Category Archives: Loneliness

My Friend Jack

When they come for me, tell them that I want to be buried with Jack; right beside him; wrapped around him just as close as I can be.  I will need the comfort that only he could give me.

Jack was always around but I never gave him a second glance. I wasn’t in to that sort of thing. Besides, I had my hands full.

Two teenagers, a dog and a busy husband never really left me with much time of my own.  Before I knew it the kids were gone and I was looking forward to time for myself.  But Life doesn’t always work like that; she had other plans for me.

I was the last to know that Bert, my busy Bert, had been otherwise engaged with Donna, his coach at the tennis club.  He had been busy for the last four years but I had been too busy to see it.

It wasn’t messy; it wasn’t noisy; it wasn’t tear-filled – he just didn’t come home one evening.

Now I had time – and space – and a void.  That’s when I thought of Jack. The first time I sought refuge in Jack was on a dark but cloudless evening.

The moon was my witness.

The fingers of shadows were starting to lengthen and I reached out to Jack. Isn’t it funny how you always remember your first time – even if you don’t want that recollection?

It wasn’t easy at first, getting to know Jack – but the soothing feeling he gave me felt so familiar, like being wrapped in my mother’s arms and rocked to sleep.

So he did – every evening at sunset – just like clockwork.

An hour, sometimes two, of mellowed quiet, cocooned in amber.

Jack didn’t let me think, he didn’t let me feel. There was no pain; no ecstasy; no anguish – just a peace that overtook me; overwhelmed me, as we melted into one.

And slowly I needed Jack more – to begin my day, to rest at noon, to end my day.

To go down the street, there to eat and drink – and to gaze out of the window.

We went far; we stayed near; he never left my side.

Jack gave me so much and asked nought in return.

 

 

Jack Daniels – I love you- xxxxxxx     

Scott of the Antarctic

It was on this day – 29th March 1912 – that Captain Robert Falcon Scott and his men died.

Work had been going on for most of 1911 setting up a base, laying provision depots, doing geological surveys, collecting various specimens and experimenting with their equipment and rations.  It was in September when the group of 16 – mainly support – men set out towards the Pole. Bit by bit the support headed back to base and, on 3rd January 1912, Captain Scott decided who would be with him on the final trek to the Pole.  It was himself, of course plus Edward Wilson, Lawrence Oates, Henry Bowers and Edgar Evans.  14 days later, on 17th January 1912, the team reached the Pole.

There they saw Amundsen’s flag that had been planted there a month earlier.

It’s hard to imagine the overwhelming disappointment the five must have felt.

Captain Scott wrote in there book: “Great God! This is an awful place and terrible enough for us to have laboured to it without the reward of priority.

The return journey started out well, but rations were low and the men lost condition. Evans’ frostbite worsened and he died on 17th February. Oates also suffered frostbite.  This delayed the rest of the party and, on 16th March, he put on his boots for the last time and stepped out into a blizzard saying, “I am just going outside and may be some time.

Scott acknowledged his sacrifice recording that: “We knew that Oates was walking to his death… it was the act of a brave man and an English gentleman.

Scott, Wilson and Bowers continued towards the ‘One Ton’ depot which they knew could save them.  However, an unseasonal blizzard halted them just 11 miles short of their target and, malnourished, frostbitten, weak and trapped inside the tent by the weather, they knew what was coming.

I do not think we can hope for any better things now. We shall stick it out to the end, but we are getting weaker, of course, and the end cannot be far.”

Scott was probably the last of the three to die on 29th March 1912.

Eight months later a search party found the tent and its content of rolls of photographs, meteorological observations, diaries and fossils that had been gathered on the way back from the Pole.

They left the bodies in the tent and buried them under a mound of snow.

Are you coming Friday evening?

On Tuesday morning Ian bumped into Julie at Cyma Tower – the 22 story relict of 1970s modernity that was hell to live in – just as she was leaving.  “Are you coming Friday evening?” she asked in her bright and cheerful ‘Julie’ manner.  She was probably the longest serving member of what had become a great team to work with.  Her enthusiasm and compassion appeared to be boundless – and was most definitely contagious.

“What’s happening on Friday?”

“It’s on the invitation.  It’s a reception at ‘The Bull’s Head’ and most of us are going.  You’ve got to come along.”

“You know I don’t like things like that.  I’ve got better things to do with my time than stand around exchanging pointless conversation with people as they become more and more childish under the influence of whatever they are drinking”.  There was an edge to his voice that made Julie mentally back off.

“Fine”, she said as she shrugged her shoulders.  “Oh, by the way, the lift won’t go above the 19th floor.  An engineer has been called the notice says.   Take care.” 

With that she went on her way while Ian mentally fumed about the lift.  Mrs Peterson had enough difficulty with her claustrophobia in the lift without the added problem of two flights of stairs.  With that he mentally straightened his back and got on with his life.

‘I’ll make her a cup of tea when I get up there,’ he thought, ‘then we’ll look out of the window across the town where she has lived all her life.’  That’s a big plus for her living up here.  She can see for miles and loves talking about her childhood beyond the town centre in the Wellworth area.  From this height it appears to have hardly changed but down at ground level it is a real problem area – but there is no reason to upset her memories with modern-day truths.

A destination is reached

Silence had taken hold in our carriage as we sat in opposite corners of our carriage.

Suddenly the train jerked. It was coming into a station, the first stop on our journey. That jerk of the rails brought me back to reality and I shook myself as a dog does after getting caught in a shower of rain. As the train pulled to a halt the man stood up and reached for my hat and coat from the rack above the seat.

“I believe this is your stop for this journey,” he said as he handed me my things. I automatically stood up and took them. I climbed out of the carriage and for a moment stood on the platform looking back at the story-teller. He smiled at me with a tired smile and spoke as he pulled the door closed.

“Take care of the precious gift of immortality. It is yours now, guard it well.”

The train pulled away from the platform and the man was lost to my sight.

I stood on that platform and watched the train disappear into the distance.

As I stood I slowly realising that I was now immortal, and that my erstwhile travelling companion would soon be no more.

It was in 1867 when I stood on that platform with realisation dawning. Now I, too, am tired of this ever-changing world and want to rest.

I cannot wait for 2067 to arrive. I cannot bear the burden of immortality for two hundred years.  Things now move so much more rapidly than they did when I had the conversation in the train.  I believe that one hundred and fifty years is now the limit a soul can take. I have come to the end, so…

Take care of the gift of immortality for it, now, is yours.

Guard it well.

A visit to Janine’s dad

Hello Mum & Dad

Well, it is five weeks since Janine and Peter went off into the sunset.  Three of us went down to her father’s house today and delivered the letter as Janine asked.
We explained why we had come and who we were and gave him the letter.

He invited us in.  We were a bit reluctant because of how Janine had discribed her step-mother but he assured us that it would be alright – he was alone.

He seemed a bit quiet and we sat down while he read the letter.  He then said quite simply:
‘Gentlemen – you may care to know that my second wife dropped dead, suddenly, just over five weeks ago.  I wanted to tell Janine but unfortunately I did not know where to contact her.  If you hear from her could you tell her this please?’
We left him looking very old and lonely.

We checked the calendar when we got home.  The woman died on the day Peter first saw Janine in hospital!

It’s strange how some things happen isn’t it?
Take care of yourselves

Love

Albert

A disaster befalls us

Dear Mum & Dad

We have a disaster! Janine has been taken ill and we don’t know what is wrong. When we got home yesterday we found her lying on the settee. She was breathing perfectly but seemed to respond to nothing. She seemed to be in a coma of some sort.

We called the Doctor and he got here pretty quickly.  He checked her very thoroughly but could not work out was wrong. As a result they have taken her into intensive care and we have told them to spare no expense in getting her better.

We are all very worried about our Janine – and I’m certainly not being called, or feeling, Happy!

Our major problem now is visiting time. They won’t let the seven of us in together.  At first that caused some agro at the hospital.  No-one would believe that she lived with seven fellers at the flat – and when we told them that we did not know Janine’s home address, or her surname, or anything about her family they got very iffy!

‘Our’ Doctor told them that we were telling the truth and they, a bit grudgingly though, said that it was OK for us to visit Janine – BUT only one at a time.

Well it’s my turn to visit tonight so I’m off.  I’ll keep you up-to-date with how things progress.

Pray for Janine please mum. We’d all be lost without her now.

Love
no longer ‘Happy’, Albert

 

My friend Jack

When they come for me, tell them that I want to be buried with Jack; right beside him; wrapped around him just as close as I can be. I will need the comfort that only he could give me.

Jack was always around but I never gave him a second glance. I wasn’t in to that sort of thing. Besides, I had my hands full.

Two teenagers, a dog and a busy husband never really left me with much time of my own. Before I knew it the kids were gone and I was looking forward to time for myself. But Life doesn’t always work like that; she had other plans for me.

I was the last to know that Bert, my busy Bert, had been otherwise engaged with Donna, his coach at the tennis club. He had been busy for the last four years but I had been too busy to see it.

It wasn’t messy; it wasn’t noisy; it wasn’t tear-filled – he just didn’t come home one evening.

Now I had time – and space – and a void. That’s when I thought of Jack. The first time I sought refuge in Jack was on a dark but cloudless evening.

The moon was my witness.

The fingers of shadows were starting to lengthen and I reached out to Jack. Isn’t it funny how you always remember your first time – even if you don’t want that recollection?

It wasn’t easy at first, getting to know Jack – but the soothing feeling he gave me felt so familiar, like being wrapped in my mother’s arms and rocked to sleep.

So he did – every evening at sunset – just like clockwork.

An hour, sometimes two, of mellowed quiet, cocooned in amber.

Jack didn’t let me think, he didn’t let me feel. There was no pain; no ecstasy; no anguish – just a peace that overtook me; overwhelmed me, as we melted into one.

And slowly I needed Jack more – to begin my day, to rest at noon, to end my day.

To go down the street, there to eat and drink – and to gaze out of the window.

We went far; we stayed near; he never left my side.

Jack gave me so much and asked nought in return.

Jack Daniels – I love you- xxxxxxx