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The Nightmare Sonata I

18 Jan 2004

The rain wet the brick and wood; over years the brick and wood had split and softened, to let water seep through to the furnishings and artifacts of humanity the building had long since stopped being a shelter for. A slew of the downpour burrowed relentlessly into the filth that was once a corner of the carpet, in a draughty room where Luke and Jessica sat, crouched, huddled and hugged together. Each watched the other sleep, taking turns to shake the other out of their inevitable narcoleptic panic. It had been six weeks since the nightmares had come to every person in the world.

We put our trust

1 Jan 2004

George smelled smoke. All the time. It was a neurological condition, he would explain, inflicted upon him during a car accident he was involved in, back in 1999. He was on his way to the wedding of two friends in Wakefield, and pulled into a lay-by to check his route. Bending down to prize the road atlas from under his seat, he was propelled forward by a shunt to his back bumper. Elderly man in rusty Austin Allegro at 15mph, so minor crash had the steering column not presented itself to fontanelle. Concussion, days in hospital, missed wedding but what could you.

Time, gentlemen

19 Dec 2003

Iain and Bear had bought the drinks in. This instantly brought a shower of praise from with Nigel and Jonathan (Jonathan at first resisting the call away from his laptop). Nigel promised it was his turn next, it was his turn next; Jonathan's gratitude dissolved into distraction and he turned back to the screen.

Power

9 Nov 2003

"I promised you exactly five minutes. You wasted ten seconds getting tangled up in the door on the way in to my office, another fifteen with a fawning introduction, and now ten by waiting for me to fill an embarrassing silence that you created. I have my honour and would therefore not normally renege on a promise, but I am currently very tempted indeed to have you cast out of this office for the sake of the reputation of the Club."

In the snow

22 Oct 2003

I don't know if it was my fault or not. I'm not denying that I decided myself what to do, but sometimes you have no other choice. Sometimes your life is like a chess game, and you can position your pieces here, and here, and strike a blow here; at other times it's more like white-water rafting, stuck in the middle of the rapids, not being able to plan the tactics of your opponent - the river, or God, or the Devil, or Death, or the Fates - several moves ahead. Meeting John was a bit like extreme sports for the head and heart.

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