Got To Be Good-looking ('cause he's so hard to see)

~28~

Clare

I gathered up an old orange blanket that had seen better days.

I found it in the bottom of the linen cupboard then proceeded to open it wide, laying it on the table and went about dropping various items in the centre.

Some marshmallows, a few teeny weeny bottles of goodness from the flight, my brown leather bound journal and pen, the little transistor radio from the terrace and a container with the dinner I made.

Vegetable curry, it will probably give me wind but who cares.

Tapping my pockets, I checked for smokes and matches and finally I made my way to the beach with my cargo.

Folding the hems of my jeans I paddled as I scanned the area for drift wood for a fire. The sea was cold like a fridge, this was Scotland after all. Spotting some firewood I shivered as I lugged the dry timber and took possession of a spot already equipped with a hotplate, a well for the fire and some huge logs for seating and/or dragging into the fire, I guess.

Darkness descended rapidly here, taking the vibrant colours away and replacing them with blacks, greys, silvers and now bright orange and red. The fire burnt hot, too hot and occasional sparks flew skyward. A big pop sounded at one stage the build up and release the gases, which of course, made me jump.

I turned so the fire was my lantern and reread the letter I had crammed in the leather lining of the journal. That letter, or should I say lyrical  request, sent by Jeff for made to order songs.

Jeff Lynne was a good friend, he often ran thoughts by me which was extremely flattering for my ego. He and his band ELO was much more diverse in their recording of experimental sounds and technique which made his questioning and requesting of moi, quite nice.

So, when a call out like this was made, and he needed female imput, I was usually his first port of call.

Magic, dreams, mystery, flight, heavens, light and feathery feelings.

'You have to believe' that's the first thing in anything you do.

Believe you can.
Believe you are.

I scribbled random words in a mess of hurried thoughts tossed on the page higgly piggly, an unorganised list of doors to open and explore.

Tapping my lip with the pen, my mind fled away with the breeze that had now decided to visit.

Like leaves scattering in autumn I chased but I could not capture them; The words so elusive, once again.

Arggghh.

I stared unseeing into the fire, the swirl and flow of the flames lifted from blue white through to orange and reds.

The rocky outcrops to the left of the fire were close enough to grab the shadows of both the fire and me. My fingers making a shadow dog, rabbit and the peace sign to which I smiled and spoke to no one in particular "Peace and love, Cass"

Sometimes I wish I could just be.

Be with Cass, and be content, but the worry for her health had me acting more doctor than sister when I stayed any length of time in her presence.

I don't think she was jealous that I lost my weight, I was always slightly smaller than her generous girth but I still lost pounds and pounds as she was putting more on.

I worry for her and her little angel, my niece Owen and never can say the words she needs. I'm not even being a good sister or aunt to them both.

I slammed the journal shut and tossed it on the stack of things to go back up the cliff. One lousy sentence/ lyric/ piece of randomness. Another pop burst of sound echo'd off the cliff face and I jumped higher, cursing the fire while I did so. I grabbed the journal again- one can only hope words will come.