I appreciate that this almost spaceless void on the internet has been quietly rocking itself backwards and forwards hoping that at some point in time it will gain relevance, both in my own life, and the aether beyond namely, the outside world, possibly even further afield, after all who am I to ascribe such limitations to this thing. But for now, let’s settle with myself and the world. A world of people I can’t see, whom haven’t uttered so much as a syllable to in the past. I hope that you, the faceless entity that reads this will in someway be entertained, intrigued, captivated perhaps? by whatever it is that happens to have my attention and thoughts drawn to at that particular point in time, it may well just be reflections of interactions within my own life as I, to put it lightly, am creatively disadvantaged.
Silent moments
Silent moments
‘’There has never been a completely silent moment in my life. There were times when people didn’t speak, the air sat warm and still, even birds and insects which used to congregate in our garden had abandoned their trees once or twice and left me and your grandfather working or reading in quiet, but even those times were not completely silent because l had my brain and my thoughts. They rampaged around my head making such a fuss, my head has so much energy, I can tell you that.
I don’t much care for silence, because from what I can see it is a complete lack of life, no movement, no sound and no thought. I love sounds, the first time I visited the city I was amazed. It was so loud, so vibrant and so full of life that when I got outside of the train station which was already nearly the biggest and busiest thing I’d seen, only really out done by the town hall on Christmas, I almost dropped my luggage. I just stood with it all around me. I can remember your grandfather, bless him, turning around and apologising to a very disgruntled looking lady dressed in fur for me stopping dead still right in front of her.
We stayed in a cheap little flat for the few days that we were there. I didn’t like the air. I preferred it back at home with the flowers, the trees and the breeze but there, oh there was so much noise. We couldn’t afford a nice, big place so me and your grandfather stayed in a small flat near to King’s Cross. I didn’t get any sleep for the first few nights because while lying there I used to listen to the trains to come and go while cuddled up in bed. I was a very lucky woman.
We moved back to the country after that. We bought a nice little cottage with a stream and woods at the back because we thought the girls would like to play there. There wasn’t anywhere for children to play in the city, and we thought the country air would do you good. My dear friend Mary found the place for us and it was perfect. We had a nice vegetable patch at the front, and every single day from there I would see my two little girls come running around the corner wanting a hug. Then they’d help me out there and I’d hear about their day while we cooked and waited for Ernest to come back from his job at the post office.
I don’t like our new house, there are too many people living here with us. The garden’s too small and I miss the flowers under the kitchen window. The girls visit me every now and again, they’ve got girls of their own now and one little baby boy. I … I can’t remember his name but he’s a happy little thing with great big eyes that stare up at you from his chair. Ernest says he’ll visit soon, he had to go away. I can’t wait for him to get back, because when he does we can move back into our house in the country. I feel like he’s been gone for years but he said, he’ll see me soon.
Each day I sit in my chair and look out, waiting for him to come see me. There’s a picture of us together on the table. I have to get help walking in the garden now. One of the people we live with helps me. Her name’s Linda, she’s a lovely thing but I don’t know where she goes at night. Another woman helps me to get ready for bed, so I think she’s called … Linda. I have a daughter called … Ernest. We moved to London while you were young. It was so loud! I didn’t like the air. I miss home with flowers and trees … Where’s Ernest? ‘’
This is my bit. 