‘Another one’s appeared, on the oak tree, pathetic and disrespectful, cultural appropriation or is it misappropriation?’
‘Just ignore them Oberon.’
‘I’m going to take my axe to it this time.’
‘Don’t be so ridiculous, they aren’t causing any harm to us, not compared with all the other stuff they do.’
‘What if one of our folk thought it was a real door!’
‘Daddy, why have you got an axe?’
‘Your father’s getting overwrought over the giants again. If you’re not careful Oberon they’re going to see you and then where will we be, doesn’t bear thinking.’
‘Mummy, you said the giants wouldn’t hurt us.’
‘They won’t as long as they don’t believe we exist. Anyway, it’s time you were getting ready for school, have you brushed your wings?’
When I arrived, Uncle Brian was furtling around in the compost heaps.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Potpourri potential.’
He was a man of few words.
‘I can’t imagine you will find anything fragrant there.’
‘Potpourri for insects, a quick way to attract all sorts of creatures when you are rewilding your garden.’
‘The customers who come to Grandma’s rose nursery are unlikely to be into rewilding are they?’
‘Sell on the internet, besides, roses are going.’
‘Going?’
‘Yup, going same way as your gran.’
He turned his head and nodded towards the Victorian brick tool shed, behind which smoke spiralled into the air. Now he had drawn my attention I noticed the divine scent of wood smoke and wandered in that direction. My grandmother, his mother, had requested she be cremated and her ashes placed in her favourite rose bed, but the cremation was not taking place till next week. I tiptoed round into the yard to be confronted by a tangle of burning rose wood.
‘Has there been some kind of rose disease?’
I did not know much about Grandma’s beloved roses, but I knew she inspected every leaf and petal for signs of spottling.
‘No, told you, roses are going, getting a rotavator in, then let the grass grow, the seeds blow and the weeds return.’
It was the longest speech he had ever made.
‘Does Mum know what you are doing?’
‘Nope, doesn’t need to, this was left to me.’
It was true that Brian had been the one who lived and worked here and frankly we assumed Grandma left the nursery and house to him as the prospect of him working or living elsewhere was unlikely.
A few weeks later we took Grandma’s ashes with us to the Chelsea Flower Show where she had had many successes with her prize roses. We met up with her good friend Gerald, a Chelsea Pensioner who had a red rose named after him. He was wearing a ‘Captain Gerald’ rose bud in his button hole and took us to a quiet spot in a rose garden where the Pensioners liked to sit and where three of his rose bushes took pride of place. No one was around so we quickly interred the ashes in the bed and left Gerald to his memories.
A few more weeks passed and we hadn’t heard much from Uncle Brian, but that wasn’t unusual. Mum thought we should pay a duty visit soon. That evening we sat down to watch Gardeners’ World, commenting on roses that weren’t as wonderful as Grandma’s.
‘Actually, I never really liked roses in the garden,’ said Mum ‘all that trouble and most of the year they are prickly skeletons. But birthdays, Xmas, new babies what did I always get? Another rose; climbers, ramblers, patio pots, bushes, old classics, new varieties named after us….’
‘How come we have so few in the garden then?’
‘I don’t think roses liked me, they never thrived and often died. Brian had the right idea.’
As if he had heard her the presenter moved on to the next segment.
‘While many people treasure their roses, others feel the need for a change. We visit a former rose nursery in Surrey where all the roses have been dug up and the whole area rewilded. Brian Floribunda has just been recognised as holding the national collection of dandelions.’
There was Uncle Brian standing amongst waist high grass surrounded by tall dandelions waving in the breeze.
‘How long did it take you to establish this wonderful collection?’
‘Few weeks, they pop up everywhere given the chance, quick turn around, not long to breed new varieties.’
‘How many varieties are there?’
‘Fifty Seven so far, just working on creating a blue dandelion.’
‘That sounds incredible or impossible.’
‘Not as difficult as producing a true black… got to get on…’
Uncle Brian turned away and the presenter was unable to get any more conversation out of him. The camera panned round the Field of Gold.
‘Grandma must be turning in her rose bed’ I said.
‘Especially as she never managed to appear on Gardeners World’ said Mum.
How had I been persuaded to be the fortune teller at the annual fair? My only qualification was that I liked browsing in charity shops so my best friend, who was on the fair committee, figured I would be able to find clothes and jewellery to fit the role.
For half an hour not a soul as much as peeped into my tent. I gazed into the crystal ball, but it could not tell me if I would have any customers, probably because it was just a glass sphere that caught the occasional ray of sunshine through the tent opening. Most of the time the sun was behind a cloud. Perhaps nobody had been enticed to come to the festival.
Then I heard giggling, my heart sank and I was transported back to our school days. Jane and I spent most of our time giggling at things no one else would find funny. Adults on the bus or in the shops would glare at us and we would dissolve into further uncontrollable laughter. Happy days, but now I did not want to be the subject of amusement.
‘Ask her if Troy will ask you out.’
‘You ask her who you’re going to marry.’
‘Ask her if you will pass your GCSEs.’
‘…and exactly what grades we’ll get.’
The first girl to enter, or rather be shoved in by the other two, was underdressed in the skimpiest of clothes and I found myself tutting, was I turning into my mother?
‘Sit down and cross my palm with silver if you want me to look into the crystal ball.’
‘What… do you have to pay, have you got a card reader?’
This was not going according to plan, fortune telling was obviously much easier in the good old days.
‘Well my dear, as you are my first visitor I will grant you a free reading. Close your eyes and concentrate. Now I see something to do with your future. You will soon learn something that will be of great importance to the future direction of your life. It may not be what you expect, but it will lead to a good outcome eventually. Now send your friend in as I feel she needs to hear something important.’
She rushed out of the tent and jabbered excitedly to her friends.
‘It works, I’m going to get good GCSE results.’
The next girl’s expression was hard to read under the layers of make up. She offered me a fivepence piece, quite savvy then. I accepted it, after all I was only doing this for fun. I put my hands round the globe and closed my eyes.
‘Ah, oh dear. I see disappointment in friendship, but do not be disheartened, forge ahead with what you want to do in life and I see that one day you will meet someone very special.’
‘When, when?’
‘I cannot tell you that for sure, but it will be when you least expect. Now I must talk to your other friend. Three is a lucky number and three friends you will always be.’
I was beginning to enjoy my role as a dispenser of wisdom. The third girl was different, the quiet one no doubt. She looked as if she was likely to get excellent results for her exams, but never be asked out by the likes of Troy. I warmed to her, was that me when I was her age? She proffered a fifty pence piece and I pretended to gaze intently into the crystal ball.
To my astonishment I could see pictures. My stomach contracted, did I really have powers? A girl who looked ill, poor, on a dark street, sleeping on the street, how did this happen? Was it her home life, or getting in with the wrong crowd, the wrong man. I glanced away and saw a worried expression on her face. I smiled reassuringly and forced myself to peer again. Now I saw a rainbow, was it just the sun beam filtering through the glass … the picture changed to a smart confident woman on a stage, at a lectern. Before I could see who she was addressing, the picture faded and in front of me was the ordinary glass ball again.
I took her hands. ‘You have a bright future, with lots of choices, as long as you do not waste opportunities. Keep only those friends that are true, stay true to yourself. Don’t be influenced by the crowd, you don’t need to be like everyone else.’
‘Oh, that’s rather deep, you must be real, not just dressing up for fun.’
‘Indeed I am. I hope you have all learned something important today.’
Christine Brown perused the local Facebook page; Colour Consultant, what was that supposed to be? Improve your well being by learning which are your colours, your special colour. Free consultation offer, today only, drop in at the Emporium.Why not, Christine had a free day and she had never been inside the emporium.
A feast of colour met her eyes as she walked through the door; fabrics, exotic clothes, cushions, occasional furniture and stunning rugs. How very different from the taupe walls and grey carpets at home. Why did she always agree to Geoffrey’s choice and demure to his supposed superior decorating skills?
Lindy DeSilver had her cosy consulting corner upstairs near the Tropical Jungle café. It looked like a cross between a tent and a grotto. Christine approached hesitantly, not sure if another customer might be hidden in the depths. A jangle of earrings heralded the appearance of Lindy at the entrance.
‘Yellow, yes definitely yellow, come in, come in.’
Wall hangings, mirrors and odd dangling objects adorned the interior which was larger than Christine had expected.
‘Sit down dear.’
Christine looked around for a chair, there were none. Lindy was pointing to a pile of cushions, sitting down on them was a lower drop than Christine was expecting and she found herself semi prone.
‘That’s it, make yourself at home. I see your life is lacking in colour.’
Christine’s sensible beige clothes were a bit of a giveaway she guessed, but no doubt Lindy said that to everyone, hoping for business.
‘Yellow is your prime colour and your band is citrus. Do you align with the Mediterranean, South America?’
‘Umm, more Rottingdean, though we sometimes venture up to Yorkshire.’
‘Sorry to hear that, but never mind, you don’t need to visit colourful places to raise your spirits. Look around the emporium, who would have guessed it used to be a Screwfix warehouse?’
‘My poor husband was very upset when they closed this branch, but I certainly prefer the emporium.’
‘I sense your husband is on the grey band, prime Warm Pewter?’
‘Dulux, how did you guess, at least that is what he is doing the feature wall in the living room at this very moment, polished pebble for the other walls.’
‘My dear, you have to get out of there or at least decide whether to change your décor or your husband.’
Christine was beginning to wonder if the woman was insane, or a mind reader and at which point she earned money.
‘This is all very interesting and you have inspired me to look around the emporium and perhaps buy a couple of scatter cushions.’
‘More drastic action is required, but don’t worry, that is where my skills come in. I can help you choose a new wardrobe and my interior design skills will then come to the fore. My total home makeover comes at a very reasonable price.’
Perhaps it was the fact that Geoffrey had a week’s golf holiday in Rottingdean or Christine’s pay rise, but somehow she found her life taken over by Lindy. In moments of sanity she wondered if there was a helpline for vulnerable beige people, but as the results of Lindy’s energetic plans became obvious Christine no longer felt beige, brown or grey, she felt invigorated. Nothing escaped Lindy’s attention and soon the neighbours and even the postman were paying attention.
Chris, what wonderful hanging baskets.
Love your yellow front door Mrs Brown.
I adore that dress Christine, I wish I had the confidence to wear colours like that.
Goodness, what will your Geoffrey say when he gets home?
‘I suspect he might be speechless, do you want to come in for a golden smoothie?’
Mr Tickle, what fun, and this room is so bright, how brave of you to choose yellow and that wallpaper on the feature wall reminds me of our wonderful trip to Peru. You must give me the name of your interior designer.
‘She’s very persuasive, I was just going to buy a couple of cushions and one of those talking sunflowers in a pot, then the next thing I knew… come and see our lime green bedroom.’
‘It’s on local radio now, as well as all the social media.’
Councillor Brian Blogs was beginning to wonder why he had been so keen to get elected, let alone becoming the leader of the council. His colleague Jaylene turned the radio up.
Locals are up in arms over the gigantic new art installation down on the sea front, apparently installed without any consultation. These were some of the comments.
I thought the council were broke.
Call it art, monstrosity.
Completely spoils my sea view.
Brian turned the radio off and proceeded with plan B. Go and see it for himself. Would the public believe the council had nothing to do with it? The two black monoliths were not there yesterday and this morning they were, set firmly in the ground …
‘Jaylene, call the police and um, do we have an engineering department? Could this thing be dangerous, topple over?’
Brian had to admit he was impressed. The monoliths stood close, an eerie silence emanating from them, amid the hub bub all around. Black with a strange glitter, interesting textures … his thoughts were interrupted when a microphone was shoved in his face.
‘Councillor Blogs, who came up with the idea for this very unusual structure?’
‘Absolutely no idea, this has nothing to do with the council, it has been illegally erected. Our engineers will be examining how it can be removed safely and police will be investigating who put it there.’
‘Is it true that no one saw it arrive?’
‘CCTV footage shows nothing there one moment and the next moment it was there, as if it had appeared from outer space. I suggest our next move will be to get the UFO experts in.’
Brian was rather pleased with the result of his radio interview. All the UFO experts and other nutters had come out of the woodwork and taken interest away from the council. He was beginning to think they had the only logical explanations.
‘Time to put away your toys children, count the Jenga blocks to make sure none are missing.’
‘Daddy, two are missing, I bet it’s Yogo’s fault.’
‘Yogo, have you been throwing toys down the chute again? If those blocks have fallen out that will be another planet we can’t secretly visit.’
‘Daddy, you promised we could land, we’ve never been to a planet with water.’
‘If the inhabitants are clever they might already be tracking us, we can’t take the risk. Let’s see what data Mummy has found out.’
‘Mummy, Mummy are there any people on this one?’
‘Yes darling, just like us, except, except… they are very small, that explains how they fit so many on their little planet.’
‘How small, I promise to be careful.’
‘As small as your Lego figures. We would frighten them and that goes against the second convention.’
‘But I want my Jenga blocks back.’
‘Daddy, can we have some as pets.’
‘No, certainly not, that goes against the third convention. We do have an obligation not to leave litter so we will use electromagnetic extraction and hope no tiny humans are in the way.’
Florella was bored, very bored. Shopping was not the way to spend a sunny summer day. She was nine, too old to be stuck with her mother in the freezer aisle. Her mother was not even shopping, just gossiping with her friend. They could never go round the supermarket without meeting someone they knew, but suddenly an escape idea presented itself. Her mother would not even notice if she walked out of the shop.
Outside the sun was warm on her face and Florella’s arms began to thaw out after the cold of the freezer aisle. Her feet took on a direction of their own and propelled her down the road, down the lane and towards the park by the river. But as she approached, Florella thought she must have gone the wrong way. This was not the park. Caravans were parked beneath shady trees, there were patches of wonderful bright green grass where the sun reached. It was magical, where was she? The strange place, the adventure of really running away, made her brave enough to explore.
The grass was still wet after yesterday’s rain, but she did not care if she got her feet wet. Florella sauntered amongst the caravans. All the doors were closed except one. She wasn’t quite brave enough to look inside, but didn’t need to as a girl suddenly popped out.
‘Hello, what are you doing here girl, you don’t belong to the circus.’
‘Circus, what circus?’
‘You can’t have missed our big top!’
‘I was looking for the park and I found myself here.’
The girl put her finger to her lip and beckoned Florella to follow. Sure enough, beyond the trees and caravans was an enormous tent. The girl led Florella to a small flap.
‘We’re not allowed in, they’re practising, one tiny peep.’
Florella looked at the jumble of people inside doing acrobatics, rolling over barrels and swinging on ropes. She was entranced, but felt a tight grip on her arm and found herself being dragged away. Her disappointment was brief as she found herself propelled into the girl’s caravan.
‘What’s your name girl and what were you up to sneaking round?’
‘Ella and I’ve run away.’
‘Oh so have me and my Dad, maybe you could join the circus, we’re leaving in three days, on the road again. Will you be my friend, I never have a chance to make friends as we have to keep moving, but it’s a good way to make sure no one finds us.’
‘What is your name and how old are you?’
‘I’m Magdalena, nine years old.’
Magdalena’s life sounded far more exciting than Florella’s, even the other girl’s name was exotic.
‘Same age as me. Actually my full name is Florella because I was adopted after they found me in a flower meadow,’
Florella did not usually tell lies, but then she didn’t usually run away to join a circus. The caravan was full of colourful costumes and all sorts of strange objects, hoops, skittles, trumpets…
‘Do you perform in the circus?’
‘Not yet, I have to learn, Dad’s going to teach me.’
Magdalena started showing Florella all the things that were called props and told her about clowns and girls standing three people high in a pyramid. Florella felt in a dream until voices shouting broke the spell.
‘Ella, Ella are you here, Florella are you here, your mother’s looking for you.’
Florella felt sick, who was looking for her, how had they found her? She stood up in panic, but Magdalena pushed her back down on a pile of costumes and pulled the door shut.
‘Shsh…they must not find us.’
No sooner had she spoken than the door was wrenched open and a man burst in. He had the angriest expression she had ever seen on a grown up’s face as he turned from Florella to Magdalena.
‘What the hell is going on Mags?’
‘Dad, it’s okay, she’s my friend.’
‘What have I told you about strangers, now she’s got the police onto us.’
Florella was really scared now, she hadn’t called the police and why was he so worried. The last she saw of her new friend was her being hauled out of the caravan by a pair of big tattooed arms. Trembling she peered out the door, but Magdalena and her father seemed to have vanished into thin air.
The voices were getting louder, men’s and women’s voices.
‘Florella Fenton are you okay, Ella call out if you’re here. No one’s cross with you. Over here Sarge, caravan.’
Ella tried to shut herself behind the caravan door, but a large hand grabbed it.
‘It’s okay, what’s your name?’
Florella thought she probably should not lie to a policeman, nor did she want to get her new friend in trouble, she must think quickly.
‘Oh that’s a nice dog.’
‘He’s a clever dog, he found you quickly.’
‘I was not lost, I just came to have a look at the circus.’
‘That’s okay then, but you must tell me your name.’
‘Ella… Florella Fenton.’
‘Good girl, now did you meet anyone from the circus?’
‘No, NO.. I’m sorry I looked in someone’s caravan, will they be cross?’
‘Don’t worry, I’ll explain. Your mother will be here in a moment.’
Florella dared to look up and saw a group of annoyed looking people in strange costumes, they obviously were cross. A woman with bright red lipstick and a strange hairstyle stepped forward.
‘We don’t want trouble, we never seen her before, what’s she saying?’
‘Ella, have you met any of these people?’
Florella felt she had a brief chance before her mother arrived and no doubt she would be cross and spoil everything.
‘No, I’m sorry I trespassed, but can I join your circus?’
‘Do you think you might be a bit young to leave home, it’s not an easy life and you would have to help put up the tent.’
Ella got the impression the other circus people were laughing at her and so were the police officers now gathered. Red lipstick woman came closer and stood in front of the policeman.
‘Free tickets for the girl and her family and your officers and you leave us in peace; every year we come and never had trouble.’
Florella thought it might be a good idea to see a circus in action before joining it and as she saw her mother approaching and tried to interpret the expression on her mother’s face, she hoped the free tickets would placate her.
‘Have you found a job yet Joel? You’re not going to lounge around this house till university starts.’
‘Nothing wrong with winding down and actually I am going for a job interview this afternoon down at the sea front.’
‘Good… lifesaver, beach warden or are you going to serve at that new Sandbourne Seafront Diner?’
‘Nope, going on the big wheel.’
‘But you hate heights!’
‘I don’t have to go on it, just sit in the box taking the money.’
‘Was that the best job you could find?’
‘Yup.’
Joel was successful at the job interview, especially as no one else had applied and he was enjoying his first day. He soon discovered he had a good way with the customers, or passengers as they were supposed to call them. Kev was impressed with the steady flow of people lining up to be inserted safely by him into the Flying Pods. Joel had a reassuring manner.
You tell your Gran there’s nothing to be scared of, all the grannies go up and love the view out to sea.
No, your Dad was kidding when he said you have to climb up that high ladder to get on. You just have to wait for an empty pod to come round to the platform.
Of course it is safe, did you ever hear of a big wheel toppling over?
I assure you it never gets stuck, it’s never come to a halt all the time I’ve been working here.
The morning went quickly, but then Joel noticed his orderly queue had come to a halt and a small crowd was gathering and looking up. At that moment Kev came rushing to Joel’s box.
‘Don’t sell any more tickets just now, bit of a hold up.’
‘All the pods full?’
‘Yes unfortunately, the wheel’s stuck.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Stuck as in won’t go round.’
Joel thought of the nervous aunties and scared little kids he had urged on board, knowing he would never go in a pod himself.
‘So what happens next?’
‘Axel sorts it out.’
‘Where is he then?’
‘Away on a safety course in Wales.’
‘Do you know what to do?’
‘No, I only do the buttons on the ground, I’m not allowed up the ladder as I get vertigo.’
Joel thought of his science A levels and the mechanical engineering course awaiting him at Cambridge University, somehow that did not seem as if it would help this situation.
‘So we call the fire brigade then.’
‘NO… boss would kill us, we don’t want to lose our licence.’
‘Where is the boss?’
‘Goodness knows, I think he was on a bender last night. Anyway, I think I remember what Axel does, he takes a heavy spanner to the top of the wheel, it’s always at the top that a pod gets jammed. Axel is very set on safety, so you must clip the safety harness on to each rung as you go up.’
‘I can’t go up!’
‘Well there’s no one else.’
‘I thought Joel would have been home by now… what did you say John… local news… hang on I’m coming… Oh goodness, Coastguard helicopter hovering over the wheel and all those fire engines and it looks like someone’s stuck on the outside. Good thing our Joel only works in the ticket box. He’ll be sorry to have missed all that excitement if he was already on his way home.’
Sundown seemed to come early, but it turned out I was actually dead, which came as a bit of a surprise. It was a pretty sky, but not as dramatic as one might expect for one’s last sunset.
The sky faded away imperceptibly and I was left standing, standing where? A station concourse with many other figures standing around looking confused. Nobody spoke and we all avoided looking at each other, so we were left staring at the multitude of signs, like the London Underground only more confusing. Which direction to choose? I naturally edged towards those in English, or rather those that included English amongst other languages.
CHRISTIAN
So we/they were right all along? No hang on Muslim, Hindu, Atheists… they were in for a surprise… Jews, Agnostics, Jainism…
I decided Christian might be the logical choice, but as I stepped forward three more signs came up… Catholic, Orthodox, Protestant… surely earthly divisions didn’t continue in the higher realms? I decided it would have to be Protestant and when Church of England and nonconformist signs lit up, C of E seemed the sensible choice, though I should really have gone with agnostic.
A guide floated into view and called Christine Brown. I nodded, I couldn’t seem to find my voice.
‘Year of birth? We have several Christine Browns.’
That was hopeful, perhaps there had been a mistake and I was not dead yet, after all I was in good health.
‘1963‘
‘No, you’re not on the list.’
‘Phew, I knew there must have been a mistake, you mean I’m not dead?’
‘No you are dead, just not allocated here.’
‘But I was Christened, named after the Good Lord himself and I’m English, it’s our established faith, you have to let me in.’
‘That’s as maybe, but it’s not a faith you adhere to.’
‘But I went to Sunday School, I was in Pathfinders and I’m always at the church, well I meet my friends in the Refectory Tearooms.’
‘But you don’t actually enter the church.’
‘I was at the free lunchtime organ concert only last week.’
‘The last time you attended a service of worship was at your cousin’s wedding thirty years ago.’
‘And that was the last time she set foot in a church!’
I laughed at my own joke, but the higher being did not have a sense of humour.
‘Even then your mind was not on God, during the prayers you were more interested in what everyone was wearing.’
I suddenly felt chilled to my core, this wasn’t a dream, this was real, how did this being know so much about me? Perhaps I should have been more humble.
‘Please forgive me, I did not mean to be rude, it’s just a shock, being dead. Could you please tell me where I should go.’
‘I cannot tell you, that is for you to decide, you have had sixty one years to think about your soul. Everyone here sees only what they understand.’
‘But I don’t und…’
I was alone, he had faded away and as I spun round in confusion I saw more signs. GAIA, thank goodness, that was where I belonged.
‘Welcome,’ said a gentle voice ‘have you got your visa?’
‘I am pretty sure I belong here, I am environmentally friendly, I watch David Attenborough, I’ve rewilded my garden and built an insect hotel and a hedgehog door. I do feel closer to God in the garden.’
‘What about the bees and flies that die every day shut in your hot conservatory?’
‘I try to catch them, I can’t stop them coming in… and I never kill spiders or even ants… I’m not sure what more I could have done.’
I felt a wave of warmth.
‘Don’t worry my dear, you have just done the best thing ever for wild life on earth.’
‘Oh, thank goodness, what did I do?’
‘You died.’
‘Little me gone can’t make much difference…’
‘No, but we have just cleared sector 5321 of all humans so those creatures you profess to cherish will thrive.’
Rory never tired of asking the same questions to delay bed time.
‘The adoption society said to us
Well Mr and Mrs Asimov, you will be pleased to hear you have been selected for the special programme. You should be welcoming a new family member very shortly. We have several potential sons who will thrive in your family. The next step is to visit Future Family Foundation on our open day next week.‘
‘Were you excited Mummy, was Daddy excited?’
‘We certainly were, but nervous as we did not know what the place would be like. But as soon as we walked in the door you came rolling up to us and said ‘Hello Mummy and Daddy’ and our hearts melted.’
‘But hearts can’t melt, if they did you wouldn’t work anymore.’
‘That’s just a saying Darling. We did not bother to meet the others, we just asked if we could have you.’
‘Did you take me home then?’
‘No, we had to have some sessions with your foster parents, getting to know you, do you remember that?’
’No, I just remember being in this house.’
‘Now it really is bed time, it’s getting late.’
‘Are you glad you got me.’
‘Of course, you made our family complete.’
‘Do you love me more than Chloe and Eliza?’
‘We love you all the same. Now, it’s time to say goodnight.’
‘Are you and Daddy going to die one day?’
‘Yes, but not for a long long time.’
‘Are Chloe and Eliza going to die one day?’
‘Yes, but not for an even longer time.’
‘Am I going to die one day?’
‘No Darling, you’re special.’
‘But who will look after me if you die?’
‘Chloe and Eliza and one day their husbands and their children, but you don’t need to think about that for years and years, now its time you were plugged in.’
‘Mummyyy… Chloe said she and Eliza are going to switch me off when you are dead.’
I was pottering in the front garden on Sunday, or rather digging, tugging, planting, weeding, sweating… but it was nice to be out in the sunshine chatting, with all the neighbours also out. I should say the neighbours were going out, coming back, going out again while I went nowhere. But there was still time to chat on matters of importance; which bin is going out this evening, shall I paint your side of the fence? There was a bit of drama when next door sent a text to ask me to go round and check on her daughter who wasn’t answering her phone.
The day was further enlivened when strangers started appearing and some of them were strange. A weird chap had leaflets in his hands.
‘A vote for us is a vote for change. Jerry is a local man born and bred. He will make sure enough social housing is built, while at the same time protecting all our green spaces.’
Among the bees and blooms I had forgotten we were having a general election, that we were all doomed whoever was in power.
A couple turned up.
‘We’re sure you are aware how much Terrence has done for this town in his sixteen years as your representative.’
‘But he hasn’t done anything to save the planet…’
‘Well nice to speak to you, can we count on your vote on the fourth of July?’
‘Good afternoon, are you fed up with the other parties not keeping their promises and lying?’
‘Have you got any positive policies on the environment…’
‘Yes, in this leaflet you can see us digging a pond at the primary school.’
Along the road there next appeared a strange sight, a flowing green and rainbow cloak, a tall person being led by a guide dog. I couldn’t tell whether he needed the dog because he was blind, or because he had a bucket on his head. It was a bit difficult to hear what he was saying, but the dog seemed to understand.
‘Are you from the Monster Raving Looney Party?’
‘No, that’s the other chap. I’m an independent, Count Bucket Head. Have you decided who to vote for?’
‘No, I just don’t know who to believe.’
‘Well you can count on me, I know what people want because I am a person. My manifesto is in the pamphlet, made entirely from recycled paper, recycled by me with no chemicals used.’
’Yes I can see you have steered clear of the whole glossy leaflet concept.’
I started reading with growing interest.
‘Voting rights for assistance dogs?’
‘Are they not more intelligent than the average voter?’
‘Yes…’
Our pot holed pavements to be made safe with cushionfall laid on all footpaths.
Homes left vacant for more than two weeks to be requisitioned by the local council.
All bonuses to be rescinded and put in a new contingency fund.
‘Whose bonuses?’
‘The bonuses of anyone who gets a bonus.’
I browsed further, there was a lot to read.
‘All sounds good to me, you can count on my vote.’
Times and Tides of a Beachwriter 