The Writers' Circle

Please feel free to visit my website where this and other poems are listed :  http://markolambo.weebly.com/


Chaper 1 - In the Pursuit Of Happiness 

I know why it started, it was meant to happen, call it fate, call it karma, call it Santa Claus, all the same all I had to do was believe. 

It was June 2008; life at that point had become a soulless groundhog day of hard work, social ambitions, possessions, must go to restaurants and keeping up with everyone including the Jones's.

I was bored and restless, life had lost it sparkle and I was not living anymore just conforming to peoples grey expectations and they all loved me for it. I was with someone out of habit where the passion had long since been extinguished. It had been years since I last really wanted to make love to her.

 We were just about to get into the stage of a relationship where she started buying my underwear.  I started to worry we might end up going out wearing matching jumpers, meeting nice people in matching cagoules, how had it come to this? I was ready to scream.  Helena thought we were just doing fine and loved her social whirl, and this settlement into middle age. I on the other hand was not and did not want this life; I wanted culture, passion the great outdoors, not one-upmanship, faux friends and conformity. I wanted to live life but more importantly share that love of living with someone, I really wanted, a woman whose thoughts and passions transmitted themselves directly into my heart.

 At 42 I decided to start that search, I suppose the first question what was I looking for. It was simple really I just wanted to be happy, fulfilled, loved and for all the right reasons, not habit, companionship or money. I then at that moment vowed to enter into the pursuit of happiness where only loved mattered and it had to be a good old inferno of love. It would start with a tiny spark that leads to lots of small fires until the whole thing erupts and all of Newcastle is alight, anything else could not be love.   

Had I been in love before?   

Hmmm tricky, there had be many relationships, lots of passion but was there ever a one that made me hurt or need so badly that I would do anything for them forsaking all others.  Was there ever a time I knew what they felt when I was hundreds of miles away?

Being honest never!

There was though one girl when I was 15 who I knew nothing about other than she was hauntingly beautiful, raven haired with  hazel eyes. She exuded class and kept me sleepless for months as my first big school boy crush. Agnes Barrington was a friend of a friend and how I wished she was mine.  I had often wondered what became of her. Was it love or just a crush, all I know is she made me feel like electricity when I was near her, a tingle that interrupted all logical brain and bodily functions to such an extent I lost the power of speech.

Unfortunately for me though any initial spark never eurupted due to me being a gormless, sallow youth and never having the gumption to just ask her out. When I finally found my tongue and  courage the world had moved on and so had Agnes, with a local shaver who didn't deserve her.

Like the world I also moved on and left school and in the intervening 25 years never felt that way again in any of my three serious relationships since. Hmmm,  there had been a magical two weeks  with Monica, the gorgeous bank assistant from South Shields.  I think though that was pure lust though not love, which died when her husband came out of clink early on account of his good behavior after serving six months for GBH. The only tingle I felt after that was when I applied iodine to my cuts and steak to the bruises.

  After more thought I decided not to look for love. If it was going to happen it would find me. I also knew it was time to move on again and call it a day with Helena all I needed was a push in the right direction.

 So then there you have it, the loose thread that I started to pull and like pulling on all loose threads it sometimes unravels unexpected consequences

Chapter  2

Life is strange, I don't know why it started it just did. I was curious, excited but slightly reticent when that initial email arrived out of the blue from "Chums Reinvited" 

I had to think to place him but it soon came back to me hmm.... Michael Pyle's mate, he used to hang around the square at Hotch Pudding.  He was a sallow, gawky youth who could never bring himself to speak to me.  What does he want. it's been 25 Years since I last seen him.Why is he writing to me?

 A swift double click later and the mail was open.
 
"Hi Agnes, I came across your profile and remember back to at least 25 years ago when I had a crush on this attractive, bright girl called Agnes and never had the guts to ask you out despite having Michael Pyle and Paula Buckle telling me to talk to you and egging me on I never found that courage then.  I laugh now when I think about this and I am sure that it helped me learn to take life by the horns. Now I just do things spontenaously rather than wait as good things quickly get taken and I am sure it is why I am now so successful. I hope life is treating you well."

 She still could not really remember him so needed more detail so reads his profile.  Hmm.. lies by the sound of it  I am sure they all write lies to make themselves  sound more interesting, Consultant, Traveller, Gosforth, BMW I bet he really works for the council as a bin man and lives in a damp ridden flat in Cowgate.

 I never really liked him but he must have changed in all that time, I know I have.

 Agnes now 41 had spent eight years with the love of her life Dean and that had sparked a passion that had created two perfect children, a beautiful house in a desirable village and friends aplenty. To the world outside her window she was one step away from a Hello magazine special feature.

 But beyond the wrapping paper her life had lost its sparkle and had become soulless.  Dean now seen her as an Au-pair for his children, a cleaner and ironer but no longer a woman.  She had been the party girl, butter wouldn't melt and the life and soul of all impromptu shindigs that sprung up around her. He had loved all these things about her when they first met but now took her for granted as though he attained the benchmark of a beautiful woman and now had a framed certificate confirming this.  To Dean what people thought about him was important, life was about ticking boxes and seeking social status and attainment. 

 He now wanted the career boxes ticked and sought out the out the leather elbow patches, Farah trousers and pointer that provide the stripes of a Head Teacher.

Beautiful woman, like flowers, lose their lustre when not nurtured and if not given the attention they deserve they wilt and fall into the water and drift away until they cannot be recovered. Agnes despite many attempts to keep the relationship together could no longer bear this loveless existence and agonised over what to do next. One sodden night she slipped the door latch and with her cheeks streaming with rivers of mascara, she took the kids not knowing where she was heading, only knowing it was the right thing to do.

  Agnes went into the blackness driving around the grim terraces of south shields for an hour until the petrol gauge flashed at her suggesting the car needed feeding. She needed a sign and then ironic golden arches shined in the midnight sky and she knew it was time to stop. The kids, Ally, 8 and Ralph 5 were tired, complaining but cheered up when the happy meal appeared keeping them warm and distracted whilst she bought the time to think.  The place was empty with the exception of a bag lady and a drunk who was arguing with the spotty grease ball serving.
It was quiet and it gave her a chance to regroup and no one would  look for them here. 

"Mary I need a bed for the night she whispered into her mobile, I've left Dean for good  and I am not going back EVER"

Mary was a good friend who Agnes knew from the school gate and now they shared interest into the delights of vodka after Agnes had initiated her to the art of quaffing copious amounts and not feeling like shit the next day.
 
"OK, no need to explain just get yourself here we will sort it out and you'll have made up it by the morning"

"No Mary you don't' understand its over that BASTARD doesn't  know yet what he's lost yet! I cannot stay there any more it not a life it's an existence, I CAN'T GO ON".  Agnes who now resembled Ronald McDonald as damping away the tears resulted in mascara circles framing her beautiful hazel eyes.    
  "Calm down and just get yourself over here, we'll get the kids sorted first and then talk, you need a hug, a large drink but most of all a friend".

At this Agnes jumped ,dropping the phone, in response to a hand resting on her shoulder and turned to see a wizened, old, toothless, bag lady proffering a dirty, grey, cotton handkerchief.

  "Wipe your eyes dear, he's not worth crying over, they all turn out to be bastards just sometimes it takes you 20 years to find out. Look at your lovely children you don't want to let them know that their mammy is upset. You're a pretty girl with all your life ahead of you. Don't descend into despair, look at me, you don't want to be me now do you?"

"Get yourself to the bathroom and put your face back on and get ready to face the world and I'll mind these two for five minutes."

Reluctantly she went into the bathroom and stared deeply into the mirror looking for her soul. She looked a mess, cheeks liked a smacked arse and panda eyed. She grimaced a smile at how ridiculous she looked. A bag lady who normally she would pity was helping her! How low could she go and then in an instant her grief started to subside and her anger seeped through.  Entering the restuarant to muzc "Raindrops keep falling on my head" she hugged the bag lady and then strode out with the kids and headed to Mary's.         
 
  Three years after the departure, when the fear of living alone for the rest of her days had subsided she had begun to get used to the independence of not having to worry about a relationship. Everything came in doubles now, kids, failed relationships and vodka, to which the later seen her through many a souless day.

She had then started to correspond with Martin after that initial email they went from weekly to hourly in the space of a month. Each email was received in an eagerness simalar to that of ripping the first sheet of wrapping paper on a Christmas present .   Each email telling her no more than she already knew, but the compliments flowed and she clung on to them.

She needed to talk to him, hear his voice, feel his passion, interegate him as to his intentions only then could she know whether there was a chance.
  
Hesitently she added her mobile to an email and clicked return with a hammer then gulped a flaggon of vodka. awaiting a response.

She actually enjoyed the routine with kids and the odd night out with the girls. There was always the shadow of Dean and at times he was unreasonable over when he took the kids, but in the main Agnes couldn't care less. No longer his housemaid and he found someone he truly deserved.

She looked out to the window looking for stars in the cosy, neat, terrace looking for an answer to the email.
The window mirrored her reflection looking accusingly at her telling her nothing she didnt already know.  

"Bing" An email popped into the inbox.

A nervous click and she stared fixated at the simple detail.

"Ring me at 2100, mobile 0977456667,   I will be back in my hotel then, out to dinner with a client first ...love Martin Xx.
Ps..it will be loverly to hear your voice again 20 Years is too long."   

The blood started to drain from her flushed face, her breathes grew shorter, six million thoughts clogged her brain cells and she let out a little eeeekkkk. She necked the bottle of vodka and then stood tall looking back towards the scullery window it still offered no answers.  
 
I drink too much, I have no money but I  muddle through.
I dont need a man I have the kids.
I was free at last though and it had ben hard won.
Why am I contemplating talking, dating with a total stranger!
Another gulp of vodka and the thought of someone caring enough excited her whilst at the same time was totally frightening.

Did he just want sex; is he a pervert, a weirdo, boring, fat, bald, and sweaty or even worse a Sunderland supporter.

Why am I even considering this?

What would he think about me, what happens it he doesn't like me, of course he will; I look fine from 10 yards, but what about 18 inches.  I don't have to let him get close. That's it he stays at least 5 yards away from me at all times, that way he will not see my roots, laughter lines or smell the snifter of confidence boosting voddy.

No he will want to get close; oh no I will have to contend with a beauty regime again!

  Agnes started to make a list of all the things she needed to contend with; legs need shaving, nails painting, body moisturising, and must do something with my hair.

  For gods sake I don't need this trouble. But what if he is the one and I didn't take the risk, oh what the fucking hell should I do?

  Agnes stared longingly at the phone, wondering whether to ring him, she had agreed  by text that she would ring at 21:00 but it was now 22:00.
He must be thinking I am a waste of space and will no doubt hate me. With that Agnes took another large gulp of Voddy and started to dial the number.

  Whilst waiting for Agnes to ring Martin could sense her feeling, the tingle, that electricity of her emotions, her nervousness. Welcome back old friend its been a long time since any woman did this to me.

He then started to translate her transmission into a poem.
 
Waiting for the First Call
 
She thinks should I ring?
Do I want to ring?
What will it change?
Will I live in hope?
Will I live to regret?

And still see thinks

And then in an impulse, she snatches the phone and attempts to dial
But the impulse retracted and she retreats,
Minds over heart, mind wins
Remorse, grief, closure
But still a devil in her desire

A need to reach and hope
An impulse, a snatch,  a dial,
A deep breath, a pause and click, it started to ring

One, two, three, why doesn't he answer?
Is he there, does he care?
Four, five, six and finally a breath,

A sign something to hold onto
But too late, nerves give way and click

He is gone

What do I want?
What's best for the kids?
What makes me happy?
Where is all this going?
Who knows?
Who cares?   
This is me, this is my life

 
Passion stirs

Desire returns
Nothing ventured
The dial turns
We have all been foolish
In private, in public
But none of that matters
Only hope of desire drives us

I want this
I want happiness
For gods sake answer the phone

And then a breath

"Hello... Hello...Who is this?"

"It is me, remember? 
Too long ago to remember me really
My looks, my clothes my hair
Are you still there?"

"Yes. but I still remember you"
I know all and nothing about you
Are you still the same?
Have you changed?
What do you do?
What do you dream?

I think I know, but would love you to tell me."

22:00 Martin slammed his laptop shut. 

22:03 He sighed and went to bathroom to shave prior to bed having given up. "She aint gonna ring" he murmered

22:05 Then looked at the mirror he saw a stranger looking back at him, what am I doing, why her?   

22:07 His mobile rang.