Clarke My Words

There once was a young gopher named Timmy whose bright, eager eyes saw nothing but beauty everywhere he looked. He had an insatiable thirst for knowledge and loved nothing more than to go for long walks with his mother, discovering more and more about the forest. One day, because Timmy had been very good and had kept his room nice and tidy, Timmy’s mother agreed to take him on a walk. Timmy was overjoyed and practically dragged his mother away as they said goodbye to papa and set off from their den. As they walked, the young gopher chattered at his mother with a seemingly endless stream of questions about the oaks and the dandelions, the butterflies and the reeds. He eventually broke away from his mother who, weary of being tugged this way and that by her excitable little boy, let him go with a quiet warning to stay where she could see him. Deeper and deeper into the forest they went, Timmy scampering gleefully back and forth around the comfortable amble of his mother. He would run to...

Ok, so what now? The train is quite literally leaving the station. And so am I. I’ve been thinking about this meeting for, like, the last five days now. I’ve been trying to decide what I want to say to him for five fucking days and here I am, closing on these turnstiles, still as clueless as I was when...oh shit...where did I put that ticket? Right, this is going to take a more thorough search than first thought so let’s move out of this queue. Don’t you sigh at me, you dick. How much of a hurry can you possibly be in that this six second delay to your day has put you out? Especially since you cruised up the escalators, you fat prick. God I hate digging through this thing. How much of the crap in this handbag do I ever even use? Better safe than sorry I suppose. Oh, there it is. Right where I’ve never once put it before. That makes sense. I didn’t even know it had that pocket. Ok, take a breath, calm yourself, regain your composure. You’re back on street level now and the pub’s just r...

Ten minutes late as I step off the bus. Right. That probably means I’ll only be waiting about fifteen minutes. Could be worse. Might as well enjoy a cigarette now before I get to the pub. Or should I check in there first? Probably best to check first. Could head off unnecessary problems if the unthinkable has happened and she’s here on time. Screech of brakes. Jesus, where did that car come from? Apologetic wave, consolatory jog out of the way. Let’s see what we can do about not getting killed today shall we? I’ve got to wake up. Snap out of this. Focus. Right, there’s the pub. Pat the pockets. All present and accounted for. Let’s have a look-see at the money situation. Excellent, a couple of crisp Darwins and change, so no hunting for the elusive non-rip-off cash machine and no card at the bar. Everyone’s happy. Entering a pub just hasn’t been the same since the ban. All so sterile and stark. Time was when all these fugly-ass people would be shrouded in acrid mystery. Still, no use c...