down from that moment. I saw chips of wood, presumably from my door, flying through the air and there, stood in front of me, were 4 police officers.
Suddenly, I no longer felt the pain.
I felt numb.
Was it the greatest fight.....ever?
Saturday 28 June 2008
Evolution ?
They came from the seas.
They crawled slowly, gasping for breath in the unfamiliar atmosphere, lungs compressed by bodies designed to be supported by water, unfamiliar with the full effects of gravity.
And they died.
Generation upon generation, they died, but they kept on coming. Some made it farther than the others. Those with stronger ribcages, larger muscles, more capacious lungs were able to return to the sea again.
And they bred.
Slowly, generation by generation, over the millenia, their sojourns onto land became longer, more determined, more intrusive. Bodies designed for life in the water mutated, changed, adapted to the new environment. Limbs twisted, became able to bear weight. Lungs took oxygen from the air. Muscles lengthened, strengthened, changed focus.
And they bred.
Until the day came when the need to return to the waters was no longer there. They were no longer dependent on the sea to live, they could roam the lands at will, albeit slowly, sedately with their unfamiliar and ungainly bodies.
And they encountered others. Others that had made the journey from sea to land, who had adapted more readily and developed more quickly. They observed the small communities from afar, watching the interactions, listening to the sounds, the vocalisations of these strange beings...
"Hey, Chuck, there's another one. Quick, shoot it. Get the gun! Don't let it get away, there's good eating on those big ones."
They crawled slowly, gasping for breath in the unfamiliar atmosphere, lungs compressed by bodies designed to be supported by water, unfamiliar with the full effects of gravity.
And they died.
Generation upon generation, they died, but they kept on coming. Some made it farther than the others. Those with stronger ribcages, larger muscles, more capacious lungs were able to return to the sea again.
And they bred.
Slowly, generation by generation, over the millenia, their sojourns onto land became longer, more determined, more intrusive. Bodies designed for life in the water mutated, changed, adapted to the new environment. Limbs twisted, became able to bear weight. Lungs took oxygen from the air. Muscles lengthened, strengthened, changed focus.
And they bred.
Until the day came when the need to return to the waters was no longer there. They were no longer dependent on the sea to live, they could roam the lands at will, albeit slowly, sedately with their unfamiliar and ungainly bodies.
And they encountered others. Others that had made the journey from sea to land, who had adapted more readily and developed more quickly. They observed the small communities from afar, watching the interactions, listening to the sounds, the vocalisations of these strange beings...
"Hey, Chuck, there's another one. Quick, shoot it. Get the gun! Don't let it get away, there's good eating on those big ones."
Friday 27 June 2008
Encouragement is a dirty word in my family
I think the main problems in my life has been the facts that I have never been encouraged to do anything and when I have started something I have never been pushed to keep it up and always bailed out as soon as its got a bit tough.
Nobody ever said
“Stick with it son, you can do this”
Now when I say I have never been pushed, I mean my parents.
I’m not going to bitch and moan about how hard my childhood was because it wasn’t. Whilst I wasn’t encouraged I was never discouraged either.
Hence the fires.
So I have bumbled along in my own little world leaving a trail of half finished projects and dreams ranging from a graphic novel to a model village.
Some don’t even start before I quit.
I was so disillusioned as a kid I went through a phase of thinking that I was some cruel experiment by my folks.
“We’ll just let this one be and see what happens”
So when little sis came along they were all like.
“We better push this one; the last one is a write off”
And that’s why she went to a better school, had the music lessons I always wanted and asked for, gained her music scholarship. It all carried on, the praise and basic affection, all the way up to her leaving sixth form and they were looking at what University she should go to, to do her Music teacher training.
This was back at the time when they were all toying between Music Teacher or maybe Music Therapist. While I had discovered the joys of cheap cider, weed and was embarking on my own brand of education.
Then it happened she said the magic words.
“What if I stay and work in the Nursery for a year?”
This was a brilliant idea! She could get some real life working experience under her belt!
Of course Eight years later she is still working there and still getting paid rubbish money to look after kids she only ever has bad things to say about.
I can’t remember the last time she even picked up an instrument or mentioned going to university, she did briefly talk about going to college at nights to get some qualification in Nursery nursing but that is also long passed.
And that’s the beautiful thing even after all the pushing, coaxing and prodding she has amounted to nothing either.
At least I always promised my end results from the word go.
Now I may sound bitter and it’s probably because deep down I am.
But let me tell you something I know now that I could achieve something if I wanted to.
And who knows maybe some day I will.
Nobody ever said
“Stick with it son, you can do this”
Now when I say I have never been pushed, I mean my parents.
I’m not going to bitch and moan about how hard my childhood was because it wasn’t. Whilst I wasn’t encouraged I was never discouraged either.
Hence the fires.
So I have bumbled along in my own little world leaving a trail of half finished projects and dreams ranging from a graphic novel to a model village.
Some don’t even start before I quit.
I was so disillusioned as a kid I went through a phase of thinking that I was some cruel experiment by my folks.
“We’ll just let this one be and see what happens”
So when little sis came along they were all like.
“We better push this one; the last one is a write off”
And that’s why she went to a better school, had the music lessons I always wanted and asked for, gained her music scholarship. It all carried on, the praise and basic affection, all the way up to her leaving sixth form and they were looking at what University she should go to, to do her Music teacher training.
This was back at the time when they were all toying between Music Teacher or maybe Music Therapist. While I had discovered the joys of cheap cider, weed and was embarking on my own brand of education.
Then it happened she said the magic words.
“What if I stay and work in the Nursery for a year?”
This was a brilliant idea! She could get some real life working experience under her belt!
Of course Eight years later she is still working there and still getting paid rubbish money to look after kids she only ever has bad things to say about.
I can’t remember the last time she even picked up an instrument or mentioned going to university, she did briefly talk about going to college at nights to get some qualification in Nursery nursing but that is also long passed.
And that’s the beautiful thing even after all the pushing, coaxing and prodding she has amounted to nothing either.
At least I always promised my end results from the word go.
Now I may sound bitter and it’s probably because deep down I am.
But let me tell you something I know now that I could achieve something if I wanted to.
And who knows maybe some day I will.
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