I’d entered the winner’s circle: wealth, travel and: ( check,check,check. ) women: mine and any one else’s I could charm. I could walk into any restaurant and they would say, “On us sir” and I would nod, because modesty is part of the package. I was a known speaker, whose financial visions had been aired on television. I had children by more than two women, all of them cherished and nurtured because that’s what civilised people do. My money was my own to spend in my lifetime, but my children could inherit my insights to light their future, and trust in their own abilities.
All, well and good. Pat on the back for the big man, and mine’s a large one. Oh yes, I could ” Hang out” with the crowd and sniff a line of something: drink without regard to safety and spread the word that life’s a party once you find the invitation. Sometimes I might go “missing after action” and wander the streets recalling fragments of my childhood.
I am the product of Manchester parents, a cleaner and a decorator, later divorced. My childhood was scrapped together in those fleeting moments when my father was sober enough to remember he had a home, and my mother was not accepting her compensations from passing strangers. Me and my older sister used to sit up in the attic pretending we had parents, and that somewhere just out of sight, there really was a field of green.
My sister is my only friend: my constancy. She lives a quiet life married to a man of routine and then there is me. I have been that watchful, wild man, who knows more than he should and takes more than is his, because we are all bandits are we not: some braver than others? I walk through a landscape of my own making and leave others to talk of world peace and comfort themselves with new furnishings, until now that is.
Out late at night, and slightly drunk, I met a lady sitting on a step, and of similar mind to mine, staring up at what London street lights allow us to enjoy of the night sky. She looked at me and her face filled with recognition. “Your that famous fucker” she said and I nodded as modestly as drunks can do. Just as I was about to accept her admiration she followed up with “You’re full of shit, and the sad thing is you know it.”
Truth is seldom comfortable and often arrives unexpectedly so I was silent and then I asked her “What her grief was?” and she introduced me to her life. She had been a photographer in Afghanistan, recording the pain and trauma of a besieged population. She had travelled across the Arctic, and sat in deserts in India swapping languages. ” And as for you, ” she said, ” You made money and used it to avoid criticism: the cowards victory. Do something better with yourself.” I offered to help her, of course, because that’s what patrons do, but she just laughed it off and walked into the night. Brave and independent. she was a women who travelled through life without the aid of maps.
The light does not shine on every diamond. Some jewels are wrapped in modesty and never worn for display, but in her anger, born of weariness and contempt, she brought me to a life of context. In her I found another sister.
Nothing like the unveiled eye to bring us to our senses.
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A quick quote from Roger Waters from a song on ‘The Final Cut’ – ‘Ashes and diamonds, Foe and friend, We will all equal in the end’. I like the idea behind this piece, Peter, quite sobering.
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Ah, well you are talking to a committed and even faintly fanatical Pink Floyd fan so any reference to them amongst the comments on my Blog is very welcome, as is your constant and very valued support
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You’ll know the track then. The Final Cut is, in my opinion, a great body of work, although, I fear, somewhat lost on a generation that did not live through Thatcherite Britain. I’m not going to go off on a political rant ,you’ll be pleased to hear!
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Be my guest. I’ve a feeling it would be a rant of a similar colour to mine. Funnily enough, this post was written while listening to Sting’s “If I ever lose my faith in you” which incorporated much of my own thinking.
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I suppose she cut him/you down to size.
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Love this, especially the last paragraph.
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It’s rare that you meet a self-aware fucker.
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To be fair to him, which I agree goes against the grain, he was more “Brought to self awareness than discovered it” Thus the girl is his saviour and the post is about her comments dragging him back from his destructive wilderness.
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Even so, Peter, most people like him are never open enough to be saved. Thus the rare quality I described…
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wide-eyed wake up from this one, peter. fabulous.
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Sadly, it’s women’s destiny in this world to rip the veil of feigned happiness from our faces. And thank goodness for it. How else would we know we are wrong 99 percent of the time?
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Your writing is always so eloquent to me. I especially loved this line “The light does not shine on every diamond. “
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women: mine and any one else’s I could charm***
True.
Peter, I love this. xxx
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“I nodded as modestly as drunks can do” Saw the exact nod in my mind’s eye.Lovely.
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“Brave and independent. she was a women who travelled through life without the aid of maps.”
A lovely line
A great piece
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Timely story for me. 🙂 I’ve several sisters, all unblooded. I’ve one blooded one who loathes the site of me.
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Another fabulous piece Peter and I too love the line about travelling through life without the aid of maps. Just great as always.
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“life’s a party once you find the invitation”. How true!
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