Friday 31 January 2014

iOS 7 - A Steve rant.



Remember you can find all of Steve’s Rants here

Johnny ordered two beers and watched the door, he was a little apprehensive, he was not sure he could handle Steve in that happy mood again. Johnny hoped the positive frame of mind would be ephemeral and tonight Steve would be back to his derisive, obdurate self. Johnny still wasn’t sure if he had been dreaming last week while Steve was extolling the virtues of the Proclaimers, it was just so unlike him. But as soon as he saw the door swing open and his friend walk in Johnny realised he needn’t have worried. Steve had a face like a thunder and Johnny knew his grumpy friend was laden with new woes.

‘Have you seen this? Charming thought Johnny, not even a hello. Steve was holding out his iPhone with the screen illuminated for Johnny to look at.
‘It’s an iPhone?’ Johnny said with a smile, Steve shot him a frigid stare that even by his standards Johnny found slightly disconcerting.
‘Oh you’ve finally upgraded to the new operating system. You don’t like it I presume.’
‘Don’t like it,’ said Steve, ‘I hate it, abhor it, it’s awful. It’s like a 7 year old child has scribbled on a page and those meddlesome boffins at Apple have hailed him a genius and copied his design. But actually that's being a bit harsh on seven year olds.’
‘You’ll get used to it.’ Johnny said knowing that that was not the end of the rant.  
‘Yeah so they say, but it’s horrible, it’s so disconcerting and it looks so childish.’
‘It’s not that bad,’ said Johnny 'it’s pretty logical when you get used to it.’
‘I’d love to know who is culpable for this. But we know don’t we, we know that these older phones can handle the new software, so they’ll slow down and we’ll have to buy new one.’
Johnny hadn’t realised it before but this kind of anger Steve reserved only for his conspiracy theories.
‘They’re devious bastards.’ said Steve.  They know exactly what they’re doing. Just a clever way to make us part with our money. And the clever thing is that they’ve manipulated up to make us believe that change is good, that’s really ingenious, so it looks like they are doing us a favour. But change isn’t good, whatever happened to that old maxim, if it ain’t broke don’t fix it?’

Johnny smiled, he could see Steve’s ire was beginning to wane but it was good to have the old zealot friend back.

Thursday 30 January 2014

Scenes from a restaurant




Lisa listened loosely to what William was wittering on about. She listened to intonation more than to words so she could copy the tone with the uh-hers and yeses that she sprinkled his monologue with to signal she was ‘listening’. Boy could he talk, they'd been in the restaurant about 40 minutes and she’d said about 15 words, the rest of the time he'd been motor mouthing on about this, that and the other. This was not how first dates should go. She could put it down to nerves but still you’d think the man might take a breath or ask a question or something. She longed to look at her watch but she knew she had only just done so, surely looking again would be too obvious. Lisa wished they could just sit in silence for a few moments but that was impossible.

Maisy just wished he’d say something, anything, just fill the silence with words that would help change the mood, lift the spell of awkwardness. He’d done anything but talk to her. He’d taken ages digesting the menu, reading it like a good book, then he’d gone to the toilet, played with his phone and stared at the people on the next table. The food would come soon, meaning they could eat and she’d feel slightly less uncomfortable for a few moments until the plates would be cleared away and the silence would descend. They used to talk, all the time back in the days before the words dried up. Maisy couldnt remember when it had happened but she’d woken up one morning and realised she had nothing left to say, nothing. He'd kept the conversation going for a little while until eventually both of them were like a school book dropped in a puddle, where once were words only  feint outlines remained. Finally the food came and the clank of cutlery filled the silence. Better no words though, than angry words.


‘Do you have to do that?’ Stacey’s voice was full of disgust. Mark’s crime was noisily licking his knife. Why did he do that? It was bad enough him doing it at home but in a nice restaurant? Did the guy have no self-awareness, no shame, or at the very least no respect for her. She knew the answer to that and she didn’t want to think about it. She didn’t use to mind his knife licking, or his sniffing, or the way he mangled a paper napkin to within an inch of its life. She didn’t use to mind that back in the day when she loved him. Well she did mind it, it used to annoy her back then tpp but there were plenty of lovely things to preoccupy her like the way he called her beautiful or the way he stroked her hand across the table. But gradually they had seeped away leaving only the annoying little foibles.

Eleisha was busy with her food, but Ben had stopped eating, his attention had been caught by the passion with which Eleisha had set about her meal. She deconstructed the meal in a way an artist might go about constructing a picture; there was a careful method, a rationale for every move of the knife or lift of the fork. Somehow the process of getting the food to her mouth was like a ballet while she chewed with graceful elegance. He could watch her for hours, imbibe her beauty. She noticed he’d stopped eating and looked at him watching her. ‘What are you doing?’ she asked blushing slightly. He put his hand across the table and took hers. ‘Just thinking how much I love you’ he said. It was the first time he’d said what he’d been thinking. She smiled a smile and said 
I love you too. 


Wednesday 29 January 2014

The Teacher part 2




It’s essentail that for this story to work you have read the previous one. Therefore instead of a link I have inlcuded it here. 
So part 2 is below part 1 
‘I’m all lost in the supermarket’
The words of the Clash song echoed around my mind but I wasn’t Lost in a Supermarket I was lost in Swindon’s outlet centre and I considered that to be markedly worse. The Outlet centre is a huge, soulless sprawl of shops in a converted railway works. Where once trains were lovingly constructed by skilled workers ,now tat was carelessly sold by half-hearted shop assistants. Wannabe middle class punters wandered around looking for bargains on things they didn’t know they needed, with money they didn’t know they had. Maybe it’s harsh to call it soulless, if you listened closely you could hear the ghosts of the former workforce building ghost trains appalled by the tawdry commercialisation of their former factory.  

I wasn’t really lost, I could find the way out if I’d need to, and as soon as the moment came I would be gone like a flash, I was more lost in the brain, lost in life. How on earth had I ended up here, sweeping the floors and cleaning the loos in this monstrosity of shopping mall?
Just 8 months ago I had been the youngest deputy head teacher in Wales. A real success story, the world was my oyster. I’d already turned down two headships, waiting for the right school to come along. On top of that I’d just met Mary who was the girl I’d been waiting for. 
But then, the Police turned up at the school and I was led away in handcuffs in front of the entire staff and all the kids. 
Magda (not her real name)  was a sixteen year old who had developed a crush on me that had turned into a relationship. Luckily the relationship was played out in her fantasy but unluckily for me that didn’t stop her from talking about it to her friends in great detail. One of her friends told her parents, quite understandably they'd phoned the police. 
Suspension pending investigation. It didn’t help that my surname is File, Paedo File cried the headlines as my name and photo was all over the local newspapers and local news. 

The police quickly of course concluded that I had done nothing wrong, Magda told her stories which were full of implausible inconsistencies. I provided alibis and accounted for my movements, the police searched for but couldn’t find and evidence and eventually Magda confessed to making the whole thing up. 
I didn’t hate the police, they were only doing their job, had it been my daughter telling the stories, I would have wanted them to investigate the pervert just as thoroughly. But the press had no right to print my name without one scrap of credible evidence, while my colleagues went for the guilty until proven innocent approach too. 

Once my name was cleared, I was determined to return to school, to ride the punches, resume my career But I found it impossible. It wasn’t that I couldn’t forgive the colleagues who had cast the first stones and it wasn’t that I couldn’t deal with the gossip and innuendo from the kids. It was just that I didn’t trust a soul. I never wanted to be left alone with a student again in case lightening was about to strike twice. I had the yips, I’d lost confidence. the things that had made me a good teacher had deserted me. I no longer command respect.  So I left, walked away from the profession I loved, went to stay with my brother in Didcot and got a job cleaning toilets here so I can pay the mortgage and try to stay sane until my compensation claims come through. 
And Mary? Well, Mary didn’t wait to find out the truth, she didn’t need to, she just believed me from the outset. She is my silver lining. in all this Despite her parents telling her to leave, despite the abuse she got on the street, despite the graffiti on her car she stayed strong. So on my days off from this consumerist hell, I can still find my heaven. 


Hey Teacher leave those kids alone. 
Hi I’m Magda, recognise the name, you probably think of me as the fantasist or the liar or the stupid girl. Of course Magda’s not my real name but at least he had the good grace to change the name but he didn’t do anything else to protect  me  and didn’t exactly paint me as innocent either. Well, as he’s chosen a name that brings to mind a eastern European whore let me choose a name that’s loaded for him. Yeah let’s call him Jimmy. Oh by the way his real name isn’t File, he made that up to attract more sympathy.

Of course you believed him didn’t you, look at him in his suit and his glasses and with his lovely girlfriend, of course he was going to sound more what’s the word, convincing. Who was going to believe a stupid little girl in school uniform?

The police made me feel like the one who did somethng wrong, they took one look at my big eyes and even bigger tits and decided that I was begging for it.  Have you ever been in an interview room with two male coppers asking you question after question? It’s intimidating, there was no victim support officer, they didn’t see me as a victim you see. So they threw all these questions at me, I tried to  answer but, they were confusing me and I was scared. In the end it was easier for me to say I made it all up. That is what they kept saying to me. ‘You made it up didn’t you?’ In the end it was easier just to say yes.

I bet they weren’t like that with Jimmy, I bet they made him a cup of tea and let him have his lawyer, I bet they were looking for things to believe not for lies and mix ups.

Well the police didn’t listen to me, but I hope you will. How do relationships between teachers and their students develop? I bet you think it’s the student that develops a crush and comes on to the teacher don’t you. But this was the other way around. He came on to me. He used to walk around the class and put his creepy hands on students’ shoulders when he wanted them to speak. His hands would always linger a little longer on mine, and his thumb dug into my back, in a spot that made mementarily go momentarily dizzy. I joked with my friends that he was creepy hoping they’d tell me he was doing the same to them but either he wasn’t or they were keeping mum.
Then one day he asked me to stay behind after class. After all the others had gone he put his hands on my face and pull me in to kiss me, forcing his tongue into my mouth. I pushed him away, I couldn’t believe it. He was cute, all the girls fancied him, we’d talked about shagging him but it was teenage dreams. This was wrong, horribly wrong, he was my teacher, he shouldn’t have been kissing me.
‘Oh come on, you know you want it.’ he said in a voice that made me feel like spewing. ‘And your grades definitely want it.’ If I already felt sick, these latest words made me want to double vom.
So it started, after lessons I’d stay behind and let him kiss me and touch me. Then it was after school, him taking me for little ‘drives’.
My friends noticed I was quieter than usual, my mum would ask if everything was okay. I told them I was worried about my exams, trying to concentrate on them. But when he suggested getting a hotel room that was when I had to tell someone. Up until then what we had done could only be described as heavy petting, but a hotel room was escalating things. Fuck my grades, I wasn’t going to let that creep fuck me. So I told my friend Jemma, who told her mum, who called the police. The rest you know.
In sex ed lessons they tell you to speak out if you are a victim of sexual abuse, in teen magazines they say the same. But the reality is that people will believe who they want to believe.






Monday 27 January 2014

The Teacher



‘I’m all lost in the supermarket’
The words of the Clash song echoed around my mind but I wasn’t Lost in a Supermarket I was lost in Swindon’s outlet centre and I considered that to be markedly worse. The Outlet centre is a huge, soulless sprawl of shops in a converted railway works. Where once trains were lovingly constructed by skilled workers, now tat was carelessly sold by half-hearted shop assistants. Wannabe middle class punters wandered around looking for bargains on things they didn’t know they needed, with money they didn’t know they had. Maybe it’s harsh to call it soulless, if you listened closely you could hear the ghosts of the former workforce building ghost trains appalled by the tawdry commercialisation of their former factory.  

I wasn’t really lost, I could find the way out if I’d need to, and as soon as the moment came I would be gone like a flash, I was more lost in the brain, lost in life. How on earth had I ended up here, sweeping the floors and cleaning the loos in this monstrosity of shopping mall?
Just 8 months ago I had been the youngest deputy head teacher in Wales. A real success story, the world was my oyster. I’d already turned down two headships, waiting for the right school to come along. On top of that I’d just met Mary who was the girl I’d been waiting for. 
But then, the Police turned up at the school and I was led away in handcuffs in front of the entire staff and all the kids. 
Magda (not her real name)  was a sixteen year old who had developed a crush on me that had turned into a relationship. Luckily the relationship was played out in her fantasy but unluckily for me that didn’t stop her from talking about it to her friends in great detail. One of her friends told her parents, quite understandably they'd phoned the police. 
Suspension pending investigation. It didn’t help that my surname is File, Paedo File cried the headlines as my name and photo was all over the local newspapers and local news. 

The police quickly of course concluded that I had done nothing wrong. Magda told her stories which were full of implausible inconsistencies. I provided alibis and accounted for my movements, the police searched for but couldn’t find and evidence and eventually Magda confessed to making the whole thing up. 
I didn’t hate the police, they were only doing their job, had it been my daughter telling the stories, I would have wanted them to investigate the pervert just as thoroughly. But the press had no right to print my name without one scrap of credible evidence, while my colleagues went for the guilty until proven innocent approach too. 

Once my name was cleared, I was determined to return to school, to ride the punches, resume my career But I found it impossible. It wasn’t that I couldn’t forgive the colleagues who had cast the first stones and it wasn’t that I couldn’t deal with the gossip and innuendo from the kids. It was just that I didn’t trust a soul. I never wanted to be left alone with a student again in case lightening was about to strike twice. I had the yips, I’d lost confidence, the things that had made me a good teacher had deserted me; I no longer command respect.  So I left, walked away from the profession I loved, went to stay with my brother in Didcot and got a job cleaning toilets here so I can pay the mortgage and try to stay sane until my compensation claims come through. 
And Mary? Well, Mary didn’t wait to find out the truth, she didn’t need to, she just believed me from the outset. She is my silver lining. in all this. Despite her parents telling her to leave, despite the abuse she got on the street, despite the graffiti on her car, she stayed strong. So on my days off from this consumerist hell, I can still find my heaven. 


Maggies Milkman A teaser

This is the proposed cover of Maggie’s Milkman, a novel by me. It will be on sale electronically sometime in February. 

This cover was designed by VInce Cornwell and edited by Jeremy Taylor. 

Friday 24 January 2014

500 Miles - A Steve Rant




If you are new to the blog and haven’t come across Steve before it might be useful to catch up with him. Get a taster here

‘Well I could walk 500 miles and I could walk 500 more.’ Steve sang along with the song, it was impossible not too.
‘I like this song,’ he said to Johnny who was also singing along. Johnny nodded his agreement.
‘To fall down at your door’ they both finished the song with perfect timing, if not perfect pitch. 
‘Good band the Proclaimers,’ said Steve, really underrated I think. Catchy tunes, nice lyrics, good harmonies. Yeah, good band.’
Johnny rattled a finger around in his ear, did Steve really just say he liked the Proclaimers? It wasn't that Johnny disagreed, it was just that Johnny couldn't believe his mate was being positive about something. 
‘Also, the weird thing about the Proclaimers is that we laughed at them when they came out, do you remember?’ Steve continued. ‘I mean they just looked so spoddy, didn’t they? With those big, rimmed glasses, the slicked back hair and carrot jeans, but look.' Steve pointed at the young barman who was dressed in carrot jeans, was wearing big, rimmed glasses and had slicked back hair. 'They were ahead of their time, they've gone from being clean cut mummy's boys to being trendsetting, fashionistas.’
Johnny had to admit his friend had a point, the 'Proclaimer' look was very much in, but he was still shocked that Steve was being so upbeat, surely there was a big BUT coming soon. But there wasn’t, Steve continued in this alien, positive vein.
‘and then there’s the line, how does it go?’ Steve half mumbled and half hummed a line from the song until he got to the point. ‘when the money comes in for the work I do I’ll pass almost every penny on to you.’ Steve sat back and smiled as if just saying the words made the point. It didn’t.
‘And?’ Johnny said.

‘Well, isn’t it obvious, most people would say every penny but the Proclaimers, it’s almost every penny they just hold a little back for themselves for fags and booze.  It’s lovely.’  Johnny couldn't handle this positivity, what was going on? He decided to go to the bar hoping the break in conversation would bring the real Steve back.