I was aware of a closeness and I looked to my left and there, just a few
feet from me was a magnificent red stag, just looking at me, just wondering
what I was doing, not frightened, just wondering. He could have spoken to me and he would
have said
“morning! What are you up to?” and
I would have said
“I’m trying to catch a hawk with my home made stick traps” and then he just
walked off. And when I told Charlie
he said “you have to be very careful, they’re rutting at the moment, they can
be really aggressive”
“I know they are, but it was fine. It is always fine.” It was
more than beautiful. ‘I sit here
every day, looking at the sky, ever wondering why, I dream my dreams away and
I’m living for today in my mind’s eye’.
Joseph
saw blue shirt man still looking at me as I still saw the stag and he spun
around, 1000 miles an hour, “give him your number” his face is in my face, his
eyes are wide and wild and his mouth is open, jester-style, his hands on my
shoulders “NO!” I have stopped in my tracks, one step, two steps, third step
too short and my foot behind kicks the one in front “yes”
“no” and I try to look away, but he jerks me back
“yes, summer of sin. Remember?”
“Oh my God” I laughed, excited by
doing something so unlike me, got my biro out of my swiss army knife, rummaged
through torches, cigars, paper and baby oil, sex toys and rubbish in my handbag
and I wrote my mobile number down on the inside of a cigar box. I walked over to him as he watched me
and handed the paper to him and he put out his hand and took it, and then,
because I am a human, I spoke “I’m sure this is a really dreadful thing to do,
and I’ve never done anything like it before, but here is my number, I think I’d
really like it if you called me” and I felt my cheeks go hot and knew I would
be blushing. He looked at my face
the whole time, he looked at my eyes as if he could see that I was telling the
truth and that it mattered if I was telling the truth. He held my paper in his
fingers. But he didn’t speak
because he is a Stag. It is all
slow motion. I’m short
sighted, but he still looked handsome close up and his shirt still looked good. It all took a moment and then I was off,
with Joseph, struck dumb by doing such a bold thing. But there is no excuse, I did it. I was a magpie scurrying off across the
floor after pulling at one of the cat’s tails. I was a musket landing on a cold cooked
sausage. I was a balloon, escaped
from a child’s hand and was floating fast to freedom. I was stamping all over Charlie and his
useless, passionless dismissal of me.
“You naughty, naughty thing, that’s just too, too exciting” and we dribbled
with laughter, our bodies bent, our legs held together, held on tight to each
other and jumped about, everything had changed and we were going to be
bad. “So, does Mr handsome call
you? Or think you’re a hooker?” Oh
God, the thought of him thinking I was a hooker was just too revolting.
We
went to MacDonald’s for something to eat and I was disappointed because they
didn’t have onion rings. I told
Joseph about the time I went to MacDonald’s in New Delhi and a great big rat
ran out from the table in front of us, but we just carried on eating, things
are different there. I have seen
hundreds of people die in India and it’s not shocking there. Nothing’s shocking, that was Perry
Farrell wasn’t it? We eat, we rest,
I kick off my shoes, we put down our bags, we try and work out what language
the two old ladies sitting next to us are speaking and decide it’s Greek. We breathe out heavily, the weariness
and the noise of London streets, we see people, millions of people through the
windows, we eat what we have bought and we go out. A policeman is standing on the steps and
as he sees us come towards the glass door, he very gallantly opens it for us
and we swish
feet from me was a magnificent red stag, just looking at me, just wondering
what I was doing, not frightened, just wondering. He could have spoken to me and he would
have said
“morning! What are you up to?” and
I would have said
“I’m trying to catch a hawk with my home made stick traps” and then he just
walked off. And when I told Charlie
he said “you have to be very careful, they’re rutting at the moment, they can
be really aggressive”
“I know they are, but it was fine. It is always fine.” It was
more than beautiful. ‘I sit here
every day, looking at the sky, ever wondering why, I dream my dreams away and
I’m living for today in my mind’s eye’.
Joseph
saw blue shirt man still looking at me as I still saw the stag and he spun
around, 1000 miles an hour, “give him your number” his face is in my face, his
eyes are wide and wild and his mouth is open, jester-style, his hands on my
shoulders “NO!” I have stopped in my tracks, one step, two steps, third step
too short and my foot behind kicks the one in front “yes”
“no” and I try to look away, but he jerks me back
“yes, summer of sin. Remember?”
“Oh my God” I laughed, excited by
doing something so unlike me, got my biro out of my swiss army knife, rummaged
through torches, cigars, paper and baby oil, sex toys and rubbish in my handbag
and I wrote my mobile number down on the inside of a cigar box. I walked over to him as he watched me
and handed the paper to him and he put out his hand and took it, and then,
because I am a human, I spoke “I’m sure this is a really dreadful thing to do,
and I’ve never done anything like it before, but here is my number, I think I’d
really like it if you called me” and I felt my cheeks go hot and knew I would
be blushing. He looked at my face
the whole time, he looked at my eyes as if he could see that I was telling the
truth and that it mattered if I was telling the truth. He held my paper in his
fingers. But he didn’t speak
because he is a Stag. It is all
slow motion. I’m short
sighted, but he still looked handsome close up and his shirt still looked good. It all took a moment and then I was off,
with Joseph, struck dumb by doing such a bold thing. But there is no excuse, I did it. I was a magpie scurrying off across the
floor after pulling at one of the cat’s tails. I was a musket landing on a cold cooked
sausage. I was a balloon, escaped
from a child’s hand and was floating fast to freedom. I was stamping all over Charlie and his
useless, passionless dismissal of me.
“You naughty, naughty thing, that’s just too, too exciting” and we dribbled
with laughter, our bodies bent, our legs held together, held on tight to each
other and jumped about, everything had changed and we were going to be
bad. “So, does Mr handsome call
you? Or think you’re a hooker?” Oh
God, the thought of him thinking I was a hooker was just too revolting.
We
went to MacDonald’s for something to eat and I was disappointed because they
didn’t have onion rings. I told
Joseph about the time I went to MacDonald’s in New Delhi and a great big rat
ran out from the table in front of us, but we just carried on eating, things
are different there. I have seen
hundreds of people die in India and it’s not shocking there. Nothing’s shocking, that was Perry
Farrell wasn’t it? We eat, we rest,
I kick off my shoes, we put down our bags, we try and work out what language
the two old ladies sitting next to us are speaking and decide it’s Greek. We breathe out heavily, the weariness
and the noise of London streets, we see people, millions of people through the
windows, we eat what we have bought and we go out. A policeman is standing on the steps and
as he sees us come towards the glass door, he very gallantly opens it for us
and we swish
Similar Books
