16.... I’m on my way!
(a short story from the mind of 
'Sleep That Burns')

      From the moment that the spark ignites the flame that becomes you and me, from that moment on our lives are all about 'firsts', every second, every minute in every hour, everything is new to us, from the very insignificant to the monumental, this is where our journey begins our first journey, the one that is the making of us all!
      Our first chapters, those blurred parts of our early years, very few of us can remember the baby phase, we are told by others, our parents and our siblings, we are given graphic stories of how we were and what we did and all we can do is shrug our shoulders and raise an eyebrow, we were there and yet we were not, in body maybe but our developing minds were miles away, even then, we were starting to focus on the bigger picture!
    Eat, sleep, poop and pee, start to crawl then begin to sit up, trying to stand then fall back into a poop and pee filled nappy only to start all over. These are all firsts, these are all new, with so much going on, so much fresh information to process, is it any wonder that a baby yells, never mind about being hungry, never mind about needing to be changed, teething would be a minor distraction, I think we all suffered major headaches with all of the firsts that we were facing on a daily basis, our own learning curves had well and truly, begun.
    Eventually we soon became miniature people, and with all of the basics now part of our armoury within a few years, we would experience the first traumatic incident in our lives, the one all kids go through, leaving our mothers at the door of our first classroom and being led into our first day at school by our first teacher!
    My first day was as I recall, a fun day, new friends, new everything really, I remember sand, I remember water, biscuits wrapped in greaseproof paper, being read stories,  we seemed to live on the floor cross legged, peeing my pants because the concept of putting your hand up to go to the toilet was so new to me, should I, shouldn't I, when is a good time to ask, what about now...oh... too late,
    "MISS, I need to go to the toilet please"
      "Oh dear Martin, looks like you've already been!"

     All part of the deal I suppose and that feeling of being sat around in wet pants, soon made me shoot that hand in the air as soon as my bladder sent signals to my brain! It was during those formative days, structure came into play, lining up in an orderly fashion, girls were always first, break times meant milk and biscuits and dinner times were obviously, some sort of meat with mashed potato and something that was cabbage (I think!) and dessert had custard on it, yellow, brown or pink or the dreaded semolina, the stuff had the consistency of wallpaper paste and I hated it so much,  I don’t think I have touched the stuff since but in those ‘black and white days’ you ate it or you went hungry until you got home. It took me a long time to understand why you had to put your hand up to get attention or to ask a question, it seemed that I was always sat cross legged on the floor, perhaps back then it was easier for the teacher to 'corral' the class and appear to be more intimidating standing in the middle of us, looking down on the kids! Learning to keep quiet, a very hard thing for me to do then and still is I suppose; I never grew up to be a shy and retiring adult.
      During the first few weeks of school, bonds of friendship began to form and I came into contact with Dave! He was, even then, about a foot taller than me and I soon realised that having a 'big' mate was always going to be to my advantage. We were paired up together and we sat side by side in the classroom, a bit of an odd duo because he was so much bigger than me, we were both gifted with a mischievous sense of humour and we were a perfect match but… I could do something he couldn't, tie my shoe laces! It was perhaps one of the first acts of kindness that I showed, I taught him to do his laces up, and from that moment on a lifelong friendship started, and we still refer to that meeting to this day. The most important lesson that I learnt as every young boy knows, if you have a big friend, you are less likely to be picked on and that is very true I can tell you!
    Within a couple of years it was soon on to the juniors, the 'big school', it was just across the field but it was a huge jump, I had heard all about it and now…it was my turn!
This would be the dawn of so many firsts. The first time 'proper' learning started, no more playing in the sand pit, no more measuring out water, no more sitting still with your head resting in your folded arms after dinner and definitely no climbing through the windows of Wendy Houses! New lessons and new teachers, new uniform and new rules, new friends and of course, new enemies!!
    Using ink, from an inkwell with a pen with a shiny nib, using blotting paper, copying from a blackboard, using joined up writing!!  Seems so normal and natural now but back then, for the first time you had to be neat, for the first time the pen was mightier than the...pencil, this was a big deal in 1966, this was my first traumatic experience for Christ's sake!
    It was these junior years that I had my first taste of responsibility of any kind. From giving out books to more important roles, in my case, becoming a milk monitor! This meant I could skip assembly earlier than everyone after morning prayers obviously,( c'mon, back then I still said good morning to the man with the white beard who lived in the clouds!) then I would deliver a crate of milk to each classroom, bottles of milk, bottles made of glass none of that carton rubbish, the 'nanny state' was still decades away. For the first time I had a taste (no pun intended) of helping in the community, at least helping out your school friends, because milk meant break time and that meant, FUN! I just remember break times being so noisy, why talk to each other when you yell at each other.

        Perhaps even when I was between the ages of 7 and 11 although I was unaware of the development of anything other than playground friendships, the seeds had already been ‘subliminally’ sown. I suppose the 'gang', my gang, was getting bigger, but still at this stage, no girls. Girls were always there but avoided, girls were always clean, girls always smelled nice, girls always seemed to have white socks, perhaps even then and because I noticed these things at all, I realised the beauty, the future importance of the female and how they would eventually become something that made me change from a snotty nosed kid to deodorised adolescent.

            It was late ’69 or early ‘70, Jackie appeared on my radar and as a 10 year old, to me she was a vision, a high speed vision, and a blur! Let me explain, she was one of, if not the fastest runner in the school and on Sports Day I suppose I fell in love with her and more to the point word was out that she liked me or rather she liked the colour of my t-shirt!  She had seen me on the school playing field in said shirt and liked it and when word got around, I was quick to tell my mates,
      "She can get her own; she 'ain't having mine"! Of course, I was deeply flattered, for the first time a girl had made a nice comment, did not matter a fig that it was about my t-shirt, I was the boy inside that shirt. She was or should I say, she became my friend, not my girlfriend, not at that age anyway, life was far too big and there was far too much going on but it was good to have a 'friend' other than a mate. It did not matter that we did not really talk much; we may have got by with a 'quick' smile, one that always made me blush and never in front of my mates! So unknown to me at the time, this was my first foray into any kind of 'one on one' relationship with a girl! Alas, when the time came, we left the junior school and went to separate schools that were miles away and so for the first few weeks of the new term, I suffered my first broken heart and even to this day, I still sometimes think of her, she probably can't even remember me but your first 'romance', however young you are and however brief it is, like your first car, you never forget it!
      The next stop in my journey of first's was senior school and what a blitzkrieg of emotions I was about to encounter. For the first time in my life, long trousers were worn and this was a big deal for me, Christ this was a monumental part of my life!  Things became so intense for an 11 year old, so many things happening all at once, the climb from junior school to seniors was for me, very exciting, lessons became longer my subjects became harder  at that stage in my development I was still far more of a prankster than an academic in waiting!  Learning Latin, even at that age, to me seemed a pointless exercise, who spoke Latin for fucks sake, was there such a country as Latinia!  Having to do three different sciences, Chemistry was a hoot, we were allowed to burn things, and dissolve things in weird solutions, biology was fun because we could cut up eyeballs and dissect rats and frogs and best of all, chase girls around the lab scaring the hell out of them with rats entrails, but physics, I just did not get it, too much theory for my liking, laws for this and that, far too much for me to take in. Then there was English Language and English Literature! I hated the writings of Shakey Bill then and I hate it now, I never quite ‘got’ poetry then, that would take many, many years for me to come to terms with, so I suppose  I did learn from it but certainly not the way the School would have liked that's for sure! In the next couple of years this part of my education, obviously the 'academic' stuff I had to do but all was about to change, I soon became educated in a far more interesting subject...girls!

        During those formative years, I experienced my first form of discipline that was to be administered by people other than my parents, teachers!  I was dapped for the first time, I was caned for the first time, I was made to write lines for the first time, worst of all, I was given detention! Pain you could get through, it was almost a badge of honour, even though it may at the time, have hurt like hell, they were never tears in my eyes oh no, they were always because a gnat or some grit had found its way in there, my first lie to my peers! Detention was just so cruel but at the time, the bragging rights were priceless, as long as my parents never found out the real reasons!  I was in so much shit as a kid, nothing serious, just stupid things and as far as they were concerned, I was in every single After School Club going, football, cricket, running, I was a sporting genius for Christ’s sake!!

               There is a time in every boy's life when he becomes a victim or rather his body is the victim of an all-out assault and then the mind gets confused, welcome to  puberty, I have heard all about you, I knew you were on your way, in fact I've been waiting for you! Was I ready, is anybody! Of course not, so welcome one of your first feelings of overwhelming, all consuming misery!
            Girls as we all know, are far more advanced and us boys stay as junior Neanderthals, in the pecking order of what we all know as evolution, we remain paddling around in the gene pool while the girls, well, they start to blossom! A boy's exposure to puberty is nature’s way of having a good laugh at our expenses, the joys of your voice breaking, one day up next day down, maybe half and half at the same time for what seems like ages. Then all of a sudden from nowhere comes this almost demonic speaking voice bursting from a cherub's mouth, most disconcerting for all those that know you! When the 'transformation' happens for the first time you change from this sweet young thing to a hormone charged 'being'! For the first time in your life everything but everything has a sexual connotation added to it. You think you know it all, you have read the book on sex, well, a dirty magazine in the playground to be exact and as all boys think at the time, all women look like the beauties within those stuck together pages! You have done it all, you are well versed, we all think we are studs, truth be told, we are not even little rivet's and your sex education at that point is, to say the least, limited. God bless those massed playground huddles that were a weekly ritual when somebody had pinched his old man's copy of Playboy and it was a scramble to climb upon your mates shoulders to get a glimpse of those ladies. As we all know, in reality you only are an expert with yourself, the left hand tonight and the right tomorrow, what's that saying....
"Wasn't it fun in the bath tonight"! Fuck me, I had never been so clean, I willingly took bath's, much to my mother’s amazement and much to my father’s amusement, he knew of course, he may have been my dad but once upon a time, he was a boy too , let's be honest, nothing is new now is it, especially when the sap begins to rise.
      So many firsts happen to you with the arrival of puberty, there is your first shave with the old man's best razor, your first tentative dabs of his aftershave  that stings like hell but most of all with all of this facial grooming, how the hell do I navigate my way through the maze of spots that for the first time have exploded all over my face!! This is the Bain of any teenager’s life but I was in good company, we ALL had spots, they went with the territory. With this new found 'thing', the being I had become, a teenager, along came the youth club and with that came the school disco and with these two significant parts of growing up came...posing and girls! Last month you could not stand them, what they did, what they looked like, they were in their corner and you were in yours but all was about to change, for the very first time, they were about to become the focus of every boy's attention. A quick kiss and a grope in the cloakroom and in my mind I was a bona fide sex God! A kiss became a snog, a snog soon included tongues for the first time, and this was something that alarmed me when it first happened. She was if I remember correctly, a lovely girl, normally a quiet girl but she must have been some sort of alien, I remember gagging as she proceeded to suck my face off, what is this all about, she really scared me, Christ she scared me but you couldn't tell your mates, that was a definite no no, I was the boy and she was the girl and they were waiting for a blow by blow account of my liaison, so what could I do, fucking obvious, I lied to them! With my change in attitude towards girls came a lot of other changes, I soon had my first can of beer, a pack of four shared between probably twenty five boy's, it tasted pretty horrible but you all claimed to love it and of course it wasn't the first time you had all done it, yeah right!  I remember us all hanging around outside the off license, just waiting for the moment and then pushing the tallest of the group through the shop doorway, leaving him stranded in the shop and doing the most natural thing....run like fuck!! Later when he emerged from the shop with the beer, we would all brazenly walk down the street to the local park and then we would all sit down in a circle (something's you never stop doing!) on the grass and stare at the four cans in the middle. Tall boy would get first swig, well that was only fair after all, then the cans would be passed around, we would all take a glug, pretend that we loved it, pretend you had taken a big mouthful and then share out the Polo Mints to disguise any trace of it on your breath, and you would always get some joker who would make out that he was drunk, what a prat, what was his name... probably me. Of course with your first can of beer soon came your first cigarette, again it would be shared with your mates, all for one and one for all I suppose, if one was going to be in the shit, best that we all were, by the time it had been passed around a couple of times it was usually dripping with spit, thinking back, you would readily drag on a soggy cigarette but if a bottle or a can of anything was passed around, you would use anything to hand usually a jumper, to wipe away any trace of the previous drinkers spit!   

       These ‘shared’ experiences were the first time of showing any kind of loyalty towards others, mates at that time were more like brothers, brothers in arms, that must sound so corny, cheesy beyond belief but back in the day, we were, experiences that to me at that time, were so important, so real and so true and I for one make no apologies!
    Up until the age of 14 or so, music was something I was aware of, it was mostly confined to the background(no pun intended) but I was yet to start my love of music in general but all that was about to change! Like all kids of my generation, we all watched Top Of The Pops on a Thursday night but most of my musical education was on the radio, the early 70's was the best for 'Pop', music at that stage of my development, I had yet to discover the album, my focus was purely aimed at the 45 rpm single, serious music that lasted more than three minutes was still to make an appearance in my record collection, all was about to change because for the first time, my horizons were to be broadened!

                One Saturday I was sat in Dave's front room waiting for him to emerge from his pit and for us to head off into town for a day of staring at girls, his older brother, home for the summer from University, came into the room, 
    "How you doing Lars" (my nickname given to me by Dave and his family, a cartoon character back in the day, 'Filmation's Journey To The Centre Of The Earth', could have been worse, could have been 'Shaggy from Scooby Doo', now he WAS a dumb arse! Anyway Dave’s brother walked across the lounge, all crushed velvet loon pants and a Che Guevara T-shirt, this was a student and this was SO cool to me back then, he walked to the stereo with a carrier bag under his arm,
    "Lars, I think you will like this, forget about all of that poppy, glittery crap you young lads listen to, listen up this is some musical education for you"! With a sigh and a 'tut' of displeasure, I reluctantly prepared to be educated. Almost as soon as the needle hit the groove, I immediately sat up and took notice, for this was my first introduction to 'serious ' music, this was the first time that my ears were attacked by the dulcet tones of Led Zeppelin this was my first 'epiphany', this was my first day of a lifelong love of ROCK! I listened to that album, both sides without uttering a single word, this alone was one of the first times in my life, I was speechless, lost for words, this was made all the more important to me because I knew that this was the sort of music that would piss off my parents, the pop was bad enough to them, this 'new' type of music, I just knew they would hate it, and to me, as a teenager, this was positively priceless and especially because none of my mates had moved up to this level of sonic attack!! 
        Looking back on how life was then and I am often asked by my own kids,
      "How did you get through the day then, you must have been bored out of your mind!" Well, I don't remember much of my life back then that bored me, quite the opposite, life was good for me and I think I can speak for most of my peers, life was not so intense, not so full on, not in your face, unlike it is for teenagers today. They have more of 'everything' compared to my generation, they know more than we did at their age, they are certainly more sexually aware and indeed 'active' than we ever were, until recently, I thought  Chlamydia was a Soviet Naval Base in the Black Sea somewhere!
    It was during those halcyon days that I became aware of clothes; they say clothes maketh the man, well clothes 'sort of' made me! My first pair of Levi's followed by my 'old faithful', my beloved Levi jacket atop my first cheese cloth shirt and on my feet were suede 'desert boots', I loved those babies and wore them forever, even when they got wet!  Soon I would be wearing my first pair of 'Chuck Taylor's', in cream naturally!! Christ I looked good then, well, according to the reflection staring back at me from the mirror on my bedroom wall, what was not to like! 
   
    Like most kids, your first job of any kind was a paper round. I can still remember my first wage packet, standing in line with all of the other paper boys and eventually being presented with a brown envelope full of loose change and your first ever wage slip. I remember beaming from ear to ear, Christ, I was getting money for what was basically old rope. I remember blowing the lot on sweets and music magazines and what was one of my last ever DC or Marvel Comics, I was the 'super hero' now,  I was now a 'wage earner', no longer a kid! No sooner had I left the shop and it was all gone, a weekly wage was something I still had to come to terms with, spend it all on payday, that was it for a week, this took me a couple of weeks to come to terms with this concept.! With the paper round I fast learnt who were good tippers and who were the tight Bastards! The third letterbox on my round was a flat and it belonged to a man with an artificial leg, he lived on his own and was apparently the victim of some industrial accident and on Saturday's he would dress in a shirt and tie and would then proceed to get pissed all day and in the summer months he would sit in his garden and sing from his deck chair. He was probably the first drunk I saw on a regular basis, he was probably one of the first people that I ever met who obviously drowned his sorrows with beer and more to the point; he was the first person outside of my family who gave me money! He would stop his singing and call me over to him, I handed him his paper which he would always throw across his doorway,
    "Come here boy, something for you"
With one hand he would grasp mine and with the other he would thrust a £1 note into it.
      "You're a good lad, wind and rain, your always here, this is for you", fucking hell,  this was more than a week’s money and at first I tried to  refuse and  and hand it back but he would have nothing of it, in fact he became a little angry in the way that only a drunk does,
  "What do you mean, you take it, and don't you dare question me, you do me a favor so take it now, I am not going to argue with you so you take it, then you can  Fuck off you little Bastard, go and just you remember”

He glared at me through blood shot eyes and beer breath and he told me to remember, it was his money and he could do whatever he wanted with it. Now looking back on this incident and indeed this man, I can relate to him more than I like to admit! like him, there are times when I do get bitter and twisted, I do get angry, that's well documented, no doubt about that, perhaps mine is caused by something a little less tangible than losing a leg, nonetheless something was cruelly taken as far as I am concerned, never to be seen again, perhaps my first experience of how any kind of loss, although at the time I was blissfully unaware of what was waiting around the corner for me! If that man was still alive now, I'd like to have a drink with him, we would now be on a level playing field, he would not scare me, I don't recall him scaring me then and I think even he would agree, we have definitely become some kind of kindred spirits both with axes to grind! He just found some sort of solace poured from a bottle and perhaps I have still to find some inner peace whatever, whenever, it is out there somewhere and that is most definitely still very much a work in progress!
      After the paper round, I was very lucky to get a job at a Motel as a washer upper! Now from a paperboy to a washer upper in a Motel, this presented so many firsts to me, a wage packet with notes in it for a start! For the first time in my life, at age sixteen I was rich, I was loaded, 
almost overnight I was able to buy two 45's and an album!! During my time at the Motel I soon witnessed my first experience of the 'worker/manager' relationship! Up to that point in my life I had always been taught that if an older person, usually your parents obviously or your teachers told you what when and how, you did as you were told, no question you just did it. However now for the first time I saw people arguing with boss's, people doing the opposite to what they had been asked, people going out of their way to be awkward, so if they could do it, so could I, or so I thought! I did not take into account that these were seasoned workers, with years of practice, not stroppy part timers like me and especially a kid. The first time I answered back, I was given such a bollocking, threatened with the sack and to shape up or ship out, duly noted I can tell you! After about six months or so I soon realised that although I was doing the work for spending money, I was still at school waiting to sit my final exams and this was weekend work, it was a means to an end, and as I was the first of the ‘gang’ to get a job other than the obligatory paper round, I did miss being with them and I soon started to hate being away from them!
      My last term at school was, on reflection some of the best times of my life! Being a mouthy fucker, I loved getting involved in debates, learning how to discuss things with others, for the first time in my life talking sensibly and with meaning and purpose, something I hope I am still able to do as an adult. With those last few months of education came exams, for the first time in my life I knew that either I knuckled down and did my best or I bombed out!  Well, for the first time in my life I was soon to become aware that there are things in life that you have to do on your own and if you fail, it is nobody's fault but your own. I failed, I bombed, I could have and I should have passed my exams but I suppose ultimately I was a dreamer and soon realized for the first time failure is not a nice friend to have hanging around you! 


To be continued.......

Top of Form Bottom of Form

                                       

  SLEEP THAT BURNS!

                                    ********************

Just Who Is The Misfit On The Train! (me or....them?)

Misfits on a train! (Yet more ramblings)

       The message came over the Station Tannoy,
    "The train arriving on platform two for Chippenham, Bath and Bristol Temple meads Stations will be leaving at 8-05",
That's ok then, I have only been waiting for forty five fucking minutes, I suppose I can wait a little longer!  At last, I'm on, it always makes me laugh, clambering on board and you always see the sign painted on the platform, 'Mind The Gap', on your own with no suitcase, no problem, but when your loaded up and your case feels like it is full of cement, your ticket is in your mouth and your spare hand is grabbing anything it can to keep you upright, now that's a different story! 

       Finally I’m aboard and now walking down the carriage having stowed my suitcase in the luggage rack, I can at least stay upright.
       It seems unusually  bereft of passengers for early evening, that's good, I can spread out across the seats and maybe get some shut eye, I am starting to feel knackered so that will be great, I could set the alarm on my phone, don't want to miss my stop now do I!  I have often wondered why do Train carriages always seem to smell the same, a bit like the smell inside a vacuum cleaner, stale rather than foul, a bit grubby rather than totally  filthy, I suppose when you think about it, in an age of change it's nice to know something's will always stay the same.

 We seem to be taking an age to get going then the shrill blast from the guy on the platform's whistle, I bet he loves that, makes him feel important I suppose, we start to jerk and the train begins to move out of the Station at last. After fifteen minutes or so, we are out of the town limits and we have reached cruising speed and the rhythmic movement of the carriage and the added noise coming from this iron and steel box becomes almost hypnotic. I can feel my body start to move in perfect time and it has become almost calming, I can feel my eyelids getting heavy but it's too early, I don't want to sleep yet, maybe later but not yet!  I know, in times such as these what do you do, start playing with your phone, yeah, that's what God invented the Smart phone for, train journeys... shit no signal and I've only got 50% battery and if I keep on playing around with it that will soon go, back to the drawing board!  By now the carriage has only got five passengers plus myself, dotted about, nobody is close by; I can't even talk to anyone without leaving my seat. I know, I shall do a bit of people watching, discreetly of course, that should make the trip a bit more bearable.

       There is a guy on the left of me about two seats up and  facing to the rear of the train which means he is towards me, brave man or perhaps he does not suffer motion sickness like I do, I have to see where I am going not where I've been. He is listening to music on his phone, white plugs jammed in your ears, always a bit of a giveaway, he's smiling, and his eyes are closed and...Oh Christ, he is singing!  Not only is he singing, he has got all the facial expressions, or should that be contortions, fuck me, he looks like he is in pain but what is he listening to, it is loud that’s for sure, it's buzzing but all I am getting are fly's in a jar, hang on, the chorus is obviously kicking in and he is starting to give it all he has got, totally oblivious to all in the carriage, he's in his own 'Caesar's Palace', holy crap, it's... Celine Dion!  He is rocking out to Celine Dion, oh my God, kill me now. Oh well someone has to and it does take all sorts I suppose but his mannerisms were more Guns 'N' Roses than Celine Dion, come to think about it, they have had a residency in 'Vegas too!

         
      My eyes wonder around the carriage and I see another man, looks like an office worker, maybe a bank manager, he has a certain 'way' about him, not a smug look but he looks like a guy who has climbed the ladder and is successful in what he does! His choice of reading material is not much help as he takes a neatly folded copy of The Telegraph from out of his briefcase and proceeds to spread it out across his table, he gets a pen from his jacket pocket, there are a few lines of ink on his shirt where he has missed his pocket before, he appears to not care a jot, in fact I don't reckon he even knows, he just turns a few pages and starts to finish off his crossword. He has one of the most annoying habits known to man, he presses down at lightning speed the top of his Parker, click,click,clickety click, clickety click, Christ that is so fucking annoying, never mind about 'water boarding', pen clicking that is what they should use at Guantanamo Bay, two minutes of that and you would grass on your own mother! He's probably a shrink and that is his form of release having been listening to other people’s problems all day!

   
      Now she is a very attractive lady, she looks kind of lonely, not exactly sad or anything, just lonely! She is tapping away on her laptop, looking over at a pile of paperwork one minute, then bashing away on the keypad the next, then her phone starts to vibrate and dance across the table. It must be a woman thing, all in a virtually seamless movement, without stopping her typing; she grabs the phone, in a split second looks at the call, stops it ringing and just throws it back down onto the table! What the fuck, that could have been important, how did she know, perhaps it's her boyfriend or maybe her old man, perhaps she's a lesbian, whatever she is, whoever she is she is now looking straight at me, oh shit, awkward moment,  I'm not staring in a pervy way honest, I’m not,  just passing the time but she does not know that, how do I make it look normal,  I smile, why not, no law against that, she looks straight at me and gives me one of those 'can I help you' looks, one of those where the eyes say it all,  the sort that tells you basically to piss off, I quickly look away but I am soon sneaking a glance back, she's giggling to herself, is that a victory for women giggle or does she find me attractive, I look back and she stares back at me and then she looks back at her laptop and proceeds to ...flick me the bird!  Well it's obvious, she must be a lesbian, she must be, it's obvious...right?

      With the gentle motion that the carriage brings to me, I begin to yawn and mould myself into the seat; it's still too early for my body to shut down and sleep so I look around a bit more. I can hear him first before he comes into view and then there is that smell drifting through the carriage, the smell that tells me that we have a 'mega snacker' in our midst! Sure enough, there he is, right by the doors to the next carriage,  the one who shall be known as 'pig boy'. He is armed and ready, not one but two pies, hence  the smell, this is a guy who looks in the hot cabinet rotisserie  in the kiosk, can't decide what filling to have, so he has two different ones, this is a guy who knows a pie when he sees one! Two pies is not enough for this bloater oh no, he has a packet of crisps, jumbo size naturally, and is that a Mars Bar lurking in the wings?  I lean a bit further out of my chair to get a better look, yes… it's a Mars Bar and it's a...King Size, this guy is going balls out! These gastronomic delights are then washed down with; of course it's the obligatory can of Diet Coke. In between crunching and chomping followed by slurping, he takes timeout to wipe his pie hole on his sleeve and flick the pages of his creased and smeared copy of 'On-Line Gamer', his reading material of choice. Wait a minute is this guy the real deal, can't think what but there is something missing...I know he has not yet belched!  Has he peaked yet , is there more still to come from this giant of gluttony, it's as if he has taken on the role of one of the characters in one of the games in the magazine. He is now picking his teeth; he ogles over the remains of the chicken, beef and chocolate mash-up he has prized from his mouth and...Back in it goes, well Waste not, want not. Another slug from the can, a rummage in his bag and wait a minute, a scratch of his greasy head, up go the legs, he is making himself comfortable, readying himself and......yes, there it is, the mother of all burps comes up from the depths of his vast gut, he is totally oblivious to anyone in the carriage, he looks like he could not give a rats arse as he spreads himself across the seats, suitably watered and fed.

       Letting out a huge sigh, more from relief at being able to at last rest her shopped out body, the harassed, worn out and thoroughly pissed off day tripper!  She's been up to town all day and although a day of shopping in London was, at first a great idea, she is obviously so glad to be going home. Loaded to capacity with all manner of designer bags, of course these include the obligatory Harrods carrier bag that is probably containing a packet of biscuits bearing the stores famous logo, but at least she was there! She looks dazed and confused, bothered and bewildered but she knows she has made it and she is now on her way home, as far as she is concerned, the day went well. She probably spent more than she wanted too, on things that she will only wear once and the dark corners of her wardrobe are as we speak, making space for all of these tossed aside garments.  As she puts the bags beside her, she is fumbling her way through what appear to be the receipts for her shopping haul of today, she looks like she is adding them up in her head, she stops and with eyes wide open and an expression that screams HOW MUCH!!!  She soon gives up the receipt tally and you can see her eyes are starting to droop and suddenly, the whites of her eyes begin to make an appearance, then, as if by magic, her head goes and she has fallen asleep!

         Well that certainly killed a few minutes, I think I will have that sleep, I shall fold my arms and grip hold of my phone, which is on silent, but the vibrations should wake me up…hopefully!

A 'Sleep That Burns' production (never to be taken as gospel, just another thought)

A Hardy Character!

          It was on a recent visit to the home of one of the greats of the literary world, not to my taste but great none the less, a few things made me stand up and pay attention!

       Renowned for his writings of British life as it was back then, Thomas Hardy wrote stories that were very much evocative of the day, however there were a few things about the guy that I reckon are little known! He was a man who seemed to be unable to make up his mind, he had three rooms within this rambling old house that over a period of years, he would turn into his studies, this in itself, beggars the question, how the hell did he manage to write the classic novels that he did? Was he fickle, did he suffer from a form of O.C.D well before some  psychologist had even named it...before it was even thought to be anything other than some 'after dinner' parlor game, who knows but I have my own theory as to what he was really up to!  I reckon that this man was one of the forerunners to the steam punk genre that was to come to such prominence some years later. In one of these rooms that became his 'study' at various times, which is now listed as his second wife's bedroom, of course, nothing beats creeping across the landing for an intimate liaison don't you think! Anyway, I digress, but there in this very 'unromantic', bay window is this:-

              Maybe she liked to sew, maybe they liked to sew together, maybe she could run up a nice pair of curtains whilst he was a dab hand at turning up his trousers, or just maybe this was a source of ideas for old Tom, perhaps he used this as a form of inspiration for the stories that he was yet to publish! What brings me to this conclusion you may ask, well, just nestling on an old very ornate desk just  outside the bedroom, is this wonderful piece of Victoriana:-

       Perhaps, just maybe, Mr Hardy would receive an idea, just from staring at the machine, maybe touching it, turning the wheel, absorbing the sounds that were created by doing these apparently most 'basic' of things! Just imagine him in a leather Top hat and a pair of the most ornate, sepia tinted goggles to which he perhaps maintained were the two possessions that would help him to escape from his, outwardly, staid, head of a Victorian household,  a pillar of sobriety, but in reality, he craved to be a loose cannon, perhaps he longed for the shackles of the British stiff upper lip to be released from holding him back! Lets be honest for a moment, if one of his literary peers, Jules Verne, who some might say is the originator of this genre, a man who created wonderful characters and worlds of wonder and amazement, way way ahead of everyday thought and even imagination, then why couldn't he?

        It would be so cool if this man, the epitome  of the romantic novelist,  and so very English, was in fact covertly hammering out trashy, Pulp fiction short stories, purely for his own pleasure. Maybe he could rattle them out at will and somewhere within this Victorian piece of real estate are hidden away some manuscripts, under floorboards or stitched inside drawing room curtains,  just waiting to be found and published, who knows, just a thought.
    Alas, the restraints of the type of writing that he made his name from, seemed to always win the day. It would be really cool to think that old Tom was in reality, a bit of a dude, even if only within the confines of one of his three rooms that became his study.  However, It would be so nice to think that the guy had a wicked sense of humour and whilst deliberating on the title for one of his greatest pieces of work,  he was sat in this most private of places at the end of a long passage way, working things out with a pencil, inspiration would hit,  call it a 'flash in the pan' if you will, and after the anguish and turmoil that comes with thinking of a good title, he named it 'Tess Of The T'urdbervilles' was his first choice for a title!

     I reckon that this would have ge'ed up the starched Victorian Society of the 1890's, after all, it was censored at the time for being a bit too 'under the counter' so perhaps he should have really given the literary censors something to get their starched breeches in a twist about! Just a thought, maybe a wicked one but....you never know!

A day with SLEEP THAT BURNS!

Maybe...it was never going to be?

               It had been a shitty day, work had been a relentless, a seemingly never ending pain in the arse, the phone had been going non stop, my colleagues and clients were worse than normal!  Not their fault, just me I suppose, I had to get out and when the time came for close of play for this particular day, I was gone, in a flash, desk tidied, computer off, just like vapor, I was gone. I had decided to walk home through the park, it was a nice day, the sun was cracking the flags so the bus can go and do one, the walk would clear my head anyway. I was never a 'stop to smell the roses' type of guy, never had the time I suppose but today seemed different and after a while, I actively hunted down a bench to have a sit down and just, kick back and relax I suppose, not that I felt tired, I just wanted to sit a while. So, I found a bench, sat down and just...I don't know, just watched the world go by, nothing and nobody in particular, just the fact that I wanted to do fuck all for a while!  What seemed like an endless stream of joggers passed me, they came from the left, the right, from everywhere, the buzz coming from  their MP3's made me snigger to myself, all designer trainers and headbands with the 'right' name on them, I felt sorry for some of them, all red in the face and leaking profusely, definitely looked like they were really enjoying themselves, not.

          After sitting and chilling for a while, you know, just doing a bit of people watching, which in itself is a bit of an art form these days, I know I'm not a pervert, but to look for a moment too long, and people start to look at you, looking at them and the pointing and mumbling soon starts and before you know it, you're labelled a 'perve'! With all that said and done, I just sat there enjoying this self imposed wind down, my breathing had become a gentle in and out and I had started to relax so much, I hadn't even noticed her arrive and take up position at the other end of the bench.           When someone sits so close to you and without warning, you can feel a bit awkward at first, possibly a bit pissed off even, "of all the benches" etc etc but on this occasion, I think I was so relaxed, I didn't care either way, knock yourself out, it 'ain't my bench!  

    The lady sharing the bench intrigued me, I had no clue on what she looked like, I knew what she smelt like, that sounds incredibly perverse of me but she smelt nice to me, a guy, the name of her perfume escapes me now, Christ I'm a guy and guy's only 'pretend' to know these things, a guy does not know the names and smells of perfumes, some guy's do admittedly but not the guy's I know! The sights and sounds of the park just rolled on by and it was turning out to be one of those lazy, hazy days that happen all too rarely, so when they do, you have just got to go with it, embrace it, because in a heartbeat, these day's, these moments, these all too rare times of our 'full on' lives, just go, in a second...gone.

I did not look at the lady by my side on the bench, I don't think I was embarrassed, it just seemed unnecessary at this part of the day, well, my day at least, I remember feeling calm, rested and as pompous as it may sound, for the first time all day, at peace with myself, today is on it's way out, tomorrow is another day, thank you... it's been a blast. 

    I started to lower my gaze and move my head slightly to the left, in a way that was to say the least, unsubtle, all this in a vain attempt to catch a glimpse of the guest on the end of the bench. This must have made me look like I was afflicted with something, so this move was quickly and as discreetly as I could, shelved.  Christ what a fool I must have looked, so a quick reshuffle and a clearing of the throat was in order!  What harm is there in speaking, I don't have to turn and look, I could just make a random remark about the weather followed by some gesture out in front of me, yes that's ok, no harm in that and it won't look quite so weird.

"Don't you just love this time of the day, I do, just the warmth of the breeze and the red sky, like that over there!" No answer, shit... what do I do now, I know she is still there, I can hear a paper, she is reading, right. I am going to turn and look at her and talk to her, no harm in that, and this is what I did! There she was, this lady, this nice smelling lady, face ...behind today's news, what did she look like, who did she look like?  My mind went into overdrive, all I had to go on were a pair of dainty, sandal clad feet some faded denim covered legs and a white linen blouse, this was enough to work on for now.  Was she my age, who knew, was she  younger, was she older, damned if I knew, just like a voice on the phone you hear, your mind paints a picture for you, they always look like you want them to look, then again, it's always best that it stay's that way, wishing and hoping, nobody likes to have their dreams shattered, now do they.

The curiosity was getting the better of me but what could I do, she must be coming to the end of that paper by now, the light is beginning to fade, she will just have to fold it up and...talk to me, well why wouldn't she, no harm in just having a chat.  No sign of her finishing it just yet, I gaze at my feet and kick the dust on the ground, then she shakes the paper, she is starting to turn over, no, she's just folded it, is she doing the crossword, maybe she's doing that fucking Sudoku, well that's it, I'm crap at that, so that is one thing we haven't got in common straight away. 

This is stupid, I'm a grown man, a nice bloke, I'm not a weirdo, if I'm too old, or too young, no law about passing the time of day, well, there wasn't yesterday to my knowledge. At that moment, I heard the paper being folded and placed on the bench, this is it, here I go... but what shall I say, how do I break this icy barrier that seems to be between us! I will be as normal and natural as possible, if she tells me to fuck off, then so be it but here I go...

With that, I turn and as casually as I can, I utter...

"Isn't it nice this time of...!

          She's gone, nowhere to be seen, just gone, I stand and look around, where is she, who is she, who was she?!  I fall back down on the bench, laughing out loud...

"You stupid old Sod, there's no fool like an old fool".

Well, she was there, I know she was there, the paper, it's still there, maybe she left her number on it, well they do in the movies, no number, no writing and no Sudoku, well that alone is some sort of cold comfort I suppose, I just hate Sudoku anyway! As I stand up to leave, I stretch out my arms, reach down to pick up my ruck sack...just for a minute I am sure I can still smell her perfume, she was here, is she still here?  I look around again, smile to myself, " Oh well, c'est la vie, it was a nice thought, let's call that perfume 'Summer Breeze', yeah I like that, 'Summer Breeze'.

SLEEP THAT BURNS

(Just what goes on inside the mind of Doc Martin?)

The Sudden Stop Always Appears To Be...At The Bottom!
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(a.k.a.... My Wife scares me!)

               It is taking for what seems like...forever, turning this way then that, face down then face up, arms inside the covers... or perhaps outside but still no joy!  I have heard that if you tense your body then relax it , sometimes that helps, keep doing this for a few minutes and you will soon drop off into a deep sleep!  What a crock of bullshit, that does not work, anyway, I want to sleep not workout for Christ  sake, the boredom that doing that brings on should do the trick but no, back to the drawing board.  I keep my eyes closed in the vain hope that by keeping any form of light out, I will just drift off but to no avail.  I keep my eyes closed for what seems like hours and then...I must have just...gone, dropped off, at last I am asleep now....or am I! 
         This feeling is strange, weird even, it just does not feel right, am I asleep or am I just lying there with my eyes closed, resting, not the same as sleeping is it!  Then, from nowhere I seem to be able to feel a breeze against my face, gentle at first, almost pleasant, then the breeze becomes more like a wind and soon I'm shivering and goosebumps start to rise all over my body, this is not right, if I'm dreaming then this feels too real, too high definition for my liking, got to get out of here, got to wake up... It feels... just wrong somehow! 

        I am aware or It feels like I am,  out of my bed and not even in my room, I can't feel the floor beneath my feet so I must be...floating, so I'm thinking, am I still in bed?....I've got to be, fucking hell, now It feels that I am turning over, I don't like this feeling, turning upside down, I really do not like this feeling, let's be honest, we all like to feel in control and I am definately not in control,  God I feel sick, oh fuck, I'm turning upside down and starting to turn, I'm now twisting and it is so painful.  Fuck that hurts, Christ my back and what's the deal with my arms, they are stretching upwards, so are my legs! The feeling of speed, the whistling past my ears .... am I falling, it feels like I am, got to open my eyes, but I'm too scared but I must but I can't they are too tightly closed, Christ what is going on! What the hell is that, it appears to be coming from above me, there, over there beyond the noise of the rush, I can't see fuck all so I am assuming it's coming from there above me, up there, is that laughing I can hear, is that screaming, what is that, who is that, is that... my wife, is it?, What is she doing in my dream, who let her into my dream for fuck sake, Christ she is in my head, my inner sanctum, can I not dream alone anymore, Jesus H fucking Christ!!
                                    The falling seems to be getting faster, the whistling getting louder and that voice, that cackle is getting nearer and louder until it is right by my ear, is that her, it is you know!  With gritted teeth and with gargantuan effort, I force my eyelids open, my vision is blurred from the speed, I start blinking crazily  and soon realize that I am looking skywards but plummeting downwards and there she is, my wife, smiling at me, by my side!  She appears to be looking at photos, then shaking her head and throwing each picture away, then another and another, never does she change her expression, all she does is...sigh and shrug her shoulders and keep on...smiling at me. Then her expression changes, she starts to gaze lovingly into my eyes, then she smiles at me again, then she points down and then her smile is gone!  I look down only to see the ground hurtling towards me, I look back to her, she lovingly waves to me, blows me a kiss...and she is gone!

    I brace myself, this is it, all of the good things followed by all of the bad things start to  filter through my mind, Christ was I that bad, was I that good even!  I then peer over my shoulder as the ground is almost upon me, oh well, if this is it, if this is to be how it ends, how I end, alone and with a splat, then so be it, fuck 'em all, I know I am a good person...mostly, so goodbye it is, see you around, perhaps I shall now be able to sleep, to relax, just get this thing over with will you!  

                Then, with a bang and a jolt....I'm awake, in my bed,  sweating like a pig and ....laughing, embarrassed laughter, then again, any laugh is better than no laugh I suppose, especially on the trip I had just been on!  I know I am not alone in the bed, she was with me when I put the light out, so she must still be there, so nervously I turn to see my wife lying there and in the dimly lit room, she rolls over and say's 

"Christ you were restless last night, you are going to bed far too late"!

"I'm sorry, must have had a bad dream"

"As long as you were dreaming about me

and close the bloody window, the wind was whistling all night!
"Oh yes, I say, I  dreamt about you last night and you were looking at some photos, who were you looking at!"
"Photos!  What photos, what are you on about"?
"You threw me out of something...you were looking at photos and you were laughing....what, don't look at me like that, it was you, well it certainly looked like you and she sounded like you and you were laughing, at me for Christ's sake!  
Oh never mind!"

Further Adventures from the Mind of Doc Martin 

  

SLEEP THAT BURNS

*********************

                                      The Eyes of the Raven.

                     Not to be mistaken for a Crow or a Rook, the Raven is somewhat more of a 'majestic' bird, some would say Satanic even Demonic, although similar of course, perhaps even from the same family, or so the books might say but this bird stands out from the rest.  While the Crow and the Rook come from almost a pastoral background, the scourge of many a farmer and of many country folk and the legend they have created over the generations, they have many a tale to tell of the battles that have been going on for what seems like...forever but the Raven is different! 
                  This is a bird, some might even refer to it as a creature, a feathered beast even, that has dark mysticism surrounding it, from it's jet black plumage, it's perfectly upright posture, the flapping of those huge wings to the grey of it's beak but that is not all! The feature that is perfect in all of it's primeval glory, are the eyes, so perfect in detail and yet...there is no detail, just two of the most heart stopping, beady eyes, eyes that are as black as night, as dark and impenetrable as pools of ink and whose only form of movement is the lightning blink of those grey eye-lids. 
                 Some say that Ravens contain the spirits of the dead, whose bodies have gone to... wherever, who knows but leaving their souls remaining to keep a watchful eye on the living.  Do they look after us or do they disturb us, it is a job to tell, unlike most birds, the Raven is rarely scared by an approaching man and it will almost invite you to stare into those black eyes of theirs, looking for what, what is it that is in there, is it the reflection of those who are doing the looking, or the souls of the departed ones, looking back!  Are they smiling, are they crying or are they screaming, do these souls want to be in there, have they been taken or are they willing guests, destined to stay with the Ravens until the Raven  blinks no more! 
                     A bird that appears, when not even invited, although a solitary bird, it is a bird that is not shy of making it's presence known!  The cry, the squawk of the bird, causes the same reaction to man like nails scratching down a blackboard, a noise that causes you to turn away in abject horror but also demands you to look back to where the sound comes from. It's head will move from left to right almost mimicking the way you look at it, oh yes... this is a clever bird, a very clever bird, perhaps it is more human than we think, perhaps it knows what we are thinking, perhaps it is aware of the alarm that it causes, perhaps it is aware of the evil face it projects to us, perhaps it relishes in the fear that it gives to all in it's company! 

                 You just can't help it, those eyes seem to demand that you look into them, you will look away but you will always be drawn back. Unlike when you are staring at another human being, you can always look away when noticed, you can quickly avert your gaze, after all, you do not wish to appear rude but a Raven is a bird not an inanimate object but still, just a bird, just a big, black, bird. Funny thing is, when it appears, it just seems to do that, appear, none or very little noise, perhaps the silence is what makes this such a creature of intrigue, of mystic powers, maybe the sound of it's silence, is the sound of your own fear!  It seems to never look at you in a quizzical way, it seems to be bereft of any fear of you, it seems to show some form of contempt for you, you as a person, you as the scarer becomes the scared. The Raven seems to view you with the utmost contempt, almost with a aura of superiority about it, it looks you up and down, it seems to be judging you, you never saw me arrive and you will not hear me leave!

                

**********************************

      If I could talk, if you could hear me, then again, maybe I can and maybe I do but it is not words that you hear, it is fear itself, your fear, louder than any words...and I like that!
     'I know I make you feel uneasy, perhaps even frightened, but still you look at me, you can't help it, you do not want to but still you do!
     I know you do not like me, and I like that, is it true what you have heard, when you look into my eyes, what do you see, for it is you and your own fear, looking back at you... and I like that'!

***********************************

       So just what is it that you see, apart from yourself looking back, it is not the souls of the dead, it is not fear, fear is a state of mind, fear is a feeling, fear is within us all, yet still you look for the answer,  there is no answer but still you look and the Raven...I'm sure he likes that!
       There are some things that should remain, that should never change and the eyes of the Raven should be left to our imagination, they should create fear, they should make us feel uneasy, fear is the antithesis of boredom, fear keeps you, me and all of us alive, awake, on edge but most of all, ALIVE!