Fourteen

Posted on June 14, 2014

Tried to compose the opening to a novel last night – it generated some mirth on my own Facebook page, but I know penning the first draft of a novel needs more planning, slower character exposure and a steadier narrative pace, I think.

Sod’s law today – Saturday – it rains. Not that the rain bothers me. It doesn’t bother you, on 365 days a year off.

I still can’t decide what to do.

It’s funny what adversity does to relationships though – a friend from Oldham who I last saw when I worked with him in 1990 is now my adviser and confidante. Speaking with him again twice a week has made 24 years melt away. Teaches History too, which is remarkable as I wholeheartedly know that History teachers – over my long career – are always the ones to trust. It’s probably because of their knowledge and understanding of epoch shattering events like the Holocaust, the dissolution of the English monarchy, or canal construction in the 19th century.

They understand society, the actions of people on outcomes, to use a new term for results.

Just had a mental recall of History staff from 1987 to 2014 and yep all decent, many still good friends. Tell a History teacher a problem, they’ll support, reassure and maintain confidence. There’s three who have been exceptional friends. And still are.

I spent last night, penning a response to a letter from my employer and running it by two History mates – no doubt they regret befriending me. Friday night, the Dutch are shredding Spain and this bore is sending me draft responses. Bad enough him rattling on about gluten free, but Jesus man let it go.

I can’t though and I won’t let it go, which I’ll now start humming whilst thinking of snowmen.

Tonight, to break my behaviour and fixation, me and the mrs are going out, hopefully with friends but if not, together. A romantic walk along the promenade, hands clasped together, staring out to sea, thinking of chips and gulls. Climbing the steps to the Cliff Hotel, £5 in my hand for two drinks, forgetting our last trip to a pub was in 1996 in Cheddleton, Leek to the Boat Inn.

A quick drink then a walk down the steps to the Ocean Rooms for dad dancing.

Or, perhaps, we’ll stay in as per usual and draft letters.


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