At their beginning there are three; at their end only one remains.
The first is white, white as a sheet. Some people say she is scared but she doesn't feel that way. She is a virgin - of course -but she is wise in a way that is difficult to believe. She has travelled far, the lines on her face bear testament to her wisdom. Like all virgins she is open to possibility, like all wise women she demands respect. This must be no one-night stand. Ritual is all important, start as we mean to start, continue thus and finish only if the ending is clear.
The second is black, black as this font. Some say he is hard, others see him as soft - it's a matter of perspective after all. But he too has seen all of this before; maybe not this place exactly, nor this time, but another much like her. He will leave his mark and she will whisper his name. H.B.
The third, the tale, their tale, is old; their tale is brand new.
It's a tale of love retold.
The two meet - hesitant at first, nervous, unsure if this time is the right time.
The second time they meet, something is different; a confidence exists where only fear lay before.
And then that confidence becomes strength, fear is only the price they have to be prepared to pay.
Flight i sonly possible if you are prepared to fall, love is only possible if you accept loss.
They are both prepared to loose, so they love. She whispers his name again, he whispers hers. Blanche.
He tells her he loves her, she promises the same and together they grow old together. Their world has no limit anymore. One day it seems as if they have always been there, like words on a page.
Right now – August – we’re doing a sort of
summer playlist called, as it should be – Some Are/Some Aren’t.
This in itself is a reference back to an ad
campaign run by Guinness back in the olden days (before the internet remembers).
Summer Pints/Some Aren’t.
The idea of these posts, originally, was to
have an inspirational break and just post a series of tuneful ditties, and
suggest that the Editorial staff here at Bitsnbobs had gone on holiday.
An ‘inspirational break’ here means a
creative recharge of batteries slightly drained.
Like all initiatives – good or bad – on
these pages(yes there are other pages),
the idea was half boiled and the Editorial Staff have remained at their posts
slaving away - whilst the rest of the world holidays (more or less) – adding
text to sound.
Hopefully, the eyes and ears get to be
And guess what!?
Apparently – according to one of our
fiercest critics in the comments – the much aligned (and we say that
deliberately without an M) Editorial Staff succeeded in this aim, Wednesday
Ok, one success in several years of
slogging and blogging away is not excessively celebratory but….
What the hell!
We were so surprised we took a holiday a couple of days!
Edward is a gardener, he plants things and watches them grow. He likes that. But that's it. You can plant flowers, pick fruit, mow the
lawn and even trim the hedges but it will only ever make you a gardener.
Never will it help you understand the ways
of the human heart.
But don’t worry, a heart surgeon will fare
no better when it comes to love.
Technique, you see, is only technique and
when it comes to matters of passion technique can only take you so far.
What is needed to succeed is artistry.
The museum is an art museum, the exhibit s
Edward is standing in front of a display of
the master’s ceramic plates.
Edward is impressed.
He admires the variation.
He hasn’t seen the umbrella yet.
The umbrella is in the corner of the room
on the opposite side from the plates and he will only see it when he turns.
The plates are colourful; the umbrella is
It look’s like a man’s umbrella; it is
Jemma is in the Ladies.
She is crying.
For the moment she has forgotten about her
She remembers this morning when the rain
was falling and everything else was still ok.
She remembers the text she received as she
was passing the steps of the museum.
She remembers the pain it caused and her
first tears that fell among the grey puddles.
She had run into the museum, it seemed a
good place to cry and she knew the toilets would provide paper to drown her
Now she is leaving the cubicle where she
had taken refuge, and she considers her make up in the mirror.
She does her best to fix it.
Then she reaches for her umbrella that she
expects to find next to her, but of course it is not there.
Edward turns now and sees the umbrella for
the first time. For a moment he is confused, mistaking it for an exhibit; perhaps
it is part of Pablo’s Blue Period.
He walks towards it.
Jemma leaves the toilet, remembering that
she had left the umbrella in between Girl Before The Mirror and Reading The
Letter, She knows something about art.
They meet by the umbrella and look at each
Edward notes that Jemma’s eyes are blue,