Tuesday 27 May 2014

The colours of the year



Hi, have you missed me?

Yes.

Do you need anything?

I want to set everything down, but I don’t know where to begin.

Do you remember that film – “let’s start at the very beginning, it’s a very good place to start, when you learn to read it’s A,B,C, when you learn to sing it’s Do re mi.”

The King and I wasn’t it?

Yeah, maybe, anyway, if it was me I’d open my note book..

Macbook.

….. , what, oh yeah, anyway, I’d open it and pick up my pencil and just start writing – see what comes out.

You sound like those soulmate adverts in the paper = “let’s see what happens.”

That’s all you can ever do.

What do you mean?

Well I heard this story about a man – French I think he is, though that’s probably not important..

“If you’re French, it probably is.

What?

Important to be French.

What are you talking about, it’s nonsense – If you’re French it’s important to be French” – how is that going to help anyone.

It’ll help the French! Specially if they are having an Identity crisis!

The French are ALWAYS having an identity crisis.

That's a cliché – what about this guy?

Yeah – well, he’s French in a French kind of way, and he’s running up mountains.

Running up mountains?

Yeah, he’s decided to run up every mountain, only running. Obviously not all at the same time but he runs up one, carries on with a bit of other life, then runs up another. I guess he runs down again too.

Why?

Well, that’s it – that’s what he does. He runs up mountains. He’s decided that that will be his life – to run up every mountain.

EVERY mountain? In the world?

Well, I don’t remember that, I’m sure you can look him up on the interenet – try ‘French man running up mountains” in google search, but that’s not the point.

So what’s the point?

Well, it’s pointless, but it’s essential.

Sounds stupid to me.

And me, but that’s not the point either, it could be mountains, it could just be anything else you want. 

By the way, he’s had a few problems. He’s been rescued twice already.

What happened?

Well, one time he set off in just his shorts and vest and got stuck in an avalanche, turned blue and had to set off a distress signal. He got rescued by helicopter.

He had a distress signal in his shorts and vest?

Apparently. Maybe there’s a lesson to learn there.

Always carry a distress signal in your underpants?

I’ve seen worse maxims.

Like?

Never eat anything bigger than your head.

No, I think that’s quite useful, if you don’t want to throw up.

Talking about throwing up, you ever eaten tongue?

Tongue?

Yeah tongue, look it’s on the menu.

I make a rule never to eat anything bigger than my head or anything that has licked a menu or spoken verse.

You think cows speak in verse.

Maybe, what do you know? They must be saying something, surely?

I keep telling you! My name’s not Shirley!

Ok, so, what are you having?

Chicken curry.

They don’t do Chicken Curry.

So?

Well you can’t have it can you?

We could go somewhere else.

What, like Monsieur Chicken Curry across the square? This is France – they don’t do Curry.

No they just run up mountains.

What’s got into you today, you’re coming over a bit cynical.

It’s Tess, I saw her again last night.

Ah.

You know her mum lives in the cellar?

In the cellar?

Well, in the basement, downstairs?

In the Garage?

I’m sure it’ comfortable. Anyway, did you know she can’t speak?

Tess?

No stupid, her mum. She can’t write anymore either so she communicates with charades.

Some folk would die for a game of charades, what’s wrong with that?

Come on, you can be a real twat at times, it get’s pretty difficult sometimes.

Like?

Well the other day she seemed to be gesticulating that she needed a plumber, turned out she had lost the kettle.

That’s not so bad.

Yeah, except Tess called the plumber who charged her 500 euro for the intervention.

500! Has she got that much?

She sold a chair and a painting last week so she had a bit of cash, but she was pissed off with her mum.

You still like her don’t you?

Tess?

Yeah.

Yes.

Why?

She made me feel better.

She’s a nurse, that’s her job!

No this was different, she made me feel special.

What happened then?

She stopped caring.

See – a nurse – she kept a professional distance. Move on.

I can’t. I care about her.

What’s the point of caring about someone who’s stopped caring about you?

She has a tough time; she needs someone.

You?

Probably not.

Time to move on then.

I can’t seem to.

Write a poem then, that’ll get her out your system.

You reckon?

Well, a poem or something… start there.


Thanks for calling, are you coming back?

No, got stuff to do places to see. See you next year.

Oh, ok, take care.

Chin up.



No comments: