A forever work in progress

"So how was your date?" "Oh you know." "No, I don't know which is why I asked." "Well…" "Yeah I'm good, thanks for asking but tell me about your date." Mark somehow managed to stop himself short of saying rude and instead chose the politer option of sighing instead.  "Well I was late and when I finally arrived she had a face like…" "Thunder?" "No. Like Michelle Williams. You know from…" "Oh, erm, Manchester by the sea!" "No, actually I was thinking of Dawson's Creek." "Ohhh showing your age a bit there aren't we?" "With a cultural reference that you instantly got." "Touché." "Turtle." "What? Ohhhhh nicely done. So she looked like Michelle Williams? Nice. Beautiful lady." "Oh no she looked nothing like her." "So why did you say it then?" "Because you never let me finish my sentences. I don't kno...

She closed her eyes and let the warmth of the sun wash over her face, inhaled slowly through her nose and listened to the sound of waves crashing against the shore. This wasn't one of the meditation techniques her therapist had taught her that she tried so desperately to use in times of stress and anxiety and failed at constantly. No this was very real and today she was on a date of a different kind. Different location, different type of man and so far everything was going great. The weather was fantastic, the male company was the best she'd kept in months, she genuinely couldn't remember the last time she'd had such a good date and oh, such wonderful smells! How she loved a day out at the coast ever since she was knee high to a grasshopper. Was there anything better than the smell of fish and chips on a beautiful summer's day? Maybe, but right now there wasn't.  “Polo mint dear?” “Don't mind if I do thank you very much,” she replies and sticks her thumb nai...

"Jesus Christ Michael what the fuck happened to your eye?" My younger sister Maria asks me before stepping in to take a closer look and rather unsportingly pokes it with that special kind of love only a sibling can show to another. "OW, What the actual fuck Maria, Why did you have to poke it?" As you might have already guessed compassion isn't one of her strongest points especially when it comes to me anyways. She's not going to volunteer to take a bullet to save my life. To be fair I wouldn't volunteer if the roles were reversed so I guess we're even.  "Try wiping that stupid smile off your face?" "What, you can't take a joke now?" "How the fuck is jamming your finger into my black eye supposed to be funny?" "If you want to be technical Michael I didn't jam it, I poked it and it was pretty funny actually." "Well hah fucking hah." "Don't be lemon Michael, you know it doesn't suit ...

Don't listen to anyone who tries to tell you that you don't want to find yourself on your deathbed regretting the things you wished you'd done. Firstly you're about to be dead and when you are face facts, you're either going in a box in the ground as food for the worms or you're about to go up in flames. Those last thoughts won't mean shit. They're not going anywhere after that so when someone tries to sell you that nonsense, don't buy it. Let's have it right, you'll have lived a life of regrets of all the stupid shit that you did do as much as the stuff you'll have regretted never doing. That my pedigree chum is all part of the rich tapestry that they call life . No matter how rich you are, you can't buy your time again. You can't erase the past either. None of us know our expiry date either. Lying on your death bed is a Victorian fantasy. More likely to be taken out by some bollock faced twat of a teenager behind the wheel of a ...

7.13am and David is sat in a world of his own imagination which is generally where he was at his happiest each day although that would of course depend exactly where his mind wandered off to. En route to the train station this morning he'd had to weave his way through piles of discarded junk food littered in a car park. That despite there being a litter bin in which to place such things a stones throw away from where they now sat and of course the cars or vans they'd arrived and departed in which would make such excellent transit carriers for rubbish if only put to use. From the train window he was looking at the discarded orange leaves that carpeted the bases of trees that had lived much longer than he and putting any potential threat from property developers to one side, should continue to survive long after he had gone. He'd quickly made the link between the trees and the youth of today and was busy imagining what a conversation might be like between the two parties if o...

“I have a theory that a bookshelf tells a woman all she needs to know about a man?” “OK that's an interesting theory I've never heard a single person say ever. So try me.”  “You want to know the theory in full or my analysis of your bookshelf?”  “Why don't I humour you and say both.” “Look if you're not interested just say.”  “OK I'm really not interested.” “Prick.” “Wow and did you get that conclusion just from looking at my bookcase ? I'm guessing having a bookcase pisses on your theory about what's on a man's bookshelf .” “No no you proved my point. See some men have a shelf of toys - the ones that refuse to grow up. Some have trophies. They might as well sit beneath a neon light sign with the words it's all about me.” “Well as we've established I have a bookcase upon which I will hasten to add sit actual books . Not just books, but books that I've read .” “Oh well done you, no free hand job to say well done though.” “Bit rude.” “You...

“Whatever happened to all the characters in this town?” “What you mean like?” “You know all the weirdos about when we were kids. You don't see ‘em anymore do yer?” Nick took a mouthful of his pint and sat back in the chair and pondered the question for a while trying to think back for a memory of anyone he'd have considered a character. Having racked his brains he sat back forward and said to Will “Mate, I'm really struggling here but I can't think of anyone.” “Fucking hell mate you are getting old aren't ya!” “Same age as you though aren't I!” “Oh.” “Yeah! OH!” and they both laughed and took another mouthful of their pints.  “Here's one for yer Nick. What about Mrs Kennedy?” “Oh shit yeah forgot about her like.” “Brain does that with trauma dun it? She did you like a kipper in front of that bird you liked. What were er’name?” “Which one?” “I don't bleeding know do I, it were a different one with you every bloody week kid.” “Anyways what do you mean she ...