So I stand there in my living room, my newly published book
gleaming in my hands, a grin across my face so wide, that it looks like I have
attempted to eat a Cadbury's chocolate bar whole, and I am not talking about the
standard bar either!
I get a message from my good friend requesting that I drop
her a copy of my book. I take a look out the window and see that the snow is
falling dangerously heavy, the roads look treacherous, and most of all, I haven’t
gelled my hair. After much persuasion (well a whole seven seconds discussion
with my inner monologue) I decide that this friend could very well be my first
and only fan, snow or no snow, gel or no gel I would have to risk it. So off I
went.
It would be fair to say that I try to keep physically fit,
although with each laboured step I take, hauling my feet through snow as thick
is treacle, I soon realise just the predicament I had got myself into. Nevertheless
I persevere onwards, dragging myself through the blizzard. Cars pass me on the
main road, spraying slush and ice like a tsunami against my face, freezing my
little nose in the process and yet still I battle on. My legs quickly felt
heavy, my muscles were pumping so hard that it was no longer possible to determine
whether it was the snow, or sweat that had them soaked to the bone. My thoughts
drift to the great Robert Peary and his journey to the north pole in the April
of 1909, although I am not sure that my brown, suede, large Next jacket would
compare to their snow specific thermals that I am sure they adorned back then,
almost immediately I concluded that I had it worse than they did.
The miles felt like marathons, and when I finally reached my
friends vehicle, I had no fight left in my weary bones. Doing something less
than manly, I am pretty sure I fainted.
When I awoke, I found myself in this beautifully warm room. Within
seconds of my arousal, a glass of the finest champagne was placed into my hand
and I was being embraced and celebrated by all around me. My eyes darted around
the room, the bright colours were dazzling but I could make out a family of
happy, welcome faces that were greeting me with the finest hospitality. On the
main kitchen bunker, there were thick cut, tender fillet steaks sitting there,
looking succulent and divine and just waiting to be placed onto the grill. There
were candles lit on the table and more glasses filled with delicious looking
wine. I could hear the snaps of camera shutters, multiple sounds from multiple
devices, all pointing at me.
A voice spoke softly to me, a familiar and very friendly
voice. “Will you sign my book?” she asked. I take the pen in my hand and begin
to write. What I scribbled remains a mystery to me even now, but she seemed
happy with the outcome. I stood back up and I felt her hand at my back, I
lifted my weary eyes and once more found myself in the firing line of another
photo opportunity. I smile, not because I was asked to smile, but because I was
so happy at where I had found myself. The flash hits my eyes and I am
momentarily dazzled, the glare fills my vision and I half expect to wake up
somewhere cold, outside and in the snow. As the glare fades I smile once more, I
am exactly where I was...it really WASNT
a dream!
Peace & Love
* M.R Shields *
Peace & Love
* M.R Shields *
