John Hegley's Influence

I want to be over
the sea, anywhere
not near.
I want to run, have
fun, eat carrots, with good
habits and some
credibility.
I want to be good, for
others, a standard for
lovers, a flagship
for mothers and
sons.
I want to be all
I appear, clear,
pure, sure and certain.
This curtain hides more
than wires,tricks
dark desires.
It's hiding my
face from the sun and
everyone.

I want to run
away
from
me.

Fortune Hunting

Only sad, lost folk who find themselves at a crossroads in life, in need of direction, with no clear control and no method of self-propulsion consult clairvoyants.

So, as Maxine read my palm and cards, I wondered just where she'd send me.

I'm going to have an illness, breast-related that will entail an operation and brush with death. No fear, I'll have a long life after 't it.

A close friend called Mike will have health issues from cigarettes. I have a Mick, non-smoker marathon-runner, but no Mike so I'm not unduly worried.

I'm independent and in control, she reassured me.

My sharp-tongued son will focus. (He's regularly training next to Linford Christie, and winning on the Lunchbox Awards, so I am intrigued exactlywhere his gaze will fall).

I'm having twins. A boy and a girl. Or I could get sterilised.

Someone somewhere is missing me. He seems weaker than me but that is just because I am so strong. He's wounded and feels the not inconsiderable pain more than me. We're actually quite level and the only problem we have is communication. He loves and needs me. He'll be in touch within seven days.

Sorted.

He's Back

At least I think it's him.

I popped home in between Board meetings last night. I was engulfed in a cloud of aftershave as I opened the back door. The toilet seat was up on the downstairs loo. I recognised the kitchen. Crap adorned every erstwhile-shiny surface. There was a stray sock in the middle of the floor and new rugby boots spilling out of the box on the breakfast bar. A pile of bedding sat expectantly in front of the washing machine.

The sofas now resembled a Tracy Emin installation. I nearly tripped over the hold-all at the bottom of the stairs. As I looked up, I could see a bath sheet draped over the banister. A tap dripped.

His bedroom, recently sanitised, straightened, stocked with fresh bedding, sumptuous throws and a fluffy robe ( for visiting comedians) had been ransacked.

I had to be straight out again after the briefest of ablutions so didn't have time to further investigate whether I had developed a particularly nasty Goldilocks infestation or my son truly had landed for the weekend.

Formal Board business over, I came back at lunchtime today. The tenner I'd baited the worktop with had gone along with a packet of noodles, half a loaf of bread and a banana. The sink was full.

As I loaded the washing machine, I sighed. Contented.

He's Gone

The magical cupboards which made food disappear in an instant have ceased to work. The washing machine, consigned to a one-day week, quit. The Bosch replacement hasn't had a proper induction. I might take down all the curtains just to keep it occupied. The fridge barely recognises me. The cleaning products are sick of the sight of me. I'm sick of the sight of my bleary face in the smearless mirror every morning.

Coming home is harrowing. I know exactly what I shall find, and where. There are no discarded trainer trip-hazards, towering sinkfuls of pots, notes begging for money.

It's cold, empty and lonely.

He has emailed.

The first was just a weblink - which took me to a page for Pro-soccer boots - with the loving footnote ' Size 10 please'.

The second, entitled ' Bank Details', contained exactly what it said on the tin together with a list:

Sports kit £300

Gym membership £200

Textbooks £40 each - I'll need about 12

That one came with two kisses. XX

Tonight was a handy link to the page where Sports kit can be purchased.

That got a ' Love You XXX'.

He tried to ring last night. Twice. At 02.14am and again at 02.18. He was out celebrating victory with his new 1st XV mates. He probably wanted me to pick them up from the kebab shop in Uxbridge High Street. I'd like as not have done it had I remembered to charge my phone.

If this is the start of the next Chapter of my life, something interesting better happen soon.