WHAT A DREAM CLOUD

There is something rather nice about sharing nibbles, a pot chilli, and nachos with free flowing wine and conversation. Children and young adults can put you in your place and give you a perspective rarely thought of when nearing your fifties. Everyone without exception should revisit their younger self and dream on a cloud from time to time.

This evening after a rather fraught week my children, friends and relatives reminded me of the cloud floating time in my youth. You see I love riding motor bikes (fine weather only) I love the way it opens your senses and encourages you to float with your minds free thoughts.

I’m eclectic in taste and frame of mind. So riding down to Kent bike show one year I was looking forward to the diverse experience and decided to camp, but not to rough it totally. Kev thought he hit the jackpot when I jumped at the chance of going to this roughty toughty wet-t-shirt consumed two day show. A two man tent was his only concession he thought, I thought a double air-bed was in order and a change of clothes. Have you ever tried to get a double air-bed in a two man tent, or a change of clothes in panniers? Well from experience let me tell you it is not easy with either. Take the air bed in a two man tent, when you have the damned thing in place it bulges out the sides and pulls down the top so the canvas touches your nose. It was hilarious at the time but reliving it with people who see me only as upstanding mother of three –it was sublime.

View points and opinions of me changed, shifted and (most pleasing of all) broke. Lack of money and extra responsibility really do make you a two dimensional character.

This coming year I hope to take my bike test (just don’t tell Kev, the thought of me riding his Harley will fill him with fear) and ride once more the rolling hills on my own bike. But is this just a dream, one of those floating clouds of thought that just pour down in responsibility, until that very fine and beautiful cloud disintegrates. I do hope not, I want to be that three dimensional character, effervescent, and all floaty person I used to be.

What floaty dream cloud do you have, that frothy bit of your character that you hide from responsibility? don't be shy share it with us.

The Joy of Her

A while ago a very dear friend wanted some help writing down a story that contained her thoughts. She had cared for her mum through her illnes and as often happens when someone you love and depend on leaves you - so many emotions curl you up into a tight ball of sorrow, called grief.

Like the roses here (taken from Pearl's garden) as the tight buds opened up the beauty wrapped within the flowers uncurled, you could see the love blosom.

The Joy of Her

I see the joy of my mum in roses, her gentle ways, the way she wrapped us up in petals of love but I don’t think she knew how to nurture us as she nurtured her garden. I think that was our gift to her.
 
She was brought up in a time when no encouragement was deemed necessary I suppose, but it would have been nice to have heard the words ‘you did good!’ I sort of took it personally until I decided to plant the rose bush in celebration of her joy. I got to thinking; which is probably my problem of over analysing life, it’s the times we live in I think. We have to be accountable for each action we give a child these days, not the same for mum. She just wanted a family, it was enough and I guess we didn’t have to achieve to make her happy and being proud just wasn’t her thing, giving love was more my mum’s style.

As I dig the hole to bury the strong roots of the rose bush I have chosen and as I look at them I see my foundation from which my family has grown. Each branch strong and sturdy with shoots of beauty ready to flourish if I tend to them. It was then I understood why she loved gardening and arranging flowers so much. Lovingly you put everything you have into it, and at a distance – you admire. With us it was the same she watered and fed us, our every needs were met, and not until now – as my hands feel the earth have I given it a thought. She nurtured her grandchildren because she could not love them as she had us. She had to stand back and enjoy her love blooming through us to our kids. God I hope I can learn that lesson – how to back off and let my boys grow, enabling them to find their own roots so they too can bloom.

She had an acceptance in life that many of us take a lifetime to try to achieve, scholars spend decades trying to reach the Zen like state she found so easy. I’m not sure how deep the resentment of that quality goes actually. She had a profound inability to tell us off as children, I saw it as a weakness that always ended in laughter. Through her illness – that took her away from us bit by bit, she refused to try to understand it. That simplistic acceptance made me so angry at times. I now see it as a strength I envy.

Cooking, being with her family, holidays to Portugal, playing cards was her enjoyment but it was the looks and words she gave her grandchildren that was her joy. It’s what I miss the most and as I stand back and look on at all the rose bushes that glisten in the summers rain, for the first time I can see my glory. So why am I so angry? I have so often thought about this while in my garden tending my flowers and I think it was because I never told her or allowed myself to see it…. that I have finally seen and understood what she saw so clearly…. my beauty.

To Pearl and her family

X

I hope you  agree she did 'do good' and I'm very proud of her. Lots of love

Suffolk County Council The Stealth Bombers of the Education System

With the news of the bankers breaking all around us it is hard to take in how our society is. But we have always known, haven’t we? You walk a hundred yards down any street and you will hear the common people of this land, voice the common and pragmatic approach. They know when they are being hoodwinked, it has always been that way, and bullies have always enjoyed power and find it hard to say that they are wrong.

The government has sent the stealth bombs of deceit that has been falling down on our schools. Bombs veiled in a parents wish to do the right thing for their children and their teachers. The devastation is hard to see – a hidden crater in our education system, covered loosely by twigs of statistics.

As far as I can see, there are three phases to these cluster bombs. The first cluster has done their job well. They have fragmented the teachers, parents and information, dividing us in order to conquer us. One by one our schools have fallen. Stowmarket Middle school the latest to close, no announcements made. Now so close to the end of the academic year what can anyone do? Bactons fate is sealed. No information has been given out willingly, no plans have been shown, no structure put into place just teachers fighting for a jobs, funding and salaries.

Second, take all the best students and put them in a few schools. Bacton, will be taken over by a free school, so adding to this phase. Does it make sense – picking the best pupils and putting them altogether? What happens to the rest? The council try to show us how the middle schools have been failing, but are they?

These schools have done their best with the majority of lower achieving or troubled students. How is it going to improve, certainly not by taking space from our primary schools to make room for the extra classes and overloading our high schools!

Bacton primary school set aside a room for those children with social issues. They had a safe place to learn about empathy – something that is hard for some children with learning difficulties. This protects the class from disruptive behaviour allowing the teacher to get on with teaching, this along with half of the new library will be taken away to allow another classroom. A playground and the swimming pool will have to go too. Soon primary schools with 200 or less pupils will close and what will happen then to the primary schools that are left?

All through these so-called discussions, meetings hurriedly arranged so parents find it hard to attend let alone gather information together. The Plans and changes are always conducted with the middle schools left out in the cold?  Divide and they have conquered us. They have veiled our concerns to hide the ticking bombs and made us parents hold them in silence.

The third and final phase is the sixth form, now what will happen to them? No one has been told – a shrug implies they will stay as they are but how can they with an extra 200 pupils on site.

What is their ultimate game plan to improve education? Surely, the two-tire system will give greater consistency. Well very little true information and a lot of misinformation has been given so it is hard to guess. Maybe a few top schools in the area that make it all look good are the best we can hope for. And the rest? Well the other schools will have to do what they can.

In the reforms that endlessly go around in circles of harping back on the past. It seems to me a few things get forgotten – educating teachers to teach is vital but rarely mentioned. Children are not robots and with more children with learning difficulties this seems to me this should be the priority.

Parent teacher Associations should take pride in providing fun equipment for their children. Supported by the governors the teachers would feel valued. Valued teachers teach well.

The reality is not everyone can teach. We should all be able to understand that children are difficult. A quiet child is hard to engage just as much as an enthusiastic disruptive one but blame seems to take over and this is an error society can not afford.

A good standard of teachers – supported by parents, facilities and Heads

= Engaged and happy students secured with understanding

of what is expected of them behaviour and exams

gives good education

It is not hard to work that out!

This is a letter that I have sent in the vein hope it will be read before a meeting that I have just heard about takes place. In reality I'm not sure how much difference it will make but I thought we lived in a democracy, the way this has been handled I don't think we do.

The impact of restructure is a mighty one and at the moment we just seem to keep going through endless circles of change for the better? I think not. Why restructure when you can think wisely and tinker, to get things right.

My name is Tina Rodwell I was educated in a two-tier system in Cambridgeshire, and I’m dyslexic. I was in the lowest classes at school; my teachers and I were exasperated with the situation. They thought I could do better and saw intelligence and blamed lack of effort on my part for my exam results. I just thought I was thick because I could not learn the way they wanted me too.

My husband’s education, caught up in the struggle of putting the three-tier system in place was unsettled. Parents at that time, being told it was a good system. I firmly believe with the right support it could be. If children going up to the middle school were “buddied up” with their pier group of the previous year and again when they first go through the high school, transition would not be a problem. That way there would be no six weeks of worry over the holidays to what would be expected of them or what to expect. I believe this is what the pyramid system was all about and was persuaded of its merits.

My daughter went through a year of turmoil when teachers left because they thought Bacton was going to close.

My eldest son at Stowupland has had drop out teachers with constant replacement teachers. The biggest issue with schools no matter where you live or system you use, is keeping good teachers. I would guess that the conflict between school in fighting – caused by the uncertainty and their hands bound by the job they do, must be unbearable. Overall they are – people that want and need to teach.

All three of my children are dyslexic and have dyspraxia tendencies and a thing called Irlen syndrome. It does not matter to me what you call it but I do understand that we all learn in different ways – people and therefore children are not pre-programmable items. We live in a diverse society yet we still put constraints on it. This is used as a very valuable commodity by government when putting forward fluid statistics to support their ideas, after all it sounds good.

My eldest son wants to be a doctor and would, I think make a good one, but with his disabilities being misunderstood, and lack of consistency of teachers this is unlikely to happen.

The impact of rhetoric of government makes it all sound so plausible but expects us (the bound and gagged public) to walk a walk we instinctively know has no foundation and does not work.

Teachers are not allowed to express themselves, neither are the governors of our schools and trying to get a polite and courteous reply to a simple question has so far been beyond the council.

On Tuesday 26^th 0212 a meeting is to be held in Stowupland high school where no independent parent representative will be asked to attend and they will only discuss one proposal, my question is why?

This has been going on for six years and my children have suffered. Yet I was told to be quiet in one of the first meetings held, as this would not concern me, my son at the time was too young so this would not effect him. My family has been and will continue to be badly affected, with the coercion during this process unforgivable.

My daughter will be at high school taking her A levels when the restructure takes place. She will not know what school or teachers she will have through her A levels. How is this going to work for her and her teachers?

My youngest will be forced to stay in a Victorian school with substandard facilities with two extra year groups. He will no longer have subject specific teachers going into his sixth year of education. Let me just clarify that. He will have one teacher that will teach all subjects with no subject specific equipment.  He will have to wait until he is 11 going in 12 before he will be able to get to school safely (I kid not have you seen the primary schools in these areas) there will be no question of walking our children to school and no proper exercise at school.

He wont have a dining hall he can comfortably eat in, don’t get me started on toilets, a football pitch, tennis court so sport will be out.

Maths teacher and the equipment that they need in these computer frenzied times.  No support for English, not to mention the Sciences, but it is the teachers I morn the loss of, without the teachers what is the education system and that is what this proposal will take away form Angus.

My Question is for what or whose benefit are we changing the system?

Even after two more meetings have taken place, I still have no reply.

Walking along to the linnet’s song feeling the pulse of nature beneath her feet, Clair’s smile was as warm as the sun. This is what she had worked so hard to have. She had made a dash for some tranquillity in her life and had found it here in a small village in Suffolk.

She had reached the old oak tree her three dogs already knew the drill, and were wandering off sniffing the ground for hares, rabbits and deer. She was eclectic by nature and it showed in her assortment of dogs. Bear, her chocolate mastiff, Peaches, a Chihuahua and Fox Terrier cross and Scruff an apricot assortment that looked like a Jack Russell on stilts ­­– all from broken homes.

The mornings haze, slowly evaporating by the sun made a shimmering glow over the landscape. She had soon reached her destination, pulled Bears holdalls off his back and carefully emptied some of its contents, arranging them on the bank of the natural pond. In the distance, four deer stood, acknowledged their presence and nonchalantly walked away.

Clair knew most walkers had been and gone so she could paint in solitude. For her painting at this time had become her compulsion and her passion. It was making her quite antisocial – if she didn’t start talking to someone soon she would forget how too! She reflected on this point as she drew in the bulrushes and mixed her paint.

Her dogs with their noses to the ground in contentment, gave her comfort. She captured the beams of light, and picked out the differing lush greens of the leaves and grasses, all mixed in with the deep brown yellow of the growing corn. This background made the deep velvet of the bulrushes shine with lustier. Something was odd; too many dogs, a black Lab had joined her pack. He had calmly and without bother just taken up his place. Where there was a dog, meant there was an owner. Clair’s panic rose.

Her paintings were immensely private to her. She started to hyperventilate as she went into the now familiar uncontrollable, fever pitch of anxiety. A soothing calm voice apologised for disturbing her. The blood that had flowed to her ears muffled the words as she franticly looked round, but the sun glared her vision, so that only an outline of the man could be seen.

‘Gosh you’ve captured Rip!’ She looked down at her work and there in the foreground, was the character of him, captured by his demeanour, which burst out through his velvet eyes and glistened with innate intensity. She was stunned that she had been so absorbed – she had painted a dog she had never seen before. Rip must have been there for sometime, watching her through the long reeds. She stood back and agreed – she had done a mighty fine job!

The man slowly came and sat by her on the bank, slipping off his rucksack. In London, she had been hidden by the constant flow of the masses, she found in the country she became more prominent and felt exposed. It had over whelmed her and gave her panic attacks. For the first time she felt her breathing became more controlled, less frantic on its own.

“Sorry for startling you, I didn’t mean to pry but I would like to know if you would consider selling me your painting?”

“Oh!’ Clair fumbled not knowing what to say. She actually believed he meant it.

“I like the way you’ve shown his humour.” Clair smiled – she had somehow painted a mellow chuckle in the dog’s eyes. “Are you from around here or just visiting?” He asked.

“I’ve just moved into the little cottage, on the bad bend – back there.” She pointed in the vague direction.

“Oh I heard there was a young townie just moved in there.” He chuckled, a mellow and congenial chuckle to match his dog’s expression. She could also tell he had sized her up, understood her straight away. He accepted her for her, now that was refreshing.

“I’ve a couple of rolls” would you like to join me?”

“Love too, would you like a slice of quiche?” He started to laugh as she brought out the full picnic she had prepared – including half a bottle of champagne. She started to laugh with him. Bear’s bags where like the magicians hat, a feast fit for a table slowly emerged. Normally she would never have shown anyone, afraid of the ridicule. She liked picnics to be special, just for the sense of occasion. People thought her silly, over the top but to-day she turned fifty, and well there was something different in the way she felt, to-day she didn’t care quite so much what people thought, helped by John’s enjoyment of her little foible.

The Linnets took to the sky, Bear lay down and Peaches curled up for their lunchtime snooze, while the other two dogs went looking for anything that moved. The Linnets song hit the serenity note as two new friends talked about life in general and the village history in particular. There they sat amongst the grass, Clair with her tall elegant champagne flute, and John with his thermos flask cup.

As she loaded Bear’s bags up, John with natural ease called the dogs, and they all walked along the side of the fields to the road. It was no surprise to her that he was a dog trainer, his ability to command respect through his soft encouraging energy, was inspirational.

She got a girlish sense of fun at his face as he saw Peaches climb up into Bear’s backpack. Peaches face poked out periodically with a comical twisting to-and-fro to see what was happening and then she would pop back inside. Peaches now twelve deserved a rest. John was impressed with her agility and energy and instead of making a fuss or poking fun – he took a picture and set it as a screen saver.

“Most people would not believe a fighting dog would ever behave that gentlemanly way. I have to go to the local school and give a talk about dogs, the children would love to see Peaches and Bear” Clair visibly shied away, her pulse racing. John held her elbow while she breathed through it. “I would have to lead them, if you don’t mind, for insurance purposes – you know how it is these days.” He let go as soon as her breathing was normal and held her gaze until he was sure she was calm again.

Each time the insurmountable happened, she had coped and enjoyed the elation of overcoming, the awkward reaction to meeting new people ­– thanks to John’s warm and perceptive personality.

When they had gone a little further, he asked her if she would consider taking on a commission for him. One of his closest friends birthday was coming up and he wanted something special for him. Could she paint a dog from a picture? She said she would give it a go. He nodded and looked at her sideways and his expression made her believe that she was good enough for the task and his faith in her made her anxiety abate.

As they walked along the little birds hovered and soared, singing all the while. As Clair looked up she felt her new roots beginning to be set down here, amongst this year’s ripening harvest and the Linnets unwavering song.

Three Tier-system in Education

This is a letter that I have sent in the vein hope it will be read before a meeting that I have just heard about takes place. In reality I'm not sure how much difference it will make but I thought we lived in a democracy, the way this has been handled I don't think we do.

The impact of restructure is a mighty one and at the moment we just seem to keep going through endless circles of change for the better? I think not. Why restructure when you can think wisely and tinker, to get things right.

My name is Tina Rodwell I was educated in a two-tier system in Cambridgeshire, and I’m dyslexic. I was in the lowest classes at school; my teachers and I were exasperated with the situation. They thought I could do better and saw intelligence and blamed lack of effort on my part for my exam results. I just thought I was thick because I could not learn the way they wanted me too.

My husband’s education, caught up in the struggle of putting the three-tier system in place was unsettled. Parents at that time, being told it was a good system. I firmly believe with the right support it could be. If children going up to the middle school were “buddied up” with their pier group of the previous year and again when they first go through the high school, transition would not be a problem. That way there would be no six weeks of worry over the holidays to what would be expected of them or what to expect. I believe this is what the pyramid system was all about and was persuaded of its merits.

My daughter went through a year of turmoil when teachers left because they thought Bacton was going to close.

My eldest son at Stowupland has had drop out teachers with constant replacement teachers. The biggest issue with schools no matter where you live or system you use, is keeping good teachers. I would guess that the conflict between school in fighting – caused by the uncertainty and their hands bound by the job they do, must be unbearable. Overall they are – people that want and need to teach.

All three of my children are dyslexic and have dyspraxia tendencies and a thing called Irlen syndrome. It does not matter to me what you call it but I do understand that we all learn in different ways – people and therefore children are not pre-programmable items. We live in a diverse society yet we still put constraints on it. This is used as a very valuable commodity by government when putting forward fluid statistics to support their ideas, after all it sounds good.

My eldest son wants to be a doctor and would, I think make a good one, but with his disabilities being misunderstood, and lack of consistency of teachers this is unlikely to happen.

The impact of rhetoric of government makes it all sound so plausible but expects us (the bound and gagged public) to walk a walk we instinctively know has no foundation and does not work.

Teachers are not allowed to express themselves, neither are the governors of our schools and trying to get a polite and courteous reply to a simple question has so far been beyond the council.

On Tuesday 26^th 0212 a meeting is to be held in Stowupland high school where no independent parent representative will be asked to attend and they will only discuss one proposal, my question is why?

This has been going on for six years and my children have suffered. Yet I was told to be quiet in one of the first meetings held, as this would not concern me, my son at the time was too young so this would not effect him. My family has been and will continue to be badly affected, with the coercion during this process unforgivable.

My daughter will be at high school taking her A levels when the restructure takes place. She will not know what school or teachers she will have through her A levels. How is this going to work for her and her teachers?

My youngest will be forced to stay in a Victorian school with substandard facilities with two extra year groups. He will no longer have subject specific teachers going into his sixth year of education. Let me just clarify that. He will have one teacher that will teach all subjects with no subject specific equipment.  He will have to wait until he is 11 going in 12 before he will be able to get to school safely (I kid not have you seen the primary schools in these areas) there will be no question of walking our children to school and no proper exercise at school.

He wont have a dining hall he can comfortably eat in, don’t get me started on toilets, a football pitch, tennis court so sport will be out.

Maths teacher and the equipment that they need in these computer frenzied times.  No support for English, not to mention the Sciences, but it is the teachers I morn the loss of, without the teachers what is the education system and that is what this proposal will take away form Angus.

My Question is for what or whose benefit are we changing the system?

Do you listen to the corn pop?

Do you walk along a country path after the rain, and hear the corn pop as the sun shimmers down, when the earth smells clean and washed. The swallows fluttered wings quiver as their acrobatic swoops catch your eye and the linnet’s sweet song carries with the summer breeze, with all the heartiness of life, setting the English scene.

Do you take a deep breath, hold it and let the aromas of flowers entertain your senses? Hear the corn shudder in the breeze and rattle as though they are empty? But there in those seemingly empty shells, contained and bound is the food that will soon feed us, doesn’t it make you wonder?

As the rain comes down in thunders spots, that’s exactly what I dream of. I have been bedraggled and blown off course more times today than I would care to mention. Well Miss flights of Fancy, you will have to wind in your wings and take them somewhere else as the English weather is not for turning and you just can't fly in this weather. All I can say is hosepipe ban.

My Mum and Dad's 50th Wedding Anniversary

On the 3rd of march 2012 a village, friends and family walked together to celebrate 50 years of life together. 

What I remembered about those years when we were small

Best idea yet, get someone else to drive

Then came the toasts 

The pomp and ceremony were worth it for the memories we will all hold of the day Winwick came together with the Church, bell-ringers, Skiffle band, neighbours, friends and family to make merry and enjoy. 

My dad taught the bell-ringers and was very proud of them on that day for the dongers and dingers and no clangers could be heard with the song of the blackbird, made this country scene idyllic.

Tilly Moments: Parallel Universe Part 7 With love from Tilly x

Tilly Moments: Parallel Universe Part 7 With love from Tilly x: This is for a friend with my love, I hope it gives you strength x I sit here looking back on the parallel of our lives. His, taking him...

Parallel Universe Part 7 With love from Tilly x

This is for a friend with my love, I hope it gives you strength x

I sit here looking back on the parallel of our lives. His, taking him all over the world and yet he was alone and trapped but doing what he loved. Inverted in my universe where I was grounded to a home, alone and trapped but doing what I loved.

When our singular universes collided uniting our independent spheres we both knew that we would have to learn to live with each other. Relationships forged out of necessity to protect the children. I found out that Ian had tracked me down after Zara had seen Sophie in her school uniform and confirmed via a few pictures on my facebook.

I had grown to understand that his younger self could not commit. I truly believe he loved me but his mistress played with him remorsefully and made him dance her tune. But his mistress had lost her lustre and he found she was made of fools gold.

Christmas was breathtaking. Zara and Rafe are now my close friends and Francesca had learnt her boundaries and could be quiet entertaining, especially under Henry’s influence. I still feel trapped, crying out to be my own woman. I will be forever beholden to a family that my children call their own. I am grateful, just trapped.

I’ve taken Honey for a good long walk the house is tidy beyond tidy and I look at the clock again. This is the hardest thing of all being on your own, waiting for your children to come home. I have time now but no money to spend on doing things. I can’t compete with Ian’s financial position and not wanting to take away the fun money has to offer, I stand back but I do become resentful. I am here just for the discipline, cleaning and cooking. I drop and pick up the children outside the house though I’m made to feel welcome. I know if I saw him go out with someone I would not cope. Silly I know but there we go. Life still is a bit shitty.

My phone buzzed as I knew it would they were going to stay the night with Auntie Zara. I thought that being Valentines Day they would like to be alone, I was sure Rafe was taking Zara out.  I remembered that I hadn’t opened the cards the kids had left me so I went into the kitchen.

Henry’s Valentine was hand made with a miss shaped heart and a big kiss right in the middle he had drawn Sophie on it too. I started to cry. I cry at everything, always have. I braced myself for Sophie’s she always picked a good card that would have me blubbering for hours if not days. Deep breath, I cut my finger on the envelopes edge and had to leave reading it as the blood flow would not stop. I found a plaster and looked at the card more closely.

Ian had given her a camera for Christmas and by the looks of the picture on the front of the card she was seriously good. I sort of knew the area. Had we gone there on holiday? The church on the hill, there was a story attached to it something about the Black Death. I closed my eyes and caught my breath. Rolling down the hill at Wadenhoe, eating lunch by the river and then canoeing all the way back to the Hotel, it was our first holiday together. Tears started to run down my cheeks. He must have taken her there.

I had loved our life together and enjoyed looking to the future to what I thought we would become. That was the saddest bit the hurdle I fell at. I put the card down, she was not to know. I got the wine out of the fridge, poured a large glass this was going to be a very long night. I put on some James Blunt hoping his toffee voice could mellow me and I began to dance to ‘I Really Want You’ living every word. It was when I turned to sit down as my ankle began to ache; still singing really loud ‘I really want you’ that I noticed someone in full leathers.

The scream was intense, the scream was loud, the wine spilt and I slipped. Did I have trousers on? No! Did I have red knickers on Yes! I will be burning those bloody red knickers.

There was Ian holding my leg again.

‘What the fuck are you doing?’ Livid was an understatement. His face was bemused mingled with angry.

‘What the fuck I’m doing, what the fuck are you doing, you should be ready to go.’

‘Go where?’

‘Out’

‘Out where?’ He slumped on the floor beside me and looked at me. I mean really looked at me. Making me really look at him, I was not happy with him for that.

‘Did you get my card?’

‘What sort of card?’

‘Valentines card.’

‘Nope.’

‘The picture of Wadenhoe on the front.’

‘I thought it was from Sophie.’

‘You didn’t read it?’

‘I….. it made me cry.’

‘Oh.’

‘Yea Oh.’

‘I was being romantic.’

‘Why’

‘Because I have fallen in love with you, again.’

‘When, when did you fall in love with me?’

‘I’ve always loved you but when I saw you for the first time with Sophie you took my breath away.’ I was bundled up tight to protecting myself from the harm love can do. Can you forgive someone breaking your most precious rule? Not sure he would if I was the one sleeping with his best friend.

‘Then when I saw you going into the supermarket and followed you around. How you were with Henry I realised my work meant nothing until you have seen it.’

‘You’ve been stalking me?’

‘A little, do you mind?’

‘A little.’ We were so close our backs to the sofa, shoulders nearly touching, excited breaths rasping our uncertainty.

‘It gets worse! I might as well be completely truthful. Before the old guy pinned your leg to the side of the trolley park and I come running to your rescue. You have beautiful legs.’ I rolled my eyes and we both laughed. Of all my features I have always thought my legs were the ugliest now even more so with the scar.

‘I had followed you several times.’

‘You said truthful, how many exactly?’

‘Fifteen ish.’

‘Fifteen! How come I never saw you?’

‘You weren’t looking. You were…’ I looked around at him and his eyes glistened.

A small cough to clear the tears he let his hand drop so that I could hold his if I wanted to, which I did but couldn’t.

‘It was when you were talking to Henry I lost my heart and gained my faith.’

‘Faith is a bit strong.’

‘When you have seen and done what I have you loose your faith sometimes.’ He picked up my shaky hand and squeezed it right on the paper cut. I flinched and he immediately dropped it.

‘You were being asked about Bill; you protected Henry and sent him off to get something from the shelf. You were so sad for a split second then you carried on being you. I think Henry is the greatest little guy I have ever met.’

‘Would you have ever spoken to me? Or just followed me?’

‘I would have eventually.’

‘Sophie.’

‘Yea I guess but I didn’t want to talk to her before I had met you.’

‘But you did.’

‘Only because I was about to go off with her mum in an ambulance, I didn’t want her thinking I was some strange man.’

‘But you were you were stalking me!’

‘I just wanted to make it easier on her. I’ve booked a table if you want to go on a date, with no strings attached.’

I didn’t want to go for a meal, the whole idea seemed wrong to me. Formal, cliché and inappropriate not sure I wanted to relive the past. I just wanted to rummage his body and see if it was as good as I remembered but that seemed inappropriate now his intentions had been laid bare in-front of me.

I had to see his work all of his work. He would always keep a couple of pictures hidden from anyone.

‘Take me to see all of your work that would be my dream date, a good bottle of wine and a private showing.’

His face lost all colour. For a true artist to show all their work good, bad and private was a true test of how he felt about you. Oh I was not cleaver I hadn’t thought about it in those terms until I saw it in his face. It was a big ask.

We arrived at his studio; we had stopped on the way to get a bottle of champagne and strawberries and without a word I went in. He opened the wine expertly and I started my search. There all around me was the man I knew he would become. Moments captured, exposed like no other medium. All of human kind was hanging around me infiltrating my understanding of what nature and other humans can do to the planet or each other. Impact of missiles to the glove of a fighter or attach of a rioter to that of the actions of a dictator. The loss of home, love or life with crumpled bodies, crumpled lives, haunting stress filled faces all asking why.

Now I understood. I could never have lived with this but the world and history needed this. His mum had been insightful protecting her son and in some way protecting my little universe. I looked at him and saw the sadness the need to be held.

He waited for my reaction with bated breath. But how could I express how I felt? He led me to another room as the other had drained me this one filled me with energy and hope. Humanity flooded through and there in the middle was Henry, Sophie and me. The beauty in our normality shone.

The biggest Picture hung like the biggest planet amongst a universe of feelings. It was taken just after Christmas and the time we had spent together. It was around Zara’s the only place we met now. Henry had just jumped with joy he was in mid air; Sophie was in eyes raised in OMG! Mode captured with every detail of her strong personality. But the whole focus and where your eye was drawn to was me. It was not a flattering pose it showed me as I would love to be though. My face had this look you want to capture and hold. Ian had a great talent; greatness was in his prose of the piece. 

The shining stars around a universe shone more brightly when two parallel lives collided, making one sphere.

I could see for the first time the bigger picture, his message to me.

I really want you!

This is a live performance and looking at his face like Ian's Photos in the story, paint the emotion. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2ubiinfvXs0

Parallel Universe Part 6

Tomorrow will be the last part of Parallel Universe. Let me know if you enjoyed it  x

How on earth am I going to figure this one out? And why did he want to be part of our lives and why now? Why did he track me down and come and live a stones throw from my door? I have never been one for conspiracy theories but it was beginning to feel like one.

‘Should we ask the children what they think would be best? Ian suggested what I would’ve done in any situation like this. I couldn’t ask the questions buzzing around my head, I was too desperate for the right answers and I wasn’t sure I would get the ones I wanted. I could feel the pain of my heart breaking already.

‘Yes, I guess we should ask Sophie and try to explain to Henry. They could stay with my friends until I’ve decided what’s best.’ I was thinking out loud but the shift in the atmosphere caused a tension that vibrated through Ian. I prickled with irritation over not being brave enough. But the situation was diverted when I got a call from Sophie and Zara was bringing the children over on Sophie’s instructions.

I dressed with the help of Ian which was compromising and eventful. As he had packed my bag my, his intentions was leapt out of it. None of the comfy clothes were there. He defended his reasoning with that they were easier for me with a plastered leg. He examined each delicate item until he got a smile or a laugh from me. I would have preferred to slide down the stairs on my bottom but having a very nice dress on made that impossible and he conceded that perhaps it was a little intractable but enjoyable.

We were sitting in his large bright modern kitchen that still held the historical charm of the building when Henry came rushing in to find us. Excited and bemused by everything he saw which brought warmth to Ian’s face, it brought chills of anticipation all over me. Which object would he get a fascination with and break? As Sophie followed by Zara came in he asked the question…..

‘Daddy Ian what’s a bummer and can I see Harley?’

I choked on my coffee, Sophie uttered

‘Oh my god! You just can’t say anything around him.’ And Zara’s eyes nearly popped out with laughing.

I could have rushed to Ian’s rescue and explained about young children’s minds but it was too precious of a moment to spoil with common sense. I just looked straight into Ian’s eyes with the joy of the humour and let him find his own way out of this one.

He decided to skim over the “daddy Ian” bit and got to the ‘Bummer’ and to my surprise he knew what the little chap meant.

‘A Hummer is a big American car.’

‘Can I ride in it?’

‘If your mum says that’s ok.’ I nod my head at the two boys with exciting toys eyes.

‘A Harley is a motor bike’ Henry was beside himself with pleads that would not abate so Ian held his hand and took him off to show him his toys, explaining that they were loud, leaving Sophie, Zara and me to have a catch up.

‘Why is Henry calling Ian, Daddy Ian?’ Sophie looked down mortified

‘I was talking about my dad.’

It was the first time she had had a dad she could call her own and I just couldn’t rip that away from her but how could I stop Henry from getting the illusion of having a father figure back in his life. I could see the glassy tears start to form and my heart cracked a deep crack that only your child can give you.

‘I think Ian understands.’

‘That’s not the point Zara, I’m forced into a situation I didn’t want and I’m not sure I can cope with.’

She came around to me and they both put their arms around me and the tears fell from us all. We pulled away at the same time Sophie started to explain her and Auntie Zara’s cunning plan.

Zara was an interior designer and property developer with Ian. They had a few three and four bedroom houses for rent around Bury St Edmunds.

‘Zara said we could take one that had just come up for rent, fully furnished over Christmas rent free so we didn’t have to stay with Ian.’

Sometimes I thought I would burst with pride.

‘Sophie you can call him dad, we will just have to get to some understanding with Henry later ok?’ She nodded and I saw the tears well up again. I held her hand.

‘You would be doing me a favour as houses empty around Christamas can be a liability. Another good thing Mum doesn’t know about this one either so you will be safe…. for a while.

Can Henry call me auntie?’ I smiled and loosened the grip of control just a little more they obviously could sort things out well enough without me. Now how scary is that!

‘Of course he can.’

Rafe walked in and put his arm around Zara hugged her and came over and kissed me on the top of the head. Love oozed from them as I coloured a little after what I had said to Ian about him and as we discussed moving into the house I tried to get my mind around the ever shifting relationships. 

Tilly Moments: Parallel Universe 5

Tilly Moments: Parallel Universe 5: Fifteen years of responsibility came tumbling out, of not sharing the burden or the joy. In the time it took me to fall asleep I know I s...

Parallel Universe 5

Fifteen years of responsibility came tumbling out, of not sharing the burden or the joy. In the time it took me to fall asleep I know I spoke of loss but they all merged and mingled. In the middle of his bed I lay alone as I had over the years. I took no heed over his pleads to console until exhausted I quietly slept.

Voices and the pain woke me and my eyes took a while to focus. I flinched every time I remembered some of what I had said last night. My innermost thoughts and concerns rang in my ears and the contortions it caused on Ian’s face. I had never vented those emotions to anyone before.

I had to decide quickly what I wanted to happen, what direction I wanted my life to take and how to let go so I could guide Sophie so that she wouldn’t get hurt. I tried to move but the pain was intense and I had no idea where the painkillers were.

I assumed that only having one leg incapacitated would mean the other three limbs would oblige and help me out but silken sheets were slippery suckers and before I knew it I was sliding onto the floor. Boobs slipping their anchorage just as the door opened and Rafe and Ian came in. My bottom half was cocooned within the bed covers and as I grabbed anything to cover my dignity I fell flat on my face.

They ran to my aid, rearranged and straightened me out.

‘I was looking for my painkillers, my leg woke up hurting.’ They both smiled down at me. Ian went to find them leaving Rafe to sit me down. The room was elegantly beautiful and I sat taking it in as Rafe fussed around raising my leg.

‘You ok, you look…’

‘Like shit? I tried to give myself cheep Botox on the floor but missed and enlarged my nose instead.’ His concern left as his humour took hold of his face.

‘I have to leave soon, do you need anything? I can call back’

‘I’m sure I do but I can’t think of anything.’

‘Well call me if you do.’

‘Would but I don’t have your number.’

He gave me a business card and we both felt uncomfortable, unsure. In came Ian and put a tray on a writing table.

‘Have you boys kissed and made up?’

They looked over to me and smiled. I took the tablets that were being offered. They started talking business and it transpired that Rafe was Ian’s agent. Ian held off two shoots that he was due to do this coming week rearranging and rescheduling. Squeezing my shoulders and kissing the top of my head Rafe left. Now life was complicated and shit or was it shitly complicated? No such word as shitly but in my world there should be!

Coffee with warm milk poured by the type of man I find irresistible in attitude and looks, first thing on a Saturday morning without the kids, oh how I had dreamed of that! Always be careful what you dream for is a warning I should heed. All my friends that were divorced, divorced their feelings towards their ex’s. I seem to indulging in my every fantasy. He sat there studying me as I sat indulging my daydreams, well lets face it, that was as far as it was going to go, I might as well enjoy it.

‘I know you are going to be sensitive to any suggestion I make and suspicious but I think the kids should live here over Christmas. They are off from school; you need a few days of rest and a bit of a recoup.’ His face twitched when he knew a sensitive subject was coming and as far as reading me he was doing rather well but like all men he didn’t see the bigger picture. I tried to keep emotion or thought out of my face.

‘What do you think?’

‘You just want the kids?’

‘No I just assumed you came as a whole package.’ A nice touch I though using Sophie’s words against me so softly and gently.

‘What about after Christmas?’ He was confused I enlightened him to my thinking. ‘After they have lived in this space and had the life you are willing to give them for a week, what then? How will it be for them when they have to return home?’ I knew there was no room for all of us back at mine but I was concerned how this would impact on the children, mostly Henry.

‘Henry is so very young to understand that his father dies and Sophie gets a new one who lives in a house like this. When they have got to know you, what then? I could never offer them a life like this and your mother will not be able to stop herself from reminding me of that!’ He could have defended everything a thousand different ways but he chose to agree with me. But it was his next statement that had me in turmoil.

‘I want to help out, I don’t want to make their lives or yours harder than it needs to be or has been. I’ll do what ever you think is best I just want to be part of your lives.’

Parallel Universe Part 4

As promised here is the next part. 

I sat on the edge of the bed as my ex-husband ranted and raved to his friend about keeping his hands off his wife. I couldn’t help the bubbles of giggles that erupted the absurdity of the man was amusing in a strangely perverse way. He had never shown that amount of feeling to me when we had been together. The idea that a complete stranger would find me attractive was a little silly too, did he not see that?

Anyhow if Ian had kept his lustful needs under control just a little he wouldn’t be in this predicament. This last point I think he must have forgotten. The fact that he felt he could still treat me as a position of sorts narked my sensibility so that my sensible side just evaporated. I felt my left eyebrow rise and my eyes widen. In the middle of his illogical argument he looked at me, I had the slightest of smiles that held his attention. Rafe followed his gaze squeezed me and got up to leave.

‘You don’t deserve her’ he looked over to his friend and then back at me ‘Will see you in the morning. Give him what he deserves is my best advice. There is a good man deep inside sulking’ as he walked past Ian he laid his hand on his shoulder. ‘It’s a good job I know you but she is a free woman so don’t screw around or you will lose!’

As he left the threat lingered on. Confused a little and loosing the will to think it through, a stiffening, starchy anger built up that erupted a little within my mind but exploded out of my mouth.

‘I want a drink.’

‘You can’t your on painkillers.’

‘It’s time I was taking some more so they are out of my system so it don’t count! I want a drink, wine would be good, whisky if I have to and then you can sit down and tell me what the fuck you think you are playing at.’

I never knew I could glare but it worked its magic and off he trotted with his good looks shining through. Bugger him!

I heard his footsteps as he came in with the wine in a cooler and as I lay on the bed he sat on the pillowed chair his feet on the sumptuous matching stool. I had braced myself and had thought of what I wanted to say. It was witty and classic, organised and grown up but that was not what came out of my mouth Oh no! What came out was truthful and childish.

‘Let me just get this off my chest before you explain yourself. You have no claim over me or my daughter. For one tiny sperm and one second of pleasure does not give you the right to take the last fifteen, nearly sixteen years away. And for your information I like sex! And I will have sex with whom I like. If you can fuck my friend when we were married I can fuck your friend when we have been divorced for the last sixteen years. Got it!’

There lingered for a time thoughts of retrospect on his lips but he swallowed them and took a big gulp of whiskey. I sipped the lush refreshing wine, composed myself and carried on.

‘Why have you moved here and did you track me down?’ With his eyes averted to his whiskey he nodded.

‘Why?’

He searched for words, ideas and reasons but he just shrugged his shoulders.

‘Just knew I had too.’

‘That is so typical and so selfish.’ I saw the pain and wondered why it was there. ‘I’ve had enough of today; I can’t be bothered with it quite frankly.’ He laughed a small ripple of a laugh that vibrated through the air and touched me ever so slightly.

‘Why the laugh?’

‘Because when you’ve had enough you just close down, because you can never stay angry for long. You are never bitter.’

‘You have no idea.’

I took another sip that was bigger than the last one and savoured its flavours, closed my eyes and took in a breath to heighten the taste. Tears for no apparent reason started to fall he made a move to come over to me and I held up my hand and stopped him. I didn’t want his comfort. Then it all came tumbling out.

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Parallel Universe Part 3

We all visibly sighed, for different reasons.

‘She is quite a young lady’ Francesca turned bemused and looked at me. I took it as a compliment but too exhausted to really comment. Zara squeezed my hand, her eyes were electrifying and she made me smile a deep and proud smile that buzzed.

‘I’ll take mother’ as though her mother was a misbehaving child. ‘And ring you in the morning’ looking at Ian. ‘Do what your daughter tells you.’ She scolded Ian. ‘That sounds so good, doesn’t it? I’m an aunty!......Now look after Jane.’

‘I think I will have a coffee, one of those nice coffees please Ian, I just want a word with Jane before I go’.

Zara had come back in with their coats. Ian stood smiling at his sister and his mother, one of those smiles Henry uses when he finds me and Sophie funny. I could feel myself swoon a little with the fatigue a sharp look from Ian to me that was swiftly conveyed to his sister, who gently manhandled her mother out of the house with efficient ease. Ian bringing up the rear so that Francesca could not double back and escape her departure.

So here I was in that other place that I so could have occupied. With a broken ankle late at night with no change of clothes, not even a toothbrush, desperate to get home and in my own bed. I started to text David about the dog and one came straight back at me that I knew was from Sophie. David would never use ‘OMG’ and he wasn’t that fast at returning texts.

‘Would you like me to carry you up stairs?’

‘No’ Was my short and startled reply. It was an amusing idea though.

‘Do you think you could make it up the stairs with help?’

‘I want to go home.’ There was a longing in my voice. At this ungodly hour, on a cold and bitter night it was a silly idea, totally impractical. Ian picked up on the vulnerable need and we made it to the door without too much effort or problem but when he drove his vehicle to the front of the house, my will to go home fell like an icy cold waterfall. How the hell was I going to climb, with a plaster on my leg and in an increasing amount of pain into, a chrome fitted black Hummer?

‘You have to be kidding.’ His eyes were full fun! How could he do this to me after the day I have just had. Fun was not what I could cope with and as the tears started to form into dew drops he held out his arm and somehow I trusted him! Him, of all people in the world as soon as he pulled my arm and swung my body expertly as a fireman, he carried me to the Hummer like a sack of potatoes. Had I decided to wear trousers that day? No, Short skirt and red knickers! They cut my thick denier tights off.

I felt like those sack of potatoes being loaded onto a lorry. He was not short but neither was he very tall so as I slipped missing the seat by a few inches, he grabbed my arse to hoist me into the seat. With an innate reaction, I slapped him around the face. Fuelling my indignation and in his good humour he took the slap with a low rumbling chuckle. Loading me in was one thing getting me out was going to be another and then there was the fact he would know where I lived. Swimming thoughts, sickening feelings and the worst thing of all is that we only lived ten minuets away from one another. How had that happened, I would like to know!

His house was in the centre of historic Bury St Edmunds, a short walk to the shops but quiet enough to be enjoyable. Mine was a two up two down clipper house as our finances had tumbled through Bill’s illness; we had to move just before he died. I wasn’t ashamed of my circumstances but I didn’t want pity. But as we drove up to my home, his face held it anyhow.

‘Jane I can appreciate you would like to sleep in your own bed and you need a few things but…’ I knew before he uttered the words. ‘Don’t you think it would be best if I grabbed a few things and took you back to mine?’ I don’t think your leg would take me swinging you up your stairs.’

I closed my eyes determined not to let my dew drops fall, they abated after sensible thought. I handed him my keys. Looking reassuringly into my eyes and he squeezed my hand. He went in my little universe. I visualised him ransacking the pictures dotted around depicting my life with Bill and the kids, opening my intimate draws, finding private things about who I have become. His eyes would scan every detail with his photographers and philosophers thoughts rummaging through and finding out about me. I had started to shake, for the first time real sadness bubbled within me, why was life so cruel.

I had just started to find my feet, now there was the ironic joke but I had started to stand alone again. Bill’s illness and his eventual death was new, I still woke forgetting he was gone and when I started to think of all his needs my body would sink and then I would remember that he had slipped from me, I would, with relief take a painful breath. But me and the children were forging a life together and to have had that without other complications, just for a few years would have been good.

He emerged with Holly my sweet little shaggy dog. Who was sick every time we went out in a car! I thought of my book and the wine again and my collision with that other universe. He went back inside and emerged with a holdall Sophie used for sleepovers. Its pink and purple flowers were not out of place in his hands and I wish the years of pain that man had caused me would flood my indignation, as they did in my mind when I had visualised our meeting again. I felt nothing though just so very, very empty.

He was back in the car and we were off and my thoughts turned to how I could possible get out of the car by myself. People had gathered around the streets as Christmas parties had come to their climatic end. Great! With my short skirt, red knickers and bulbous painful leg, and on the other foot was high heel shoe entertainment for the crowds no doubt. To add to the torment a friend of Ian’s came over to find out the story behind the new lady. Slightly drunk he slapped him on the back ‘you found her then.’ He looked down to my leg and slightly puzzled, hazily processed the fact I had a cast on my leg ‘What happened to you?’ slapping Ian on the back again. Before Ian could explain, I without thinking remarked with a hoity shrug

‘I tried to run away but fell for him and broke my leg’ He immediately sobered and laughed. I liked his laugh, it warmed me.

‘No wonder he has been looking for you, I like you.’

‘I like you too.’

‘Do you think you like me better sober or drunk?’

‘Sober!’

‘Bugger, better sober up and I’ll see you tomorrow.’ He turned to Ian ‘You going to keep her?’

‘Rafe, would you help us out?’

‘With pleasure.’ His smile flipped my butterflies, enchanting my senses with his genuine pleasure at seeing me. Like a pair of crutches they helped me up the stairs with Honey in hot pursuit. Innuendos flew around as I was guided to Ian’s flamboyant bedroom and they sat me down on a Chaise Longue. Ian went to fetch the bags and Rafe kept staring at me in a very pleasing way. His short thick blond hair, stubbled chin and sparkling blue eyes played with my face lingering on my mouth and eyes. In his mid forties and slightly drunk, inhibitions were set free and instead of bravado there seemed an earnestness about him that I liked so when he came and sat next to me I started to gravitate towards him.  

Ian walked in with a face like thunder when he looked over to us both, but Rafe just smiled over to him and put his arm around me and tugged me close.

Rage is spontaneous and rather uplifting I thought.