Love - a short story

Love.
Untouchable, yet has the force to smack you in the chest like a misfired rugby ball; lodging inside your ribcage, with a permanent indent on your organs. The stomach is elevated; an awakened puppet, frolicking around its cavity, as the heart mimics crescendos and tenors: a whole orchestra from the waist up.

Fred always had kind eyes: two full moons, swirling with teal and fleck of sea-blue, like a Van Gogh print. They would study your face, stature, the way your hands were clasped, before his elfish cupids bow would rise. His smile had to be reciprocated, much like his laugh, as it candied the air.
I was present when the agent approached him on our first adventure to Paris: the trip where he adorned a sailor's cap until we clambered back onto the EuroStar. He had suggested a snug restaurant for dinner: an incline from the Sacré-Cœur, where the Plat Du Jour cost the same as a first course back home.
A waiter, with an irregular shave around his cheeks and a birthmark on his neck, chuckled as we ordered identical meals. While the French onion soup was preparing, a man with a face no older than Fred's sidled next to our table, which balanced on the cobbles.
   "Would you be interested in modelling?"
That was the sort of face Fred had: one to be plastered on oversized, oversaturated billboards in the Underground. One to cause the hubbub to slow, gazing into those soulful eyes: mottled earthy tones, speculated to surely the digitally enhanced. And yet, there they were, laughing earlier than his voice, as we scraped crème brûlées out from their shallow dishes.
From then onwards, Fred would always optimise that very moment, overlooking the tourist rush of summer, spying the Eiffel Tower in the distance, as the best of his life.

He used to call me 'Ma', smirking in his childish nature, believing he had escaped in calling me Matilda instead of Mum. He would protest that he had done nothing wrong innocently, but Fred was like that: funny, kind, cheeky.

But that was four years ago.

Fred was my son. He did not agree to the French's man's preposition of modelling, and sometimes, I am sad that he does not have a public legacy.
Other times, I am relieved that I do not stumble upon his eyes peering over me, as I stroll down Regent Street, only to realise that they are stuck on the side of a grand building.
Never to reach him.
Never to brush his cheeks, still unfazed by puberty.

Yet still feeling the imprint of his love on me.

18 Things I Have Learnt at 18

At 6:20 today 18 years ago, the world was met with yet another baby. However, that baby is me and because I only have the narrow perspective of myself, that was a pretty good thing.
Well, I have yet to die or transform into a maniac (exams are pushing me that way however), so I made it to the milestone of 18. Don't I look pleased?

So, because I have been graced with 18 individual and varying years, I thought I would condense all that I have learnt into a list of 18 - enjoy!

1. Your colour is every colour. And, much like the majority that consumes our lives, what suits your body is just another body’s opinion, and you can have a different one

2. Only say words ironically if you are prepared for it to become part of your vocabulary. (Basically the reason why I say 'funky' and do a 'cheeky Nando's sign' after every other sentence.)

3. Homemade cakes are the best.

4. Moisturise! Imagine your cheeks to be precious pearls, your eyes to be antique boxes laced with silk, your neck to be a delicate painting: look after them with moisture. And, although you will forget it, the feeling of smooth legs cannot be beaten.

5. If you begin speaking to your pet in a soppy, high-pitched voice, they will never listen to you unless you use that voice and you will have to have a conversation trapped between normal tone and that of an overexcited toddler.

6. Trying hard is cool. Revising is cool. Be cool.

7. If you want to give someone a compliment, give it. Let it leave your lips and broaden their smile. The worst that could happen is a tiny electrical awkwardness that will instantly fizzle away (looking towards the Primark lady who I half-whispered to that her hair was nice and she just smiled and then continued to fold my clothes) and the best is that you have made their day and they will wear that coat for many more years to come.

8. It is ok to relish in your own music taste: if you are surrounded by trap fanatics, you can still be a Tom Odell advocate (love you Tom)

9. Wash your hair with conditioner first and then shampoo. Your hair will be as soft as the legs you have just moisturised. (Moisturise!)

10. Bananas and peanut butter is a great combination. Also bananas and chocolate.

11. Grab at opportunities like rays of light, when you are trying to construct your own unbounded, ever-expanding sun.

12. Puppas and doggos make everything better.

13. Not all opinions have to be shared but not sharing opinions can be damaging too: instead of allowing a suppressed opinion to weigh down you mouth and eyelids, let it colour the minds of those around you.

14. Your body looks better than you believe and if you believe your body looks great it will look even better. (Admittedly I am still pulling myself along this winding road, but preach what you wish to happen.)

15. Lipstick takes away from the acne marks that you unleashed your fingers on last night. (Unfortunately I cannot put ‘Don’t pick spots’ in my list - but please don’t - because my face still bares the evidence of last night…)

16. Reading books turns the grainy filter in your brain into a infinite, multicoloured funnel; your ideas will become more than you once imagined.

17. Put bows in your hair for ever. And hair ties and hair bands and hair slides. And butterfly clips (I was born in '99; I can believe I was a '90's child).

18. Try to do more of what you love, which includes writing this blog.


An on that note, I am off to eat some birthday cakes (homemade - of course). Have a rad day everyone!

Yes, 'rad' is now in my vocabulary. See no.2