SCHOOL REPORT

1-2-3-4

I wake up before I want to, like a wound reopening, and it takes me quite a few goes to

really come to, even though the cars keep roaring by outside and my alarm keeps tinkling by

inside.

I never have been good at waking up, no matter what the day had in store.

I’ve let the tea Kay brought me go cold because the second I open my eyes I’ll feel lost in the real world.

Is that the doorbell?

I panic, thinking I’m going to have to talk to someone while I’m still not dressed, and that

makes me cross with myself for not getting up sooner.

I wish I could live in my dreams.

There’s got to be some toothpaste left in this tube, so I fold it and squeeze, squeeze some

more and try again, spill a bit down my front.

I find one sock, but the other one that matches it is nowhere to be found.

Not that it matters, but I open a drawer I haven’t looked at in ages, and my old school

reports, tatty with time, confront me.

Judgements carried through life.

HE IS A SMALL BOY, WHO DOES NOT CARRY MUCH WEIGHT, BUT IS WILLING.

Old exam papers, too.

I’ve written something in the margin on that one, but I can’t read my own writing now.

I open the curtains and it’s lighter than I expected.

Is it too early to put the heating on?

I need another wee.

I catch sight of myself in the mirror. There's hair growing in my ears, my skin's going saggy, but I’m still six inside.

STEPHEN IS A VERY CONSCIENTIOUS CHILD. HE NEEDS PLENTY OF PRAISE BECAUSE HE

TAKES HIS WORK SO SERIOUSLY, THAT HIS STANDARD, ALTHOUGH GOOD, CAN BECOME A WORRY TO HIM.

Kay shouts up that she couldn’t hear what I was saying earlier because the washing machine was on.

She’s sorry.  I shout back that I didn’t say anything.  She says what?  And then she says

sorry again.

Last week I had to leave the house really early before she woke up, so I left a note on her

pillow saying I loved her. But now I think if I don’t do it next time, she’ll think I’ve gone off

her.

Anyway, we say goodbye and it's time to get to work.

LET GO AND FORGIVE

TAKE SMALL STEPS EVERY DAY

STOP TO SMELL THE ROSES

AND MAKE THE TIME TO PLAY

LOVE’S THE ONLY TREASURE

DO THE NEXT RIGHT THING

LOOK INTO THE SUNLIGHT

AND LET THE FRESH AIR IN

HE WORKS STEADILY, BUT ACTUAL ACHIEVEMENT IS A LITTLE DISAPPOINTING.

I open my laptop, try to log on. I have to ask for the password to be reset for about the third

time this week. Then I check my other email address just in case the password's gone there, knowing full well I’m just trying to cheat time.

Like when I used to wait for a bus as a kid and always counted down from 15 to make it

arrive.

Is it this weekend the clocks go back or the next one?

I go downstairs, pluck some moldy blue-green dots off a slice of bread, pop it in the toaster

and come back upstairs.

Once or twice the bus arrived bang on countdown. Coincidence or destiny?

A KEYNOTE OF THIS REPORT IS HIS UNWILLINGNESS TO ADOPT A WHOLEHEARTED ATTITUDE TOWARDS HIS ACTIVITIES.

I’m still getting adverts for something I looked at once last summer, even though I didn’t really want it then and I don’t want it anymore. Google knows more about me than my mum

ever did. But then she had trouble recognizing when I’d changed too. Those were the days

before search histories of course…

Is it better when the clocks go back or forward?

Ugh, I quickly grab yesterday’s underpants from the floor and start waving them wildly at

the smoke alarm, with the beeping blanking out my curses. Burnt toast. Again.

I wish they’d had the internet when I was a kid.

I make a new piece of toast but forget and it gets cold, and then I eat it all the same when I

realize.  And I let my new cup of tea get cold too but I drink it up as well.  Then I make

another one straight away to catch up.  And then I read about football for far too long and get angry with myself for wasting the day

again.

I pop the kettle on and wonder how long that mountain of soggy tea bags goes back. Looks

like a week or more. It’s probably this morning.

LET GO AND FORGIVE

TAKE SMALL STEPS EVERY DAY

STOP TO SMELL THE ROSES

AND MAKE THE TIME TO PLAY

LOVE’S THE ONLY TREASURE

DO THE NEXT RIGHT THING

LOOK INTO THE SUNLIGHT

AND LET THE FRESH AIR IN

I AM CONCERNED BY THE IMPRESSION GIVEN THAT HE IS ONLY JUST KEEPING HIS HEAD

ABOVE WATER, AND THAT HIS DESIRE TO SWIM TO SAFETY HAS NOT YET BEEN KINDLED.

I flick a bit of burnt bread off the screen, and it occurs to me that I have no idea at all how

LCD works, if that’s what it is?  I ought to Google it but, you know, time is precious….

My phone startles me by ringing but because it’s a number I don’t know I don’t answer it.

Could be anyone but the chances are good that I don’t want to speak to them. I don’t really

like phones. It’s hard to explain why. But if someone rings me I’m certainly not ready for

them and if I have to ring them then there’s this whole massive burden of anxiety. I wish

phones didn’t exist.  Whoever rings with good news? It’s like letters through the post. You never get a letter with good news, do you, these days?  Speeding ticket. Doctors. Bills. Dogs that need help. War-torn medics wanting blankets. Unbelievable offers on solar panels in just my area this week…

What was her name? The one who got on my bus that I never spoke to.  Susan? Charlotte?

All those rumbling journeys. The road not taken.  The stops not stopped at.

I go back to my emails. It takes forever to load and I feel like I’m being punished for all my

mean thoughts. By God, via broadband, I suppose. Assuming God still has power over big

tech companies, which seems unlikely come to think of it. Much more likely the other way

around.

But you can’t not have a phone, can you?

If I can’t be myself who can I be?  That’s what Marilyn Monroe said.

LET GO AND FORGIVE

TAKE SMALL STEPS EVERY DAY

STOP TO SMELL THE ROSES

AND MAKE THE TIME TO PLAY

LOVE’S THE ONLY TREASURE

DO THE NEXT RIGHT THING

LOOK INTO THE SUNLIGHT

AND LET THE FRESH AIR IN

I need to forgive myself.

I need to forgive everyone.

That was my New Year’s resolution.

That and be healthy.

But I keep forgetting.

Oh, the internet is playing up again. I wish I had a pound for every time I’ve said to Kay that

the internet is playing up again. I wish I had a pound for every time I’ve said to Kay I wish I

had a pound…

The phone rings again. The same number. I figure they’ll leave a message if it’s important.

My allergies are bad today and I haven’t even been outside.  Maybe that’s why my knees hurt. Too much sitting still. So I jump up and knock my new hot mug of tea all over the carpet.

I mop it up with a tea towel, the one we got on holiday in Cornwall.

That’ll have to go in the washing now…

The same number rings again. That’s the third time!  What if it’s an emergency?

So I answer it, coughing because the kitchen’ still a bit smoky from the toast.

A young woman says she’s calling because they’ve heard that I was involved in an accident

that wasn’t my fault.  I said no, not me.  And she rings straight off…

That tea towel’s not the only thing that needs to go in the wash.  I got toothpaste on my t-

shirt earlier. And even though I put this jumper on clean this morning, I’ve already got

peanut butter on it.

I wanted to be the one to ring off!

Doesn’t seem fair…

No one should have a job they don’t feel good about. How different the world might be

then, eh?

I really ought to go outside for a bit but it looks so grey and cold.

We went to another Cornish place, you know, and they had the exact same tea towel design

but with a different harbor name in the corner. Made in China, probably…

There’s another crack appeared in the ceiling.

I wish the internet had never been invented. I’d have been outside cycling or something.

Probably.

LET GO AND FORGIVE

TAKE SMALL STEPS EVERY DAY

STOP TO SMELL THE ROSES

AND MAKE THE TIME TO PLAY

LOVE’S THE ONLY TREASURE

DO THE NEXT RIGHT THING

LOOK INTO THE SUNLIGHT

AND LET THE FRESH AIR IN

HE IS LIVELY AND LIKEABLE, BUT STILL LACKS CONFIDENCE.

I notice the sun is coming through the clouds, lighting them up with a holy glow. So I take a

few pictures that I already know will be blurry because my camera can’t cope with far away

droplets floating in the sky. And I take one or two shots that focus on the smudges on the

window instead.

I remember not being invited to my best friend’s birthday party when I was maybe nine or

ten. He’ been to mine the month before. I remember that like it happened this morning.

And then it strikes me: I haven’t even had peanut butter today!

I probably always confuse myself … I know I confuse disappointment with regret but just because it didn’t happen like I wanted

Doesn’t necessarily mean I could have done better, does it?

I know that to be happy you have to live in the world as it is, not as you’d like it to be.

But what would be the point in that?

Is that brown spot on my hand getting bigger?

I don’t think I ever really recovered from school.  Or from work.  Or from anyone I ever met…

To be fair, just because things didn’t always turn out the way I planned doesn’t mean it wasn’t all for the best in the end. That’s quite often been the way…

That’s quite a comforting revelation!

I’ll forget it tomorrow…

No one ever looks at the ceiling, do they? That crack doesn’t matter…

I wonder if my knees will always hurt now I’m getting older, or whether I’ll get a second

wind?  I make the blood pump in my ear by poking it. Why can’ I learn to leave it alone?

I think in the end it turned out I’d forgotten my wallet anyway. In my dream last night, I

mean…

It can be hard to tell things you’ve imagined from things that really happened and vice

versa.

LET GO AND FORGIVE

TAKE SMALL STEPS EVERY DAY

STOP TO SMELL THE ROSES

AND MAKE THE TIME TO PLAY

LOVE’S THE ONLY TREASURE

DO THE NEXT RIGHT THING

LOOK INTO THE SUNLIGHT

AND LET THE FRESH AIR IN

My hearing’s never been the same since that gig in 2012…

I can’t tell from these online pictures what’s cancer and what’s not. Only a doctor can, I

suppose. Even as I took those photos, I knew I’d never look at them again. Not even when I copied them onto my computer because the phone’s full up.

AT THIS BEST, HE IS VERY GOOD INDEED. AT HIS WORST, WHEN HE IS ENGAGED IN A

LETHARGY OF PUZZLING, STUBBORN PERVERSENESS, HE CAN BE QUITE DREADFUL.

I notice that the hoover has small cobwebs on it, which seems ironic…

What does second wind mean? Is it a real thing? Is there a third one?

I want to look it up, but I’m not the kind of man that wastes time, so instead I finally pluck

up the courage to make the call I’ve been putting off all day. I let it ring twice, then ring off quickly. Because I didn’t really want to talk to them, but I felt obliged to try.

I know it’s bad, but I’m going to take it.

I remember to drink my tea when it’s still warm, and that reminds me of the time when Kay

said she was so busy saving the world she forgot her hot chocolate. She was playing a

computer game of course…

That was cute. Typical Kay…

She probably was saving the world though, like she does in her own small way every day.

Like the best people do.

LET GO AND FORGIVE

TAKE SMALL STEPS EVERY DAY

STOP TO SMELL THE ROSES

AND MAKE THE TIME TO PLAY

LOVE’S THE ONLY TREASURE

DO THE NEXT RIGHT THING

LOOK INTO THE SUNLIGHT

AND LET THE FRESH AIR IN

The problem is: the muddle and the mess between this world and those objects, those things and these moods, that concrete and these feelings, the inside and the outside, the cartoon and the keepsakes, those bananas and that guilt, that toothbrush, that sigh, those subtitles, that bruise, those tyres, meningitis, airports, aches and pains, appointments, shoes, woodlice, wild things, and salt, blood, and blurry, and greedy, and innocent, and sorry, and bored, and tomorrow, and funny, and carrots, and that bomb, and those forgotten, that recipe, and those worries, that ticket, and those chimneys, and sweat, and swear, and sleep, and itch, and talk, and drink, and buy, and drive, and breathe, and hurt, and sit, and sleep, and bleed, and try, and wish, and candles, and forgetting, and cream, and cracks, and camera, and birthday, and those weddings, and those weeds, those tissues, and that weather, genocide, and genetics, and generally, or sometimes, that pillowcase, and those debts, and those germs, and that sadness, that dust, and those church bells, and hating, and yourself, and painting, and broccoli, and rhymes, and clouds, prosthetics, excuses, synonyms, drains, ambitions, lessons, and socks, balloons, and bones, and fuses, and runner beans, cat food, contraception, cuddles, immigration, incarceration, futility, flies, and pensions, and hope, privacy, a trophy, a promise, and blankets, adverts, hello, morning, seabirds, sorry, ulcers, worries, and a mask, a sneeze, a straw, and diseases, repeat, a debit card, a dinosaur, a flush, a cake, underpants, lyrics, a news conference, a graveyard, tankers, a conviction, convictions, road signs, noises, a mouse, quiet, fingernail, dirt, a bark, hues, a scar, sleep, homophobia, a bookmark, prayermat, a tear, an engine, pollen, parking spaces, hay, hosepipes, a spade, a dead mouse, space, war, plastic, laughter, teeth, a funeral, a nappy, happy, hopeless, needles, silence, gates, puddles, diseases, slugs, streams, shyness…

HIS RATHER DIFFIDENT APPROACH MAKES FOR SLOW PROGRESS

… back in history, rappers, lies, bins, hinges, refuse, anger, light switch, ink stain, tea leaf,

cardboard, clumsy, waiting, compassion, taxes, cobweb, misogynies, staples, cables, bulbs, bones, tyres, feathers, commas, questions, dandruff, smudges, hiccups, tomorrow,

swallowwing, sneezing, salivating, smelling, dribbling, radiators, clouds, the wind, busy roads, some bottles, a pin, some cream, a biscuit, some broken glasses, a doormat, headphones, a pine cone, an idea, some stains, a feather, a coincidence, a backpack, a waterfall, a memory, a spy, new trainers, a tube train, a squeak, and a whistle, and a cry, and a yawn, and a keyboard, and a hairband, and a belt, and a calendar, a crumb, and a bill, and a brush, and dandelions, and pebbles, and chickens, and brambles, the smell of diesel, shopping trolleys, energy, arthritis, CCTV, intolerance, allergies, and ladybirds.

And that’s what it’s like.

All the time.

Being me.

Bedtime…

And I lie in bed, wriggling to find a marginally less uncomfortable shape, and practicing a

conversation I’m expecting to have tomorrow so it'll go better than I think it will.

I’m just starting to drop off when my phone buzzes on the bedside table, and I wonder if I

should look at it just in case, but if it's something about work it’ll only keep me awake, so I don’t.

I fall asleep, frowning in the darkness, replaying an argument I had twenty-three years ago,

now that I’ve had more time to think of the right reply, but it still doesn’t feel like winning

somehow … Involved in an accident that wasn’t my fault?!

What could that be?

Global warming?

White supremacy?

The patriarchy?

The 21st century?

Or – if I’m really bleak – being born?

This is not a good place to go when I’m trying to get to sleep…

But then I have a really great day.

I love people and I forgive.

I take small steps.

I put the school reports back in the drawer.

And it’s a wonderful world.

… There are toast crumbs under the pillow…