Concrete and Clay

"On the Shore of the Wide World" by Simon Stephens - National Theatre, London.

Life's full of the extraordinary. Full of it.

"Roy Keane, girls and the size of the galaxy: Stockport, 2004, and the boys are growing up fast. Soon they’ll be looking to escape, and it makes their parents feel old. Christopher could always rely on a kind word from his grandfather, but now he’s not so sure. And then something happens that changes family life forever."

I didn't write this copy, I copied it from the theatre's website. I am off to see the production tonight, it sounds good. Unfortunately it is raining, I wanted to squeeze a bit of skating at Southbank in before the show.

Warm. Probably dreaming. Uncertain if so. Cups and saucers.

Suddenly the sound of a dentists drill in my ear. Not dreaming of teeth, brings luck. Probably nothing. Forks. Spoons.

Then a scream like a microscopic banshee. A divebomber in my ear. The product of a million years of evolution. I jump up, startled and panic stricken by the attack. Suddenly hunted. There, the black dot zig zags away towards the ceiling, expertly avoiding an easy swipe.

From subconscious to conflict in a second. Weapons; a towel, an empty packet of Jacobs crackers, hands. A half asleep robocop scans the room, identifying threats. Serve the public trust, protect the innocent, uphold the floor. Must have been dreaming.

I open the wardrobe to put the towel away. From behind the door hesitantly floats the predator. A spectre in the morning gloom. I jump in panic and swipe at the wall.

My blood drips down the wall next to a lightswitch.