A short story about a woman who is on a tight schedule of working,planning and researching recipes ,shopping,cooking , and cleaning .Alone in the kitchen,she has her favourite snack.
It’s my time,I’m alone in the kitchen and I’m hungry and I can have what I want.
I have been meticulous in planning and cooking calorie controlled,vitamin filled, and well presented meals for my husband and two children.
I religiously go out and buy the best ingredients from local suppliers.I will not online shop,I cook from scratch.I use my phone app if I’m stumped for ideas.Rarely will a bag of crisps or sweets pass my children’s sweet lips.Never mind biscuits that are not home made.
But today, as I say, I’m alone.The children are away with their dad for a long weekend.I can have what I want. I’ve cleaned the house from top to bottom and now it’s me time…
So what do I plump for….Cheese on Toast,made with white pan bread and white cheddar and my trusty bottle of Lea Perrins! I’m in Heaven!
A non-profit,feel good making self-driving vehicle with selected “experts” to give advice on important decisions and to help with any chores around the house that anyone needed help with.
The Help Mobile stopped outside the small ,neatly painted wooden house with the small veranda. The path up to the house had weeds coming up through the paving slabs.
As Raz and Pellow hopped out of the vehicle ,the weeds were the first indication that all was not well.
When,on invitation by the sole occupant of the house;a frail old lady;they entered,they knew immediately what to do.Their job card on their work mobile had been quite specific,a leaking tap,help with chores and finally the path.
When they had finished ,they asked the lady to sign to say all the jobs had been completed to her satisfaction ,which she did with a smile and a nominal gratuity which was agreed on booking and was voluntary. It was what you could afford.
Raz was a lawyer, and Pellow was a plumber. There were all sorts of skills available from The Help Mobile. Anything from Chiropodists to Car Mechanics and Help was so quick in coming.It never took longer than three days for a booking to be completed.
Raz, though , worked with a number of clients and cases over a period of time. Legal issues could take months ,even years. He might visit the same site over a number of weeks or months and would get to know his clients,whereas Pellow tended to make a visit and then move on. His forte was fixing leaks,and once fixed, they rarely happened again.
It was all coordinated from Head Office,probably using an Artificial Intelligence System.
It worked well,even today ,where Raz’s lawyerly “listening skills” had helped with the lady’s concern with a dispute she was having with a neighbour.They chatted about the problem while Raz completed the pile of ironing the lady had struggled with due to her arthritic hands.
Both Raz and Pellow had started as volunteers because they felt it was something valuable to do. They had both been selected as permanent employees due to their flexibility and ability. It was lucrative enough for them to be happy with their life choice.
The Help Mobile helped them also. The Help Mobile took all the boring administration tasks,like payroll and insurance , away from them.
When they used to work for themselves, these mundane tasks would eat into valuable home and leisure time. Now , The Help Mobile allowed them to concentrate on what they were both good at and not work unreasonable hours.It was a win,win situation.
Every day was different. The Help Mobile had established it’s reputation,it was very often the first organisation people would call when they had a problem. There was no shortage of help needed,so the diary was always full.
I was only three years old when my grandfather died.I wasn’t even able to form my letters.
My mother kept my grandfathers bequest safe in her jewellery box until I was eight.
On my eighth birthday she gave me grandad’s golden nib that he had left me in his will.
My mother’s present to me on that special day was an expensive fountain pen and a beautiful inkwell and writing set for me to use.
She showed me how to fit the shiny,beautiful nib to my fountain pen and proudly explained the meaning of the hall marks on the gold nib as well as how to use the ink well and blotting paper.
It was quite a momentous day,and, subsequently, I passed many happy hours forming my letters and writing sentences and paragraphs. Sometimes, I would just copy my favourite children’s books for fun.
When I was about sixteen ,my mother grew increasingly worried about me.My writing and copying habit was so prolific that,yes, she could see I could write beautiful script,but my school work had suffered.
I had fallen behind with maths and science, and as our family were important in the Medical Profession, in the area, and it was hoped I would follow that path.My mother sat me down in the hope that we could address my obsession with using my Golden Nib.
My science marks did not improve.Infact, they got worse ,and my mother was in tears the day that she found out I had failed to get into medical school. I looked at her blankly.
“That bloody pen! You’ve wasted too much time copying, and now,now look where you are!” She screamed at me. I looked at her aghast as she ran out of the living room and upstairs to my bedroom.There she took all my writing equipment and threw it in my bin,brought it downstairs and threw it all in the waste bin outside.
“This has got to stop!” She cried,no more copying script,do something more useful with your life!”
“OK mum”. I said ,defeated and hunched shouldered,I left her and went back upstairs to my room. I sat down on my bed and felt in my pocket for my golden nib. It felt good between my fingers.
“It’s alright, Grandad ,phase two,no more copying,but I am going to write some very beautiful books.Thanks Grandad”.
My mission is to write short stories.So inspired by David Cornwell and Robert Buchan here is my original short story .”What is your mission?”
“Albert”,he hated that name, D only used it when he was drilling him down. Now “Albie”he liked, Francesca called him “Albie”. Particularly when they were in the throes of consumating their thriving relationship.
They’d been seeing each other for more than 2 years and neither of them could imagine being without the other. They were passionate people but also aware of their situation.
Albie worked for the UK Government and often disappeared for days,sometimes weeks on end.
Francesca initially found it rather exciting,but recently, the novelty had worn off. She,too,worked for the government. Nothing glamorous,nothing that meant foreign travel or anything.
She never spoke to Albie about his “business trips”, as, he had made it quite clear to her right from the beginning that there were reasons that he couldn’t discuss his movements.
Albie loved Francesca;and while he listened to D droning on about the situation in Saudi Arabia and how we had lost several valuable agents,and that D had his suspicions about a mole in the organisation. Albie found himself daydreaming about Francesca.Albert wanted to say.
“Get to the point D,what you are telling me is history.What do you want to do,blame me?”
However,he remained silent and inattentive. His interest was piqued when there was a knock on the door,and Elaine McGlellan entered brusquely.
D acknowledged Elaine,though she hadn’t given him a chance to ask her to enter the room.Unceromoniously, she plonked herself on the chair next to Albert and placed the package of brown folders she was carrying on her lap.
“Thank you for coming Elaine”.
“No problem ,Sir.I’ve just confirmed who our mole is, and I believe Albert here can get her to surface.”
D laughed .” Get her to surface ,Elaine! Is that what you call it? There you go ,Albert,and you thought I’d brought you in here for a drilling down about the events in Saudi. Well, no, we know it wasn’t your fault.Those people died because we’ve got a silly little secretary called Joanne who thinks she has met the love of her life, a Saudi Architecture Student and he has persuaded her to pass confidential information to him”.
We need to stop her.
“And how do you intend to do that?”
“Well ,Albert.” Albert grimaced,he really didn’t like that name.
“We believe Joanne is planning to leave the UK shortly, and we don’t want that to happen.If she goes ,we’ll never get her back ,we suspect the plan is to elope with her architecture student”.
“Can’t you just shoot her for the traitor she is? ” D was surprised at Albert’s harsh reaction. Albert noticed.
“Look D ,Sajeed was a good friend of mine,if that silly girl caused his death,well an eye for an eye,a tooth for a tooth,that’s what I and the Bible say.”
Elaine said “Well that is one option.It really makes no difference to us.Depends, how you want to play it, Albert?”
“Well, I don’t think it’s worth prolonging the stupid little girl’s existence any longer than is necessary.She’s made her bed and she can bloody lie face down with a bullet in her head in it.”
Elaine grew pale,she hadn’t expected this blood lust from one of the operatives whom she had the up-most respect for.
“That sounds a bit messy, Albert,look I have the girls address,you’re ex Special Forces, you know what you can do to make it look like an accident,drugs or whatever,we’ll cover your back.”
“Yes, I can make it look acceptable to the Met,just another lonely girl,living in a flat.London is such a sad place when you’re alone.”
D smiled “Well I’m glad that’s sorted, so Elaine, I can rely on you now to cover Alberts’ tracks. “
“Of course ,Sir”
“Well, Elaine don’t dilly,dally give the details to Albert here, and he’ll do what is necessary.”
“Look both of you,all I really need is the girl’s address .”. He looked at D and Elaine and sighed.
Albert was already planning his next move after the murder .It would be quick and stealthy, and he could spend the weekend with Francesca, infact maybe they could spend a romantic weekend in Paris,he was up to asking Francesca to marry him.Yeah why not, he pondered?”
Elaine handed him the buff brown folder.
“Thanks”
Albert stood up,folder in hand ,and walked steadfastly out of the room. As he walked along one of the long corridors of the nameless government building , he couldn’t help but have a quick glance at the folder.The sooner he knew Joanne’s address ,the sooner he would be able to arrange a rendezvous with Francesca.
He glanced down at the address and stopped immediately in his tracks.It was Francesca’s flat address. Francesca was Joanne.
What are your thoughts on the concept of living a very long life?
I see life as a beautiful passage.Death also
We are all connected ,some live a long time, and some barely see the light of day before being whisked away.
There is no rhyme or reason for this,we may try and rationalise it , but life and longevity are indeterminable.
Perhaps what is important is the spark of life in whatever form it takes. Either in the very young or in the very old. The genius,the beauty ,the electricity,the neurons,the complex being.
Time represented by longevity is irrelevant. We should laugh at time and celebrate the spark of life.
If I was in a room with a bunch of people I didn’t know and one of them asked me
“What could you do differently?”.
I would not be impressed. I would feel rightly so that they knew nothing about me and had no basis to ask such a question.
The reality is that life is so complex ,and there are so many possible permutations of life choices that to regret or reconsider a choice seems hard on oneself.
“Do differently?” I would reply. Playing for time.
“Nothing really, I think it’s important to be adaptable but also combine that with determination.”
“Really?” My imaginary protagonist would say.
“Yes really” .I would reply,becoming slightly irritated.
“…but you could determinedly go in the wrong direction…” My protaganist smiles.
“Really, possibly,but I would have made the best decision I could with the information I I posessed, there’s nothing wrong with that.”
“No,there’s nothing wrong with that; and if you are adaptable ,you can adjust to any change in circumstances as needs must”
“Yes.”
“Nice to speak to you,I’m just going to check out the buffet.”
“Good idea. I hope you make good choices and find something nice.”
I regard the stranger as they turn and make their way across the room and think.
“My, that was a lucky escape and look for the exit.”
Hola, mis amigos. Yo aprendido español,y quiero saber si es verdad que seis de enero es el dia que se regaló a los niños. Es que un tradiccione todavia?
Me encanto oir de tus.Por favor , me escriba un comment.
If you had a freeway billboard, what would it say?
If I had a freeway billboard, I would obviously be in the United States of America. As we don’t have freeways in Europe.
So ,my billboard would have
“Think Before You Shoot!” In 6 foot high letters.
Even if it got peppered by gun shots over time.It would still be effective in getting people to think about America’s awful gun laws and the message about “thinking”,not reacting is important.
Well hello, and welcome back to what I hope will be the last episode in the hernia series for the rest of my life. I could probably stand to condense what is about to spew out into a couple more posts and if I was hurting for ideas I might have milked this longer. I […]
Do you spend more time thinking about the future or the past? Why?
Interesting question.I have flashbacks about my past,but I don’t have premonitions about my future.
The flashbacks ,though ,are not me thinking,they just happen. They are situations that struck a chord in my brain at a time in the past and just occasionally pop up.I wouldn’t describe them as thinking.
Thinking,I associate with planning.So, is planning about the future? Yes, I suppose it must be.You can’t plan your past.
Anyway ;on a sad note. I don’t feel confident about planning anything . Everything seems so unpredictable and expensive. All I feel I can do is live in the present.
thenotsomightyom 