like a charm and my remaining friends, concerned that I was concerned, tried to alleviate my concerns by telling me that it would all be fine and he’d cool off soon etc, etc. Once they’d started to sympathize with me, it was fairly easy to suggest that Matt had overreacted and then I played my trump card.
“You never know, if Sarah likes it, she might want to bring some friends along to another one…”
The odours produced by Fear and Excitement are remarkably similar. I detected a heady cocktail of both before we all parted company in a flurry of knowing nods and stupid grins. To my friends, I am now the man who could offer them a Passport to Normality. For probably the first time in their adolescent years, they are exposed to the dizzying possibilities offered by Hope.
So why do I feel like such a fraud?
As I take the turning that leads into my road, a flash of silver passes me; Tony’s going out, no doubt to clinch another deal.
IM: Result!
My shields go offline and I realize that I’m exhausted after clinching deals of my own. I need to chill out; I need to paint.
I can hear the bubble of the kettle as I step inside the front door and I can smell the ghost of one of Tony’s cigarettes. And there’s another smell, one from my dim and distant past – a sweet, comforting smell. I amble into the kitchen, unable to help myself.
“What’s cooking?”
Mum turns round from the worktop and indicates a cake cooling on a wire rack.
“Fancy a cup of tea?”
I do, and Mum cuts me a slice of moist, warm cake. She hasn’t baked for what seems like for ever, not since she and Dad were together, I think. I guess she’s happy. For a while, the new house feels like a home: just me, Mum and the smell of cake.
“How was school?”
IM: Shields up, maximum strength.
I mumble something vague and non-committal through a mouthful of tea and cake.
“And…?” There’s that little twinkle again.
“What?” I want her to ask the question, rather than me volunteer the answer.
“How did it go with Sarah?”
My EM responds with the laconic charm of a Bond villain; no blushing or deflating, just a casual lean-back in my chair and a brief pantomime of appraising the day’s events.
“Yeah … pretty good. I spoke to her. She’s coming over with the guys on Friday night.”
Mum smiles and ruffles my hair.
“See? I told you,” she says, grinning and putting her face right up close, like I’m four years old and I’ve just had a go on the slide that I thought was too big for me.
IM: Any minute now, she’ll cap it off by giving you a Kinder Egg.
“Good for you, Archie. You see, I said it was simple.”
I take a last swig of tea and head on up to my Lair, feeling a bit better about things. I don’t know what all the fuss was about; Matt’ll be fine and we’ll all have a good time. And Jason Humphries doesn’t even know where I live.
After dedicating an hour and a half of my life that I won’t get back to Precipitation in the North-East, I finally settle down at my painting desk. Sarah’s witch gets a black wash and then I turn my attention to the gargoyle. Time for the Base Coat.
The Base Coat can, to the uninitiated, feel like a bit of a chore. It’s the first block of colour you apply to your grizzled-looking miniature. But – and it’s a big but – if you choose your Base Coat carefully, it can add a hell of a lot to the finished article. In this case, I’m doing stone. Well aware that stone isn’t just grey, I crank up the laptop and search for some images. Finally, I decide to mix up a grey with a touch of ochre in it. As I start to apply it, using a medium-sized brush, I occasionally change the mix, so that the colour isn’t uniform.
Absent-mindedly, I log in to Facebook and have a quick flick: Beggsy hates homework, Ravi’s put a link up to some YouTube Star Wars mash-up and a little red box tells me I’ve got a Friend Request. I click on it.
IM: OhmyGod!
It’s from Sarah.
Of
“You never know, if Sarah likes it, she might want to bring some friends along to another one…”
The odours produced by Fear and Excitement are remarkably similar. I detected a heady cocktail of both before we all parted company in a flurry of knowing nods and stupid grins. To my friends, I am now the man who could offer them a Passport to Normality. For probably the first time in their adolescent years, they are exposed to the dizzying possibilities offered by Hope.
So why do I feel like such a fraud?
As I take the turning that leads into my road, a flash of silver passes me; Tony’s going out, no doubt to clinch another deal.
IM: Result!
My shields go offline and I realize that I’m exhausted after clinching deals of my own. I need to chill out; I need to paint.
I can hear the bubble of the kettle as I step inside the front door and I can smell the ghost of one of Tony’s cigarettes. And there’s another smell, one from my dim and distant past – a sweet, comforting smell. I amble into the kitchen, unable to help myself.
“What’s cooking?”
Mum turns round from the worktop and indicates a cake cooling on a wire rack.
“Fancy a cup of tea?”
I do, and Mum cuts me a slice of moist, warm cake. She hasn’t baked for what seems like for ever, not since she and Dad were together, I think. I guess she’s happy. For a while, the new house feels like a home: just me, Mum and the smell of cake.
“How was school?”
IM: Shields up, maximum strength.
I mumble something vague and non-committal through a mouthful of tea and cake.
“And…?” There’s that little twinkle again.
“What?” I want her to ask the question, rather than me volunteer the answer.
“How did it go with Sarah?”
My EM responds with the laconic charm of a Bond villain; no blushing or deflating, just a casual lean-back in my chair and a brief pantomime of appraising the day’s events.
“Yeah … pretty good. I spoke to her. She’s coming over with the guys on Friday night.”
Mum smiles and ruffles my hair.
“See? I told you,” she says, grinning and putting her face right up close, like I’m four years old and I’ve just had a go on the slide that I thought was too big for me.
IM: Any minute now, she’ll cap it off by giving you a Kinder Egg.
“Good for you, Archie. You see, I said it was simple.”
I take a last swig of tea and head on up to my Lair, feeling a bit better about things. I don’t know what all the fuss was about; Matt’ll be fine and we’ll all have a good time. And Jason Humphries doesn’t even know where I live.
After dedicating an hour and a half of my life that I won’t get back to Precipitation in the North-East, I finally settle down at my painting desk. Sarah’s witch gets a black wash and then I turn my attention to the gargoyle. Time for the Base Coat.
The Base Coat can, to the uninitiated, feel like a bit of a chore. It’s the first block of colour you apply to your grizzled-looking miniature. But – and it’s a big but – if you choose your Base Coat carefully, it can add a hell of a lot to the finished article. In this case, I’m doing stone. Well aware that stone isn’t just grey, I crank up the laptop and search for some images. Finally, I decide to mix up a grey with a touch of ochre in it. As I start to apply it, using a medium-sized brush, I occasionally change the mix, so that the colour isn’t uniform.
Absent-mindedly, I log in to Facebook and have a quick flick: Beggsy hates homework, Ravi’s put a link up to some YouTube Star Wars mash-up and a little red box tells me I’ve got a Friend Request. I click on it.
IM: OhmyGod!
It’s from Sarah.
Of
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