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Authors: John Aberdein
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pen.
– To watch surf? he said
– From the inside, said Lucy.
– To watch surf?
She hadn’t a clue why she’d given the spiel, she’d no wish to defend it.
Half an hour later they were back with three manilla folders, tashed and faded, in a red UCKU bag. UCKU did a range of colours, Cool Lemon, Passion Red, and so on. He’d given Tam the last of his change. Tam didn’t want it. He gave it to him anyway.
– What would you rather? said Lucy. Read or eat? The inner or the outer man?
– Eat, he said, cheese. Cheese is fine, I know you’ve got cheese. Cheese and ham. A sandwich.
– You’re easy put by.
– Then, I think, an early bed.
– Really? said Lucy. I’d hoped—
– Tomorrow’s the 1st of January.
– No, it’s— Oh, yeah, ’68. Absolutely.
– Let’s see what the day brings.
– But I’m off first light to Glasgow till late tomorrow. UbSpec Total voted me to go.
– It might be ramblings, he said. By the time you come back, I might just burn them. What point is there trawling amongst the past, at this stage?
Lucy didn’t reply. She fussed at the window and busied herself. She seemed to take an awful long time to shut a pair of curtains.
april 8
that sweet ignorance, forgetting
Next morning his face was chilly. He snuggled under till he heard the front door click and then got up.
He moved down to the kitchen and poked around. From time to time, the grandfather dinged.
He made a pint of coffee. She had white pint mugs.
He unfolded a slatted blond chair and set it down at the side of the Raeburn. He took the top manilla folder from the plastic bag on the worktop and laid it broadways across the slats. He fetched the coffee and put it on the stove, on the asbestos mat.
He laid his bum to the stove’s heat, as close as he could, and then swayed away. She must have banked it up specially.
He clasped his biceps in opposite palms, and kneaded them with his thumbs.
He repeated the previous bum manoeuvre.
Running out of things to do, he made an excursion to the loo.
Out in the hall, the grandfather dinged.
He lifted the folder, to balance on his lap, so’s he could sit. He reached for a swig of warm coffee. Last moment of freedom; freedom of that sweet ignorance, forgetting. He twisted to check the door was closed. He thought of a different Tam, well-mounted on his night mare Meg – mired to the stirrups indeed – jolting her rider into storm.
There was such a thing as dread of the almost known.
He flopped the first folder open. Withdrew one sheet.
Which was blank, possibly a cover.
It gave him pause for all that.
A second sheet, he drew out. Blank.
A third. Ditto.
A fourth, a fifth—
All the snows of amnesia come again.
of human nature
Alison knew the relationship with Finlay wouldn’t work. What she didn’t know was why she was drawn always to repeat such doomed experiments. It taxed her optimistic view of human nature, to find her own so prone to stupidity. Younger men, why was she drawn to younger men? Sure, they had their famous vigours. But what could you talk about when you took a break from fucking? It was wrong to generalise but, by and large—
They had arranged their second meeting in Ma’s, Ma Cameron’s, and there he was. Sitting in the alcove on the left, in a rugby jersey and red long hair like a Celtic bard.
– Hi, Finlay, luve, she said.
– Hi, hun, he said. Usual?
don’t try to control me
Lucy got back from Edinburgh in mid-evening and found him sprawled on the kitchen floor. He was in a slack form of the recovery position. She could have taken a felt pen and traced his proneness, with the volume of white paper splayed beneath his body.
– This is terrible, she said. You need to build yourself back up. Or you’ll be no use to man or beast.
No comeback. No gay repartee.
– So were they ramblings? she said. Shall we just burn them?
– Very funny.
– Oh, she said, picking one up. They’re not upside down,
– To watch surf? he said
– From the inside, said Lucy.
– To watch surf?
She hadn’t a clue why she’d given the spiel, she’d no wish to defend it.
Half an hour later they were back with three manilla folders, tashed and faded, in a red UCKU bag. UCKU did a range of colours, Cool Lemon, Passion Red, and so on. He’d given Tam the last of his change. Tam didn’t want it. He gave it to him anyway.
– What would you rather? said Lucy. Read or eat? The inner or the outer man?
– Eat, he said, cheese. Cheese is fine, I know you’ve got cheese. Cheese and ham. A sandwich.
– You’re easy put by.
– Then, I think, an early bed.
– Really? said Lucy. I’d hoped—
– Tomorrow’s the 1st of January.
– No, it’s— Oh, yeah, ’68. Absolutely.
– Let’s see what the day brings.
– But I’m off first light to Glasgow till late tomorrow. UbSpec Total voted me to go.
– It might be ramblings, he said. By the time you come back, I might just burn them. What point is there trawling amongst the past, at this stage?
Lucy didn’t reply. She fussed at the window and busied herself. She seemed to take an awful long time to shut a pair of curtains.
april 8
that sweet ignorance, forgetting
Next morning his face was chilly. He snuggled under till he heard the front door click and then got up.
He moved down to the kitchen and poked around. From time to time, the grandfather dinged.
He made a pint of coffee. She had white pint mugs.
He unfolded a slatted blond chair and set it down at the side of the Raeburn. He took the top manilla folder from the plastic bag on the worktop and laid it broadways across the slats. He fetched the coffee and put it on the stove, on the asbestos mat.
He laid his bum to the stove’s heat, as close as he could, and then swayed away. She must have banked it up specially.
He clasped his biceps in opposite palms, and kneaded them with his thumbs.
He repeated the previous bum manoeuvre.
Running out of things to do, he made an excursion to the loo.
Out in the hall, the grandfather dinged.
He lifted the folder, to balance on his lap, so’s he could sit. He reached for a swig of warm coffee. Last moment of freedom; freedom of that sweet ignorance, forgetting. He twisted to check the door was closed. He thought of a different Tam, well-mounted on his night mare Meg – mired to the stirrups indeed – jolting her rider into storm.
There was such a thing as dread of the almost known.
He flopped the first folder open. Withdrew one sheet.
Which was blank, possibly a cover.
It gave him pause for all that.
A second sheet, he drew out. Blank.
A third. Ditto.
A fourth, a fifth—
All the snows of amnesia come again.
of human nature
Alison knew the relationship with Finlay wouldn’t work. What she didn’t know was why she was drawn always to repeat such doomed experiments. It taxed her optimistic view of human nature, to find her own so prone to stupidity. Younger men, why was she drawn to younger men? Sure, they had their famous vigours. But what could you talk about when you took a break from fucking? It was wrong to generalise but, by and large—
They had arranged their second meeting in Ma’s, Ma Cameron’s, and there he was. Sitting in the alcove on the left, in a rugby jersey and red long hair like a Celtic bard.
– Hi, Finlay, luve, she said.
– Hi, hun, he said. Usual?
don’t try to control me
Lucy got back from Edinburgh in mid-evening and found him sprawled on the kitchen floor. He was in a slack form of the recovery position. She could have taken a felt pen and traced his proneness, with the volume of white paper splayed beneath his body.
– This is terrible, she said. You need to build yourself back up. Or you’ll be no use to man or beast.
No comeback. No gay repartee.
– So were they ramblings? she said. Shall we just burn them?
– Very funny.
– Oh, she said, picking one up. They’re not upside down,
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