FERRY TALE ENDING On a night when the rain was blowing sideways she watched him board . Hanging over the passenger staircase looking down at the parade of soaked humanity oozing out of lifts clutching bedding, Cassie kept her jaded roving eye at high alert . She was a woman who holidayed alone watching people. Listening to snatches of conversation while she flirted with the gypsy violinist and bought three cd’s from his pebble eyed child. She stared at her fat freckled arms in the short blue blouse and sighed . Spain couldn’t come fast enough. She ran past the cluster of crew to lock her cabin and once inside the small neat space quickly smoked half a cigarette. Unlike the majority of her colleagues whose cabins were strewn with toiletries and discarded uniforms, hers was visitor friendly. She straightened the patchwork throw brought from home and folded down the page of her book . ...
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Greetings from this rain soaked Emerald Isle where as I type the drops are splashing off the perspex skylight (circa 1970) and the condensation from dinner cooking is running down the "woodchip" walls (Ditto). Mr O has left the building, county and possibly country chaperoning his errant 15 year old daughter back to Bonnie Scotland and school (Tomorrow!!) and the arms of his waiting (ex) wife . No doubt there will be words as she was due back ten days ago ............. at least . But then what do I know of teenagers, or he for that matter. Apart from the fact he was one when his first 2 children were born , and though the headcount of his progeny has now raised to 5 , I fear he is still the gawky adolescent he may have been 20 years ago . Is it possible to be so emotionally traumatised by a divorce that one remains in stasis since the event, or is this dysfunctional, co-dependant, relationship something we have both manifested. ?? Him - because despite his handso...