a little too close...

Well after reading AKH blog regarding the 11th of the November, sacrifices made by the soldiers, granting this freedom we have today and that I've not had to suffer the true horrors of war, but I've been pretty close... and at times so has my dad...

Back when I was younger in the 80's, my father got made redundant and we moved abroad.

It took some time for me to get used to a foreign land, the language (I couldn't understand the TV, but would that bother a kid of 6?), the heat, people and there customs... and the poverty..

But unlike Blighty at the time, danger could just be around the corner, earthquakes were quite regular, dicing with deadly traffic, but slightly more worrying was that the country had a small dangerous faction, they blew up pylons, kidnapped (this was after we left) and killed.

The power cuts became a thing of fun sometimes... mainly because it was barbeque time! My dad had found a grill and we became well prepared. Sometimes we had them while out at the ex-pat cricket club. A familiar BOOM! would be heard in the distance, sometimes it was close enough to see the night light up... then lights out... torches ... and a dark ride home.

My close call came not so long after we'd arrived in the country.

My family had moved into what became our permanent home, in a district not too far from the centre of the city. I'd been enrolled in the school set up by ex-pats and only just started going there. To get to school I was picked up by a woman in a VW camper van, along with about another 10 kids, some older, some the same age... this was my bus, (health and safety would have had a field day).

The start of the day was like many that followed, lessons, break etc etc... but then things took a drastic turn..

GRAB YOUR BAG AND STUFF! and follow the rest of the children onto the playing fields.

Off we rushed to sit in anxious rows, all crossed legged, like a morning meeting...

I had no clue about what to do, I'd only been at the school a short time, barely knew anyone or recognizsed my lift, next thing I knew I was plucked out of the crowd and with our small gang piled onto the VW bus a little earlier than usual... unaware of why.

I did hear later why, but this could have been a rumour, but apparently a bomb had been planted at the school, in the older boys drinking fountain... but like I said I don't know if this was true or not...

But it was a little to close for comfort, I did hear that after we left there was a small spate of European looking people, stuck in a traffic jam hearing a tap on the window, then being taken at gun point from their cars...

So it looks like we came back at the right time...

Chaz.. Chaz where for out thou Chaz...

Forsooth my fine fleshy followers, it is I once more Chaz, the cheerio of contemplation...

An age seem to have past since I last scribed.... indeed the very motion of my being has not been enlightened for such a time...

I did reside at the top of the fire exit stairs, the king of all I see, with my loyal subjects still beside me..

But alas there has been no forth coming solution to the problem of previous... I still weep for my true love... as she lays in Boris-le-eight-legs's web .. how sad the passage of time 'tis!

This fair and young gentle sugarpuff, should mournfully live, trapped in a web of fear...

And I languished in hope of her very return to our humble contingent.....to press her against my bosom once more... as it nearly is 'the season to be jolly'

By blood and virtue, I want to get my desires and holy wishes.. I released the Pistachio Shells of War... armed with the mighty shield of Pantone 721... my warth knew not such a peaceful end...

I wished her bright radiance returned... so I can be comforted.. with every line and trick of her sweet favour.

In her absent, non have took her place, apart from the brief flirtation with the picture of Lady Kelly Brook... my eye has not wander, cept to the place where she rests...

It's a tragedy, tragedy!.... my heart it screams!

The eagerness of the heart, dashed apon the rocks, by the reality of the world!

The fire burned within me no longer quenched by your love...

But we are bound... to be together again in some other time and place...

Our fates have all been sealed... and alas we have suffered the same demise... for we are no longer...

Tis the work possible of a cereal killer, perhaps the Honey Monster or Tony the Tiger, the Dastardley deeds of Snap Crackle and Pop... the Burke and Hare of the crunchy variety..

Alas no... goodbye cruel world.. hello once again my true love....we meet once more

Long Forgotten Messages...

I got this idea from a fellow blogger... AKH

What comes to your mind about messages or names, written inside books or lost notes within records and on their sleeves?.

Messages of hope, congratulations, friendship, the future, pride, but most of all love, scribed in books everywhere, all to strangers who's possessions are now someone else's....

I do wonder whether they were thrown out in the heat of the moment or ended up mistakenly in the charity shop, junk sale or car boot or their owners time on this earth has reached it's natural end...

Now I enjoy finding these lost messages and after learning last night, books do have a shelf life, because the pages are breaking down into acid and will one day turn to dust, so the older the message the better.

But along with these forgot messages, creating their own story within the pages of the book, there be further stories... hidden in the seams.. crib notes and forgotten bookmarks, each personal to the previous owner.

What ever was to hand, used to mark a page.. old tickets, receipts, photos anything that could act as a reminder...

Admitedly that I'm pretty materialistic about things... but in a good way... I see it's value, it's production and it's worth... I treasure it in a way, be it small, be it seemingly worthless to most.

And I do see books as a thing of power and learning, with what they contain and when you see them in numbers...

I treasure old books the most, the effort that went into some of the illustrations, the typesetting which would have been done by hand... everything about them skilled and honed to produce tomes of quality and worth, lasting more than a lifetime...

But each book can contain memories as well.. places they where bought, been and company.

(There was a thing a while back where people left books in the back of Taxi's to venture off with a new owner, until they left it in another Taxi)..

I've a book full of memories.. I've have been reading for a while... a while as in a good 8 years.. (after all it is the Odyssey by Homer), I can recall where I got it, Longridge near Preston and hidden inside it is a receipt from where I use to read it.. a deli in Chorlton, every morning I'd go in, to savour the atmosphere and the company... and more specifically the name Lizzy on the receipt, is another reminder of a old attraction....

So what will happen next to all my books?.. some with messages inside to me... will they pass on to my family and stay with them or will they pass on once more to strangers... and will they care for them in the same manner...

by giving a old tome a new home?