Distance blurs memories. A small hut in the school playground. Me, alone listening to the rain. Half content in my solitude but fearing/hoping they will come.
Did I believe that I would be collected by the teachers or was it a clever ruze to get the other pupils to go away, leave me to the rain and solitude?
Never part of the collective whole, the herd of boys and girls. I sought the solitary hut but yet was half in love with the clamour of the playground. To belong, to be part of the happy mass. Drawn to the multitude and yet repelled by it. Wanting to belong but knowing the difference, the chasm which separated us.
Where you happy my peers, shouting and playing in the great playground? I played also, pushing the big metal truck. It stopped suddenly, the sharp edge cut my right shin, the scar is with me still. Yes I played but, try as I might was never truly one of you. Did I want to be? Yes, no, perhaps. I am confused, bemused memories play tricks distance befuddles my recollection of the past.
I have just been sitting on my sofa listening to the rain falling. It is a soothing sound and provides a welcome change from the noise of the television which signified the presence of my mum and her partner. It goes without saying that it was wonderful to have my mum stay with me for a week. We ate out often and had a wonderful time including a visit to an historic palace. However the sound of the television and the presence of my mum and her partner made it difficult for me to concentrate on my writing. I require solitude and the absence of external distractions such as music while writing and this has been largely lacking for the past week. My two bed room flat is spacious but it is amazing how sound travels. The answer is obvious. I need to win the lottery, buy a large house in the country and retire to my study in the west wing when guests are present and I need to write. I don’t play the lottery so this may be a little difficult so, dear readers please send donations, however large to K Morris, PO box 252, the Bahamas! I can hear pens scratching already as you all rush to right out cheques for significant sums. I’m off now to check out mantions in England’s green and pleasant land. Kevin