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 *