Six words for Sunday – Limbo

Ever feel you are just waiting…?

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Our Turn

24.8.13

The ground is firm but adds power to my feet. My footsteps are airborne and I semi-float towards the wall – alternately leaping, then sliding, trying to keep my balance. I tumble into the pillars which give way under my weight but still I remain upright and swing around the corner ricocheting off the walls of the air-filled castle. It’s dark and I have been looking longingly at those who leap and jump without a care – their bodies supple and their bones more forgiving.

At last they relinquish possession and three of us seize the opportunity to regain our youth. With a mixture of exhilaration and aches and pains, we laugh and groan our way back to solid ground feeling quite pleased at the spirit of dare-devilled-ness that we have exhibited tonight…

An empty seat

An impromptu visit to a local theatre brought an unexpected surprise. The show was marvellous with a fine cast and an excellent script – the reviews said it all but it’s good to make up your own mind. This was the last night of a fortnight’s run and there were just a few seats left; we took two next to a single aisle seat – incidentally not offered to us. As we took our places I wondered at the unoccupied chair next to us; I caught a glimpse of a small brass plate bearing a name and it brought a smile of recognition. I half expected the son to turn up and sit in his father’s seat as he was no longer in this world to do so himself.
The lights went down and still the seat was empty and in this play of death and immortality and matriarchal queens, I wondered if somehow the space was kept for him to still enjoy the entertainment as he had in his lifetime. As I rose, I noticed that my own seat bore the name of his wife who no longer resides over here.
Lady of D14 I hope that you don’t mind that I sat in your place and had your view of the stage but I did appreciate it very much – it was a truly wonderful evening.

A giant leap forward

3.7.13

Sport’s Day today brings back memories of my schooldays. I would usually get awarded the long jump. When I say awarded, I mean lumbered – them not me. Awards didn’t come in to it. Ever. Remember the excruciatingly embarrassing ‘pick your own team’ thing? Well, I would always be the one left until last. I couldn’t really blame them, I wouldn’t have picked me either. The only exception was if one of my friends was picking (and then it would be slightly on the begrudging side).
Always a bit on the scrawny side made me useless on the rufty tufty hockey pitch. I’d volunteer to go wing defence in the hope that the ball would stay down the middle and not come anywhere near me. Not that I could see it. Of course I didn’t wear my glasses, Heaven forbid! They just about went on my nose for the blackboard work and really only then because there was no way that I was sitting at the front. That was for the naughty ones. I was quiet and tried not to be noticed.
Until I got to the Sixth Form – then for my 17th birthday I was bought some contact lenses. Suddenly I could see! People were smiling and being friendly, I smiled back and my life began.

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