A Writer of Sorts
I’m looking back at the diary and I’m annoyed that there is a two week gap. I didn’t write it just for something to do, although that was part of it, but it also logged ideas for the coming weeks. I know I’ve had – sorry – we’ve had some great ideas, but I don’t always remember them. I’m not going to make that mistake again.
The only thing I do remember is that They have become extremely aggressive. We can hear them slamming against the window in the greenhouse and also against roofs. The top of the Bedford was dented overnight and I’m beginning to think we need to work on the gym/garage as soon as is possible.
The new animal house works fine. The goats and chickens didn’t take long to adjust and seem to be happier. Spiggy is adjusting very well. After the initial wobble, he settled in to the day to day running of the school well and I have to admit that I initially felt a little jealousy that he took to is so well, when I struggled for years with both the transition and the lifestyle.
“Spiggy adapts,” Mook shrugged, “It’s what he does best. It not always without incident, but . . .”
Despite spending a lot more time with Spiggy, I think I know Mook much better. Both are quite straight forward people with little in the way of duplicity (unless I’m savagely misinterpreting them!). Mook is much more analytical. Spiggy . . . I just don’t know. Mook tried to explain him to me and got as tied up as I was.
“He’s a one off. Very intelligent but so uncertain of himself. I think that’s his parents doing. He never really got over theirs deaths and his abandonment. He constantly seeks approval and when people show an interest in him, he can be pretty intense.”
“You two seem so . . .”
“Yeah, people often thought we were a couple and I’ll be honest, we even considered it at one point but . . . Spiggy likes tits.”
“And you . . .”
Mook’s face flickered with a brief, sad smile.
“I’m not sure I like anything. I mean, I like people but . . .”
“You’ve just not met the right one?” I suggested.
“No, it’s not that. It’s just . . . I have no real interest. I love my friends and that’s enough. I sometime sleep with friends, but it’s just . . . sleeping. I like the closeness. My apologies, but I think that’s where Spiggy got it from.”
I laughed and admitted that it was strange at first, but I got what he meant about the comforting nature. I’ve been alone so long that this comfort is better than a thousand self induced orgasms.
Mook chuckled and said,
“Well it’s quite primal thing. A lot of animals sleep with their tribe. It’s safety, comfort and warmth. And we are just animals after all.”
“So what about you?”
“Yes,” he said, “Spiggy likes women, I’m ambivalent . . . what about you?”
I sighed. “I was married when I got here. School sweetheart. All terribly ‘Hallmark’” I said.
“Man or woman?” he asked.
Startled, I said “Woman of course!”
“There’s no ‘of course’ these days,” he chuckled, “Same sex couples can marry now.” He looked for my reaction.
“The equality of misery. I like it.” The bitterness shone through and Mook raised an eyebrow, expecting a tale.
“We were on the point of divorce though. So I can’t say I really miss her. Bitch.”
“What happened?” he asked.
I didn’t really want to go into too many details, but told him that we’d married far too young. If I’d thought about anything more than friendship, hormones and escape, maybe we wouldn’t have gone that far. We were so wrapped up in each other that we had no concept of the real world or the choices it offered. I wanted to get away from my family and from hers. Mostly, though we split up because I didn’t want children.
“Not at all?”
“No. We’d always said that we didn’t want them, but as soon as we got married, she changed her mind; both sets of parents were constantly mithering about being grandparents. Bloody nightmare.”
The break up was appalling, I was cruel and unreasonable. Cass and both families deserved better than the bile and hate I threw around.
“It’s not like she didn’t know my position,” I said, trying to justify my behaviour, “but she always thought I’d change my mind when we married. I’d set it out as one of my conditions for marriage for fucks sake.”
Mook laughed. “And now you’re stuck looking after us. Fate is cruel”.
“Well at least I don’t have to wipe your arse . . . oh hang on . . .”
We collapsed into giggles.