Party
It was my first ever grown up party, the pressure of catering for a grand total of ten people had addled my brain a little and my perception was ever so slightly distorted
I could see people enjoying the food, I could see their lips moving but I couldn’t quite hear what they were talking about. I tried, harder, to take the chat in, so that I could do the same. To my horror I (mis) heard :
‘Will there be a buffet at the next party?’
WHAT? Another party? More to the point ANOTHER BUFFET?
I’d been planning this buffet for a month. I’d carefully sourced the ingredients and components to ensure that the highest standards were achieved. I’d made numerous trips to various stores and supermarkets that morning, ensuring that everything was as fresh as it could have been. I had considered the cheese board in minute detail, the presentation of the food was just as important as the flavors, and one too many cheeses of a similar hue could render the whole course bland. And nothing would disappoint me more than an overlooked cheese board….except for all my guests departing for ANOTHER BUFFET at another party.
I drifted out of the room for the privacy of the kitchen, where I stood, gazing out of the window so that no-one else could see my quivering bottom lip.
No amount of cajoling would convince me to go back into the party. No amount of reasoning or rationality would ratify the emotional hubbub brought on by the pressure of the occasion itself and my confusion about the OTHER BUFFET at the other party. Tears had to be shed for me to regain some clarity and to rejoin the party and shed they were.
Now back to my usual self. We gathered together to play ‘PUB QUIZ’.
Neither team were doing particularly better than the other, the pace was slowed considerably by the quiz master having to do some fairly extensive research to find the answer to each question once it had been asked. My interest in the game wavered slightly and I went to pay a visit. However, once inside the loo, I heard a question that I knew the answer to. I could hear my team uhming and ahhing and potentially loosing a point so I pulled myself together as quickly as I could a ran back in to the party shouting ‘Chekov, Chekov, the answer is Chekov’. My feet, now deliciously soft from the reflexology, were still very slightly slippery. As my oily feet made contact with the nylon carpet the force of my enthusiastic entrance sent my feet sliding out from underneath me and straight up into the air. In slow motion I seemed to hover for a moment, now horizontal, four feet off the ground. The people in the party slowly turned towards me, registering what was happening there was silence and a stillness, their mouths hung open in a mixture of horror and amazement. An anticipatory moment passed… and then I plummeted to the ground.
Monday, 26 March 2007
Thursday, 15 March 2007
Tuesday, 13 March 2007
Epoch
Eventually he managed to pull one of the wooden boards free from its hold. He levered it from the wall and shouted:
‘I’ll be back,’
before he disappeared from sight.
The board found its place against the ancient brickwork with a loud THWACK.
I was alone, outside, in the dimming light.
I held my breath and listened.
My aural abilities were notably improved since I had become ill. I suppose my body was compensating for the loss of the use of my limbs. With my developed sense of hearing I could identify very subtle signs of danger allowing me extra time to take any necessary action. Although what good this would do should I find myself without my companion, subsequently unable to run away, I knew not.
I listened out for the sounds of disturbance. If there were someone, or something else in there, his ambush could well cause a ruckus and he could find himself in trouble.
I knew the chances of finding someone alive in there were slim as we’d checked around the outside of the building before Mike decided to break in. At the first signs of the deluge, someone had taken the time to seal up the windows and doors. Once this building had been well loved and well cared for. Who ever had been responsible for it had made sure it remained undisturbed and water tight and this was the state we’d found it in That aside, coming across living people was rare these days. Even if they’d survived at first the decay in the water would have got to them eventually as it had to me. Either that or one of the animals.
I was fortunate to come across Mike when I did, or rather I was fortunate that he had come across me. Mike had trained with the Army when he was younger, years ago, when the war on Iraq had first started. He’d been shown what to do in the case of nuclear attack. He’d been given antidotes to neutralise the effects of chemical warfare. He’d endured the desert and controlled explosions and being half drowned during survival simulations. Handy skills in the face of an apocalypse.
I saw something move out of the corner of my eye. It was too dark now to see much. There was a noise in one of the trees to my right. A bird probably. I reassured myself. Not really wanting to know any more than that.
Another noise to my right.
My heart began to pound a little.
I knew I had to calm myself down. Mike had told me that the best thing to do was to keep my heart rate as slow and steady as possible to keep the poison from the wounds travelling around my body.
When Mike found a suitable place he was going to treat the wounds but until then I just had to keep still and calm.
Another sound.
As calmly as I could I assessed the situation and possible danger in the close vicinity. The noise was not of something that was fast moving towards me. The noise was not directly by me. It was still some distance away. There was a chance that the thing that was making the noise was not even aware that I was there. The noise was not growling or howling or panting. I was glad of this as I had witnessed a pack of once docile, once domestic dogs tearing a young woman limb for limb when she’d disturbed their den one afternoon. The noise was a delicate noise. The shifting of a leaf, a light leap from one branch to another. There was no sniffing or snorting. More reason to be glad. Pigs had made their way into the suburbs once they’d had their fill of the countryside. In the absence of anyone to bring their swill they ate anything they came across.
I wondered if they’d eat each other eventually.
Another sound. But this time from inside the Church. Clattering metal hitting a stone floor.
Mike spoke.
‘Shit’
My hearing tuned out from the rustles and cracks of the open air and into the sound of Mike emerging from the building.
As he came closer to me I could see that he’d retrieved a large golden crucifix from inside.
‘Look what I found.’
He said.
‘A bit late for that now,’
I replied,
‘God took off a long time ago.’
(Written in response to Christopher Campell's recent exhibition 'Epoch'.)
Eventually he managed to pull one of the wooden boards free from its hold. He levered it from the wall and shouted:
‘I’ll be back,’
before he disappeared from sight.
The board found its place against the ancient brickwork with a loud THWACK.
I was alone, outside, in the dimming light.
I held my breath and listened.
My aural abilities were notably improved since I had become ill. I suppose my body was compensating for the loss of the use of my limbs. With my developed sense of hearing I could identify very subtle signs of danger allowing me extra time to take any necessary action. Although what good this would do should I find myself without my companion, subsequently unable to run away, I knew not.
I listened out for the sounds of disturbance. If there were someone, or something else in there, his ambush could well cause a ruckus and he could find himself in trouble.
I knew the chances of finding someone alive in there were slim as we’d checked around the outside of the building before Mike decided to break in. At the first signs of the deluge, someone had taken the time to seal up the windows and doors. Once this building had been well loved and well cared for. Who ever had been responsible for it had made sure it remained undisturbed and water tight and this was the state we’d found it in That aside, coming across living people was rare these days. Even if they’d survived at first the decay in the water would have got to them eventually as it had to me. Either that or one of the animals.
I was fortunate to come across Mike when I did, or rather I was fortunate that he had come across me. Mike had trained with the Army when he was younger, years ago, when the war on Iraq had first started. He’d been shown what to do in the case of nuclear attack. He’d been given antidotes to neutralise the effects of chemical warfare. He’d endured the desert and controlled explosions and being half drowned during survival simulations. Handy skills in the face of an apocalypse.
I saw something move out of the corner of my eye. It was too dark now to see much. There was a noise in one of the trees to my right. A bird probably. I reassured myself. Not really wanting to know any more than that.
Another noise to my right.
My heart began to pound a little.
I knew I had to calm myself down. Mike had told me that the best thing to do was to keep my heart rate as slow and steady as possible to keep the poison from the wounds travelling around my body.
When Mike found a suitable place he was going to treat the wounds but until then I just had to keep still and calm.
Another sound.
As calmly as I could I assessed the situation and possible danger in the close vicinity. The noise was not of something that was fast moving towards me. The noise was not directly by me. It was still some distance away. There was a chance that the thing that was making the noise was not even aware that I was there. The noise was not growling or howling or panting. I was glad of this as I had witnessed a pack of once docile, once domestic dogs tearing a young woman limb for limb when she’d disturbed their den one afternoon. The noise was a delicate noise. The shifting of a leaf, a light leap from one branch to another. There was no sniffing or snorting. More reason to be glad. Pigs had made their way into the suburbs once they’d had their fill of the countryside. In the absence of anyone to bring their swill they ate anything they came across.
I wondered if they’d eat each other eventually.
Another sound. But this time from inside the Church. Clattering metal hitting a stone floor.
Mike spoke.
‘Shit’
My hearing tuned out from the rustles and cracks of the open air and into the sound of Mike emerging from the building.
As he came closer to me I could see that he’d retrieved a large golden crucifix from inside.
‘Look what I found.’
He said.
‘A bit late for that now,’
I replied,
‘God took off a long time ago.’
(Written in response to Christopher Campell's recent exhibition 'Epoch'.)
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