Sunday 20 May 2012

PLINK, PLINK, FIZZ


When Gillian woke, she knew something felt wrong, but she needed a moment to stabilise her brain. 

The wine or whatever else she’d drunk last night had obviously been more potent than her normal one. Back in France she’d been able to drink a bottle or more with lunch, and still been able to going back to work without a problem. Maybe it was the lack of food that had caused it, or maybe it was a bad drink or seven.

Either way, her mouth was dry, her head was spinning and she felt rough. Not the normal sort of rough that comes from a slight wine hangover but more from some sort of a `vodka` induced event. Maybe that was it, maybe it had been vodka, and she could sort of remember someone shouting if she wanted a drink, but over the noise of the party she couldn’t hear properly so she’d shouted back for a pint.

Back home, she’d usually wake in the early hours and take a pain killer before falling back asleep. Waking later with only a clear head and a fluffy memory, but for some reason, the pain killers had not worked.


Maybe if she’d been home and used her painkillers, then this problem wouldn’t have happened, but then again, if she’d been able to actually get home none of this would have happened. She could feel a tickling between her legs, and she just hoped she’d actually made it back to her friend’s house and wasn’t in some strangers 
bedroom. But the knock at the door and the friendly face of Rachel reassured her that she had actually made it okay.

 
`Do you feel up to a Full English Breakfast? ` She asked quietly from the door.

`No` Gillian waved the thought away. `Not a greasy English Breakfast, no. Do you have croissants? `

`Sorry` Rachel shook her head, `You look really hung over. Do you want an Alka-Seltzer or something? I have some in the kitchen cupboard.`

`No` Gillian shook her head. `I tried two last night, but it did nothing to remove the headache. `

`You did remember to take them with water didn’t you. Remember, Plink, Plink, fizz?` Rachel nodded, reminding her of the instructions. `I told you last night.`

 
It was then that Gillian realised another thing she didn’t like about the English, and the reason she felt, odd down below. `They’re not suppositories are they? ` She shouted as she ran to the toilet,
the fizzing continuing from her bottom.

Saturday 12 May 2012

GRANDMA

Inspired by a piece of art from a very talented artist called `Chris Larkin`

http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=422118097812566&set=a.233633449994366.66702.232586313432413&type=1

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Grandma.
By Ian Hawley

Emily didn’t know how long she’d been crying for before she ran out of tears, the empty feeling of loss made her feel sick, and she couldn’t put her thoughts into words to explain them. She understood what death was, she’d seen dead pets before, even buried a few of her own, but this was different, more, well, more final. When she thought of her Grandma, and the fact that she would never see her again, the idea that she wasn’t there to listen to her problems, to offer her advice was just, well, too hard for her young head to take in.
She climbed of her bed, still holding her damp, tear stained pillow to her chest as she walked over to the window and looked outside. The wind whipped at the trees outside as and she sniffed as she watched the leaves as they danced before her eyes. Her Grandma had always loved a storm, and Emily smiled at the memories she had of sitting on her knees as the thunder rolled outside.
`Don’t you let the daft old weatherman scare you, Emily` she used to say, `The way to beat him is to make him scared of you, Like this.` and then her Grandma would shout at the thunder, and Emily joined in before they both fell about in fits of laughter and she smiled at the memory. 
The balloon she’d given her at her Birthday a few weeks ago floated gently by the window, moving slightly in the breeze that managed to filter through somehow into her room, and she stopped to stroke it. 
`I miss you, Grandma, ` she whispered. `I miss you so much. ` She ran her hand over the shiny red heart as she spoke, feeling the material crinkle under her little fingers. `I want to give you this heart back, so you know how much I love you. ` She whispered, as fresh tears ran from her eyes. `That way, there will always be a little of me to keep you company. `
Taking the string in hand, she walked slowly from her room and down the stairs; no one looked as she walked passed. Everyone seemed to be in a world of their own memories, so she quietly opened the front door and stepped outside.
The wind made the balloon pull her hand, but she held on. Holding it tightly in her fingers and she realised that she didn’t really want to let it go, that this balloon was important to her to and she started to sob. `Mum told me when my fish died that you sometimes have to let those you love go, so as not to hold them back. But I want you to be here, I don’t want you to go. Why did you go Grandma, Why...`
Suddenly a sudden strong gust pulled the string free from her hand and the balloon shot upwards out of her grasp, and Emily screamed as she realised what had happened, causing her mother to appear quickly behind her.
`Emily, are you okay? ` Her mother shouted, running over to hug her, and hold her close.
`Grandma’s balloon.` Emily sobbed, `It’s gone and I want it back, I want her back.` She buried her head into her mother’s shoulder. `It’s not fair. `Her mother didn’t answer her, actually, her mother didn’t move at all, and Emily realised that something about that wasn’t quite right and she slowly pushed herself free. Her mother continued to stare behind Emily and as she slowly turned round, she saw the balloon, holding itself in the air a few feet from them.
`Grandma` Emily shouted happily, `Grandma, is that you? ` She pushed herself free from her mother’s arms and ran to the balloon and the wind whipped her hair from her face as she reached up to grab the string, but she stopped herself before she did.
`You know what, Grandma` she smiled, wiping the tears from her face. `You keep it, look after it for me and shout at the storms for me. Just as long as you come back to see me sometime, I’ll be okay. The next time it thunders, you listen for me shouting, Raaaaaaaa.` she roared. 
The heart floated before her for a moment before bobbing down slowly to her height and bopped her on her once on her forehead before shooting up into the sky.
`Bye Grandma, I love you` Emily called as it rose peacefully away. `Bye...`

Monday 7 May 2012

STOP


Joshua was worried and he didn’t like the feeling. He was normally a very calm and stable sort of person, always aware of what was going on and what was expected of him, but not today.
            Everything had been fine until he got on the bus to go home; he’d sat down next to a little old lady when it happened. He would normally introduce himself to his seat partner, something he’d done now for almost all his life, as he hated the thought of not talking, of missing the opportunity to meet someone new and make his life more interesting.
            She turned to say something back and stopped, not just gone back to looking out of the window or reading the magazine, but actually stopped, frozen mid conversation. Joshua had politely waited for a moment, in case it was a medical condition she suffered from, before he’d spoken again.
            It was then he noticed everyone else had stopped, the bus had stopped, even a bird flying past the window outside had stopped in mid air. He reached passed the lady and tapped the window, hoping that the bird would startle and move again, but it didn’t, so after a moment or two he picked up his bag and made his way downstairs.
            The first problem he had was getting passed the woman with the shopping, she stood in the aisle before the exit and Joshua had to bend and squeeze himself under her arm in order to get to the door, and what little of her he did touch felt solid and cold but he was eventually through and pulling the door open before climbing down onto the road outside, before closing the door again behind him.
            He judged it was a good three miles to his home, but at least there would be enough light to see by and as he walked he marvelled at the frozen world, all those people stopped in mid heartbeat and the silence was terrifying.
            There where people arguing, their faces contorted and frozen in anger, others laughing, but the majority seemed to look sad, they walked down the road with their eyes on the floor, not even aware of the people they passed, the people that could have affected their lives for the better, and it made Joshua feel sad for them to have missed the opportunity.
            The world was filled with so much beauty, so much wonder if only people would take the time to look. All it would take was each person to stop and do something different, to stop following the normal route of their lives, to just realise that they have but one life to live and to waste it would be a shame.
            He stopped about a mile from home and put his bags down on the floor before crossing the road. On the other side he could see a young boy frozen between two cars, he was just about to step out into the path of a bus that he was to busy to see.
            With considerable effort Joshua managed to turn the lad slightly so he would walk into the stationary car, giving him a bruised knee was better that the other option anyway, Joshua reasoned, and you never know, that kid could invent something wonderful now and change the world, now that he would remain in it.
            The little things, they were all Joshua lived for, those little things that everyone else missed, and even now in this frozen landscape, he could still see the beauty around him, more so even. He always took time for things like this, and he found himself actually enjoying the experience.
            He enjoyed the bigger picture view as well, it wasn’t just the little things but the effect they had on others, the domino effect almost. He stopped to move a bird from under the claws of a cat that had managed to move up on it, he’d even stopped a mans car keys from falling down a drain, and for the hell of it, he swapped the coin half way into a coin toss, wishing he could see the child’s face as his 10p turned into a pound.
            Once home, he threw his bag onto the sofa before walking over the grandfather clock that stood in pride of place in the middle of the room. He chastised himself for forgetting to reset the weights, but smiled as the clock ticked again and the world continued outside, but in the end though, at least no one would know if he forgot.