When we left the gardens the world had changed. It was as if, just for a moment, the past four months had been scratched from history. We spoke like old and I held John's hand as he powered along and sometimes I pushed his chair and smelt his hair. We stopped off at the tennis courts and watched as two men bound around swinging their bats through time and space. John lit a cigarette, and I didn't mind because John has always smoked and it took me even further back to a place that once existed. We sat there like that, silent with smoke drifting by and the sound of tennis balls ricocheting through the air.

By the time we left the first tones of the evening were upon us. The sun was low, just a fading glow behind distant houses. As it fell more, shadows stretched and loomed. Secret insects came out of secret places and Londons dark avenues suddenly chirped and twittered with life. As the sky darkened further hallway lights came on and the sound of cutlery rang out. A woman, half crouched in her front yard, was calling and making strange noises to try and lure her cat in for the evening. John saw it first, a pair of reflector eyes peeking out from under a car. He turned to me and smiled. I winked. It was our secret.

We hit the main road just as the streetlights came on. One after the other, for as far as the eye could see, they flickered to life like a row off dominoes falling around town. We followed them for a while, then turned left, then right. I pushed John over a patch of grass and then past the outhouse that sheltered the huge metal bins. We were almost home, and just in time, for big blobs of rain began falling and coming down with the night proper. By the time I opened the door and we rushed in, the city was under siege – a beautiful summer storm was waging war across London.

After eating a little supper, John and I retired to the living room. We placed our chairs facing the back window and sat and watched the rains fall. For a long time neither of us spoke, then John said, “It's getting late, will you write a celebrity suicide note this evening?”
“No, not tonight,” I said “there's already been two deaths and we don't need another.” And then he leant across and crushed me in his arms and I done the same. We held on for life and dropped tears down each others backs. And like that we cradled each other through the storm. And when we left go it was gone twelve and the weekend was over.

“One more for old times sake?” I asked John desperately. He looked at me for a moment, all the beauty of a dead world in his eyes. Then he removed his Elvis Costello type glasses, placed them on my face and straightened them up. We kissed. And as the rain fell and lightening crackled across London, I knew that this was it, that things would never be the same again.


  1. Maybe I'll see you at the bottom of the hill. The Laws of Physics say that I should get there first.

    Enjoy the descent.

    Your Eternal Black Heart, John. x

  2. There is no greater romantic gesture than one's True Love removing his Elvis Costello type glasses and placing them on one's face.

    Even Romeo ne'er did such a thing for Juliett...

  3. @ Stacy: and the bus hasn't even crashed yet! But maybe we can stop it... I don't have much but I do have hope. X

    @ Abigail: Yeah, but knowing John, he probably only done that so as he didn't have to see what he was kissing.

    Did Romeo wear glasses??? next you'll be telling me he had a gimp and a thick tongue! Trust you to kill the myth. X

    @ To All who read the comments: last week i wasn't able to spend as much time as i normally do on this blog. That together with the account of Brians visit (which went on for two days) left me a little behind schedule and without the time to explain what happened after Brian left. A post is being prepared for that and will be backdated to the correct time. When it is done I will let you all know.

    The Real Tristram Spencer. X

  4. That was a great post.

    It really made me feel for the better days in my life along with yours.

  5. @ In Search If: Yep, when things go they are gone forever and then it's too late. But it's always too late, that's how the world works. We can't see tomorow, and even if we could it would only make us sad anyway; for tomorrow we all will die. X

  6. I thought I'd missed something - 'there's already been two deaths', 'the bottom of the hill', the bus crash...???

    But I see it's just your neglect of this blog. The laziness of youth...

    I hope you tie all this up better than Lost did. The Nerdettes are practicing voodoo on the writers of that series.

    Did Romeo wear glasses? Well he was a fictional character so he did and he didn't.

    Wouldn't it be funny if we were ALL fictional characters in a blog?

    I bet nobody's ever had that thought before.

  7. @ In Search OF (not If): Sorry! X

    @ Mrs Winthrope: I'm sure you understand very well xhat I was referring to, but just incase I'm so involved I don't see the blanks here we go:

    2 deaths = John & I. We kinda died spiritually over the weekend. Those were our last great days together. Thats what he reckons anyway.

    Bottom of the hill: If Sunday night was our summit, then the clock turning midnight and ending the weekend also signified our first step on the decline. As John is in a chair the laws of physics say he should hit the bottom first (I think).

    Bus Crash: The metophorical bus which John and I are travelling on (downhill, haha) is gonna crash... but it hasn't yet.

    Well, I hope thats helped clear up the acne that my writing sometimes suffers from, and just so as I don't leave the Nerdettes out, here's a few big fat worms for them:

    00:04 11777 WPC6969 IN749

    Get the Family Size Catholic Tissues at the ready, or even better a Vileda Super Mop, for when TBG gets an eyeful of those little teasers it'll look like someones shoved a marrow down the crotch of his lycra spandex pants. X

  8. Yes I see it all now. I have been thinking too literally.

    You would never believe that I was a poet and bohemian in another life. But since I found The Lord I see poetry and allegory only in religion.

    I do not regret this.

    The Nerdettes have swarmed round those digits and letters like Piranhas thrown into a tank containing Cher's poor obese transonsual Chaz.

    (Show me an obese adult and I'll show you a neglectful mother).

    You must be psychic - yes TBG does indeed wear Lycra spandex pants.

    I bet you even knew that they're tartan.


Tristram's Birthday: Sunday 3rd October

Tristram's Birthday: Sunday 3rd October
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Trolley Dash August 2010
Did Tristram accidently pick up a REAL bargain?

Brian the Postboy's gift to John: an ankle bracelet inscribed 'Super Dong'

Brian the Postboy's gift to John: an ankle bracelet inscribed 'Super Dong'
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The Dangerous Dandy by Barbara Cartland

The Dangerous Dandy by Barbara Cartland
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An Influx of Pigeons

An Influx of Pigeons
Is there still some hope for the fated Mr Spencer?
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