Tuesday, August 9, 2011

When Squirrels Attack....

Nervously I sat waiting for him to show, my stomach in knots; much like a lovers Celtic knot. My insides were all tight and strained, like a ring that has outgrown its owner.  A million and one thoughts went through my mind, not least would he show up; one of my great fears which were aided by my great weakness ~ my lack of confidence. But my thoughts were like a million and one diamonds, and as soon as he walked into the bar those diamonds and their bright sparkle paled into a dull nothingness; the light in my eyes could easily light the way forward.

Had I really been longing for this moment? Was this going to be all I had dreamed it would be? Will the moment last? What if the feelings were not there? The doubt was there, ever present; much like Steffans itself ~ something I will always find in Northampton, like an old faithful friend; never one to ever let you down. All my fear and doubts came crashing to a head, my heart too full to speak; my mind not focused on what was so clearly in front of me. I was overwhelmed, like a kid in a sweet shop; or more likely a woman in Steffans with a limitless credit card ~ I wanted so much, but could say so little.

And just like when a Mother knows what her child has done wrong, he clearly knew; he could sense it. And without another word, he took me into his arms and held me fast against his chest; no words being needed as I simply melted into those strong arms of his. As he continued to hold me against his solid frame, we begin to kiss; a true lovers kiss. The type you hear about in fairytales and see in movies, the kind that makes you go weak at the knees and makes your heart sing. Like a string of pearls, they are timeless and scream class and style. As we softly pulled apart I could still feel his closeness, his smile was warm and his touch tender.

Our gaze locked upon each other, his big beautiful brown eyes telling all I needed them to say; my own eyes transforming the need for words ~ he already knew me so well anyway. We must have stayed like this for hours, our friends came and went; the punters came and went ~ like other jewellers, many will come and many will go; but Steffans will always remain ~ nothing and no one seemed to matter to use. And as the moment between us grew, the words formed in his sweet beautiful mouth; he had to say it ~ he knew that it was a now or never moment. Pulling me closer to him, I could feel it too; I knew this would be the moment everything in my life had been waiting for. Taking a deep breath, he slowly opened his mouth, pausing slightly before he spoke those momentous words he had been longing to say...

“There are kamikaze Squirrels about on the loose!”

My Kingdom for a Squaround Mug!

Squaround Mug ~ it’s not round, it’s not square; it is magic FM’s giveaway item!

And I want one, more than I have wanted many things in my life!!

I want one more than I want children, marriage, a job, money, food and even drink!!!

What do I need to do to get myself one of these mugs? I have tried everything, I have done the competitions; I have tried to be the fastest person to get my call or text message in ~ is it because I am from Northampton? 

I know I am not from London or living there; but my Nan lives there ~ in Abbey Wood… and my Dad was born there! 

As Mike Posner says, if I could write you a song to make you fall in love; I’d do it to get a mug! Though I cannot sing, so that might not work. Is it because you are Cooler Than Me?

Well, I can write; a little bit anyways. So I would like to write you a poem if I may, just for you; maybe you will feel that this warrants a Squaround mug?

I could start by saying how much I want one
How much I need one
But I am sure you have heard it all before…
I could tell you how great your station is
I could tell you this is the only radio station I listen to
And while it is true, it has all been said before…
As has, I never listen to anything else
Though this also is true…
To find the right words to impress
To find the right route
Maybe I need to return to the old fashioned road of begging?

Talk It Up. (assignment: dialogue)

Written entirely in dialogue. Done as a writing assignment, and an example of who to write dialogue. The basis of the story is a young girl visits her father in prison, where she tells him she is pregnant by a man her father hates. Her mother wants her to have an abortion; she does not seem so keen. Written to show how her father reacts and what the girl thinks to matters, hope you enjoy!

“Did you hear me Dad?” She timidly asked, not wanting to look up.
“I heard...” He just about managed to splutter, not willing to allow his anger to surface.
“I told you that I want to keep it...” She added defiantly, not even allowing what her mother wanted to have any baring on her life.
“He won’t stay.” He added, knowing all to well what his “sort” was like.
“Yes he will, he loves me!” She replied softly, not completely sure of the man she had been seeking comfort with.
“Ha! Don’t make me laugh...” He shouted, raising his voice so the other inmates and officers heard him.

“What does your Mother say?” He asked, knowing the answer already.
“She... she thinks...” No matter how hard she tried, she just could not bring herself to say the words.
“Get an abortion, go on; say it...” He answered for her matter-of-factly, staring ahead of him blankly; while all his daughter could do was nod numbly.
“She’s right too, you’re only a kid for fuck’s sake!” He added, finally allowing some of his anger to show; not realising what he had actually said.
“I’m 18 Dad... two years older than when Mum had me!” She spat back, not ready to be put down in such a way.

“You talk as if I have not thought this though...” She said more softly, sighing deeply as she stared out of the high windows with bars against them.
“You haven’t...” He threw back, knowing deep down he was wrong; they had brought her up better than that.
“Bollocks...” She shouted back, now it was her turn to make them all look; right on queue the room did as she wished.
“Mum was 12 when she lost her virginity, I was 18...” She began, just about holding her calm.

“She was 16 when she had me, and you were 10 when you first got sent down...” She continued, her voice rose a little more; the room almost silent.
“I am nothing like either of you!” She added, her fists clenched; her own temper just being kept in check.
“And I am still your father, even if I am in here!” He quietly answered back, finally seeing that she had more than a point.
“Yes, and you will be a Grandfather when you get out.” She said softly, wanting to show him what lay on the outside of these horrible four walls.

“And you’ll be a Mother...” He began, not sure whom he was reminding.
“And HE will be the Father...” He just could not help but add that, he wanted her to know he was still angry.
“He’ll take care of me Dad... of both of us!” She softly said, wanting to end this row; these days were too few as it was.
"He best an' all..." He replied, trying to smile; knowing that life would never be the same again.

Nicky S.... for Serious Now!!!

Just so you know, my last name ISN'T serious. 

But, I thought it about time we quit with this political crap and got back to the point of this blog ~ somewhere to post my writings and assignment etc. Plus in truth, having three (at least, even I have forgotten) blogs is becoming tiresome! I really want to get back to one blog for everything ~ and no, there was no politics in that comment whatsoever!

Also, while I am at it; the picture I have used as my display is by an artist called Iain Faulkner.
The piece is called "In From The Storm" and all credit should go to him.
Not just for the artwork, which I still think is amazing; but also for the fact that it was this piece that got me back into writing again.

I saw it in a now long gone art gallery in Northampton (just off the Ridings for those of us that know Northampton) and it just instantly stuck me as stunning. I wanted to sit there and study it all day long, I think the girls behind the counter must have got fed up of me always going in there and just sitting there.

Anyways, I ended up writing a story based around it (I think I posted it on here ~ but it wasn't very good) and it got me back into writing. The picture has long since been sold; and as I said the gallery gone too.

But the one thing I am going to go back to doing is heading out to places and looking around for some ideas, that was one of my best plans; maybe it will work now?

And if you happen to see me out looking lost (or even thoughtful) come and say hello, you never know; it could help an old writer out...