The fourth part of The Beginning of everything, and therefore (by definition), of the year.

PART FOUR

PART THREE

PART TWO

PART ONE

On a table in the centre of the cabin was a giant wooden sphere. It was as smooth as silk yet on its surface there were ridges and canyons. At first sight, and remember this was by candle light, it was blue but as my eyes accustomed to the dark I could see that there were greens too and as I peered even closer I could see yellows and orange that made me think of the desserts my mum sometimes made.

“They will be the deserts” dog explained catching my eye.

“What is it?” The beauty of the craftsmanship astounded me.

“It’s a world, I’ve been working on it for a while. It’s almost ready, I just can’t get the trees to work,” and he pointed in the corner of the room.

I wasn’t sure what I was looking at – the side of it looked like the skin on Dog’s face and the bottom looked much like his hair, but the top could have been a thousand entangled snakes that were unable to move as they had been solidified.

“It’s beautiful. What is it?” I stammered.

“A tree, I’ve told you three times now, what’s wrong with you?” He could be grumpy sometimes. 

“But it doesn’t work.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“These keep falling off ”. He held up a handful of brightly coloured things that looked like paper, “and they are meant to be green.”

“Why don’t you put it the other way up?” I asked.

He looked at me in astonishment and then the rumble of his laughter once again started to echo from deep inside him.

“Perfect”, he was almost screaming with laughter, “ hold this,” and he handed me a test tube containing a yellow liquid.

He reached behind the wooden sphere and brought a jar of bubbling smoke alongside the test tube.

“Get ready,” he warned, “this is going to make a very big bang.”

Part three of The beginning of everything, and therefore, of the year

PART THREE

PART TWO

PART ONE

It was dark outside and the narrow cobbled streets suddenly seemed a lot narrower. A little scary too, I was glad I wasn’t here on my own.

“I really must do something about the dark, come on, this way, watch out for the step”. The old man swung a leg over the low wall and jumped to the sand below.

I followed and for the first time I noticed a small boat moored to the beach.

“Can you row?”

The water was calm but it was so dark that I though we were moving through liquefied coal.

“Where are we going?”

Dog pointed at a murky light only just visible in the gloom and as we neared I saw some steps leading up to a small cabin.

“It’s the workshop”.

The light was coming from a candle hanging in a jar from the door handle. Dog picked it up and peered at the keyhole and fumbled with the key.

“Yep, we definitely need more light in the firmament, remind me when we get inside.”

But what I saw when we got inside surprised me so totally that most of my memories started from that moment and I forgot everything that had gone before.

Part two of The beginning of everything, and therefore, of the year

PART TWO

(PART ONE)

He took me to a pub down by the river somewhere, at the end of a maze of narrow cobbled streets and before we went in we leant on the wall and looked at the water. The tide was out and the sand that no one in the city notices lay there untouched.

“It needs something to shine on it, a sort of light, then it will glisten. I’ve got an idea, I could do that on the fourth day maybe”, he said and we went inside.

I had a lime cordial, he had whisky and as he drank it I wondered how old he was. His skin looked as if it would grace a rhinoceros, deep lines were etched into it around his startling eyes and his shock of white straggling hair looked like a plant that had taken root in a rock.

“How old are you?” I asked.

“Old enough, how old are you?”

“Young enough.”

He laughed. The sound started somewhere deep inside him and rolled out like thunder, people at the bar turned to look and one man came over and sat down.

“Who’s this?” the stranger asked.

“Don’t know his name” replied Dog, “but he’s ok.”

The stranger raised his glass, “Cheers”. It looked like he was drinking wine, but then again it might have been water.

“What do they call you Dog “, I asked.

“It’s my name”

“No it ain’t”, contradicted the stranger, “ask him what his real name is”.

“What’s your real name”?

“God, but I changed it, it seemed pretentious”.

“Why? I think it sounds quite good. Unusual though, I’ve never heard it before – where’s it from?”

We chatted like this for a while and then the stranger said – “Here’s the key, the model’s finished, you can have a look but lock up after you leave” – and with that he got up and left.

“Who was that?” I asked.

“He’s a carpenter. We’re related. Let’s go and see what it looks like.”

The beginning of everything, and therefore, of the year

PART ONE

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.

Well, no …………… not actually – it was Dog.

You see, he used to be a sailor – that’s why his son was on the boat with Peter that time, you know, when he walked on the water. Walked on the water ! Ha ! Don’t make me laugh, there were rocks, just below the surface like when Dynamo walked on the Thames – here you can see it on Youtube.

Anyways he was a sailor and as old as the seas themselves when he decided to have a go at creating a world. A lot of folk thought he was mad, you should have heard them down the pub.

« Here he comes, Old Sea Dog, what you been up to then? been cre-at–ing again have we ? »

« Fuck off »

« Oooh, touchy eh ? Having problems? »

« Yeah, I can’t get the trees right, what do you care? »

« Trees ? »

« Yeah, big things that grow out the ground, going to be really useful one day »

« Especially for dogs eh !!? »

I felt sorry for the old guy, everyone laughing at him so I went over and asked if I could buy him a drink. He looked up at me and I could see that he was crying. But his eyes! You should have seen them! The left one was blue, and if you looked closely you could see that the colour was constantly changing, ebbing and flowing – it was an ocean I swear.

The other eye was dark, almost black like the night itself but if you stared long enough you would see a flash of red, as if a volcano had suddenly spat fire. He scared some people, but not me.

“Let’s get outta here, go somewhere quiet” he replied.

Final part of something that was posted on another day (july 3rd) of the year.

The Fall of Adam (part 2)
part one here

It seems pretty funny looking back with the hindsight of fatherhood (yes I’m a dad, three kids. Lovely boys but I’m worried about Cain; he’s a bit of a rebel) but at the time people didn’t laugh very much.

“I’m off then granddad”, I called out.

“Suncream?”

“Yep, I’ve eaten it. Can I borrow your Walkman?”

Don’t ask me! At the time I just accepted it. Years later when the family rifts had finally healed I would ask him about it but he never gave me a straight answer.

“On the eighth day, experiment” was all he would say.

“It’s on top of the tele”; he shouted back. He was in the bath and it sounded like he had said teletubbie. I guess it was the bubbles.

My grandadd had good taste in music, some people might have said privileged but I was young and just assumed everyone could listen to artists like Tracy Chapman. As I set off down the garden path I pressed play and drifted off into the sounds of her voice. As I listen again today I realize that this is where some of the details that were set down got confused.

Oh my mama told me

'Cause she say she learned the hard way

I loved Tracy’s voice, and this song particularly. It sent a tingly sensation dancing in my stomach. And i started thinking about my mum, i wondered what she was doing. Her and dad ran a carpentry business in the city, it’s been in the family for ages. They make furniture mostly, chairs and tables but sometimes they get some pretty wild one off orders. The reason i was at Granddads in fact was because some guy had put in an order for a gigantic boat and they needed to work day and night. But that’s another story.

Say she wanna spare the children

She say don't give or sell your soul away

'Cause all that you have is your soul

I looked up at the Mango tree. In the early morning sunshine it seemed to stretch up to the heavens. Sunlight bounced from leaf to leaf and the crown of the tree disappeared into a celestrial haze. I started to climb.

So don't be tempted by the shiny apple

Don't you eat of a bitter fruit

The mangoes were ripe. In the sunshine they not only shone they pulsated. Good that my Granddads porrige was, there was always room for a bit of fresh mango.

Hunger only for a taste of justice

Hunger only for a world of truth

'Cause all that you have is your soul

But i would wait until i had finished climbing.

Half way up the tree is the place where i sit. It’s not at the bottom, it’s not at the top  but it’s perfect. It didn’t feel like i was in the garden anymore and although i didn’t feel like i was in the town either, i could see the houses on the other side of the wall. Smoke was still rising from the chimneys of some where the breakfast fires had not finished their work. I could see the watchtowers on the hill beyond and dust was rising up from the track that lead out to the oasis ; people were  probably fetching water.

Just above my head there was a mango, THE mango i should perhaps say. The skin looked as if someone had polished it that morning with fresh dew, it was the orange of a mid summer sunset and it was the red of a mid winter rose. When i plucked it it felt heavy in my hand, swollen with juice and i tosse dit up to watch it turn in the sunlight. It seemed to hang in the air as if it was levitating. That’s when i saw Steevie for the first time.

Her head appeared at the rim of the wall and i caught the mango in one hand and stared instead at her. She had long fair hair that the morning breeze had ruffled and as she was sweating lightly from her climb some of it was stuck to her cheek. Her eyes were blue, i could see that clearly from where i was sitting but she hadn’t seen me. I held my breath and waited.

Struggling a little she pulled herself up and swung her legs over the top of the wall and sat there catching her breath. Her legs were long, tanned like someone who spends a lot of time in the desert and she was barefoot. She was wearing a goatherder’s tunic, white and freshly washed in the river that week it seemed. The whiteness of the fabric made her tan look golden and there was something about her that i have never forgotten, never will be able to. But it was what happened next that really made me sit up.

Pushing with her hands she moved to jump down into the garden and on any other day

She would have landed softly on her feet, crossed to the mango tree, climbed it as easily as she had the wall and fed until the mango juice dribbled down her neck and stained her tunic. But today was not anyother day, i guess you could say it was the appointed day, for as she jumped her tunic caught on the edge of the wall and with a tearing sound it was ripped from her lithe body. She was about the same age as me – i could tell that from the way her breasts were developing , and like me she now too was naked. Except for her pants, she was wearing pants. Oh, i tried not to stare, but they were cute, almost an afterthought. They looked as if they were made of cotton and they had a delicate fig leaf motiff embroided on the side like a tatoo. That’s when i fell.

I was lucky i had borrowed Granddad’s Walkman, i was lucky he HAD a Walkman, for as i fell the cables tangled in the branches and slowed my fall. If they hadn’t i would probably have died, as it was i just broke a rib.

Steevie can’t have been used to seeing naked people falling out of mango trees i have to confess she acted exemplarily.

“Are you ok?” She asked running over.

“I love you”, I replied and I’m still not sure why that slipped out at that moment, but without hesitating she crouched down and kissed me.

I was still holding the mango and as her lips touched mine, tasting sweater than any mango, my grip tightened until the fruit exploded covering both of us in her heavy scent of passion.

I’m not sure how long we stayed like that – It may have been minutes, it may have been hours. I remember that later they found a dead snake near the wall where Steevie had landed heavily after her tunic ripped – she must have crushed it on impact. And they found the poem that I had etched into the tree with a stone that lay near by, a poem which has grown with the tree and to this day can be clearly read, though the garden is lost and overgrown.

Kiss me on the lips

Make my heart skip a beat

Or two

Hold my hand

And walk towards distant sea

And sand

Sit by my side

Slide

Towards that second kiss

That will make me forget everything that went before

The waves

The sunset

The first kiss.

Unfortunately they also found us, asleep in each others arms, our hair tangled in together in an orgy of mango juice ; they had to cut it to separate us.

« Call me Eve » she whispered as they pulled us apart and covered us in sheets. If a voice can sound like mango scent, her’s did.

 Grandad was angry about way i had carved into the bark of his tree and he was angry that the Walkman was broken .

« They’ll be no replacing that ! » he shouted.

But mostly he was angry because Eve was  the daughter of Eddy N and and he could not forgive her for the pain she caused by defiling his garden with the sadness of Grandma’s leaving.

Anyways, she was a petty theif.

A pretty petty thief in my opinion but just petty in his.

She was lead away, later Granddad dropped all charges because he wanted nothing to do with the painful memories that she had stirred up and my parents were informed whereby they summoned me back to the city again and for the rest of the summer i was made to work on boat construction.

I never saw Eve again, her family moved away that summer and although i wrote i never got a reply. Maybe she never read the letters, maybe Grandma knew that nothing good could come of it, i don’t know.

But i never forgot her.

You don’t forget the first kiss.