‘Oh, hasn’t Bex lost weight whilst she’s been away?’
My mum’s friends think, because I’m sitting more than two feet away from them, I can’t hear their discussion. I watch them in my peripheral vision as they squint at me, scrutinising. The pair of them, along with my mum, have the appearance of a plotting coven – all they need is a cauldron and it’ll be Nab Wood’s debut production of ‘Macbeth’.
‘Yes, definitely! Bex, come over here, let us look at you!’ Sue shouts.
I remind myself that all three of them are rather hard of hearing, therefore Sue’s summoning, despite its volume, is an invitation, not an order. Reluctantly, I slouch over to them.
‘Stand up straight!’ Sheila huffs, then, without warning, starts to pat me down as if she’s airport security searching for explosives. I try my best not to look horrified and stay still until she’s satisfied. ‘Yes. You’ve certainly evened out – you’re looking more in proportion now.’
‘Thanks, Sheila,’ I mutter. I love Mum’s friends; they have a wonderful talent for complimenting and insulting you simultaneously.
Mum has been beaming throughout this examination. ‘It’s because you’ve been doing so much walking up and down that hill. Sheila’s right... definitely more in proportion.’
‘She’s left her arse in Durham.’ Another brilliant one-liner from my sister as she saunters out of the kitchen.
‘Cheers, Charlotte.’
‘Don’t mention it... By the way, Sam phoned.’
I’m immediately suspicious. ‘Which Sam?’
‘The ginger, gay, lanky one.’
Thank God! There’s been a problem ever since I came back from Durham due to the inconvenient commonness of the name ‘Sam’. In my little universe I now have four Sams; Sam, the gay best friend I’ve known since I was five; Sam, my French cousin; Sam, as in ‘Samantha’, my fellow English student at Durham, and Sam, the first term fling who has turned into a cross between a puppy and a stalker since I returned to Yorkshire. Out of those four, I’m quite happy it’s the ‘ginger, gay, lanky one’.
‘When did he phone?’
‘Erm... I dunno... a few hours ago, maybe. He seemed upset,’ Charlotte replies, annoyed that I’ve detained her for longer than ten seconds.
‘A few hours ago?’ I snap. ‘Why didn’t you tell me sooner?’
‘I forgot, alright? I’m not your flippin’ secretary!’ She then flounces out of the room. I can quite picture her being a secretary actually... Painting her nails bright pink whilst she rings her boyfriend and leaves four urgent calls on hold.
Whilst conducting pleasantries with my sister, I’ve been vaguely aware of several hands continuing to poke and prod me. I turn back to ‘the coven’.
‘I’ve read that really academic students just forget to eat because they’re so focused on work,’ Sue says, furrowing her brow at me.
Before giving any of them chance to start quizzing me about my nutritional habits, I jump in with: ‘Sorry, ladies, I’ve got a phone call to make.’
As I turn I hear a collective ‘ahhh’ and Sue says: ‘She really has left her bottom in Durham!’
* * *
‘I want to go home,’ Sam murmurs suddenly, cutting me off mid-sentence.
‘Oh...’ It takes me a while to figure out what he means, then it hits me: university. He wants to go back to university... And then my misery of the past couple of weeks starts to make a lot more sense.
You know, I’d convinced myself I was actually crazy. People tell me I am on a daily basis, of course. But this time I’d resigned myself to the fact that I would end up in a strait-jacket by my mid-twenties. Last week, the little woman who lives in my head stirred and reviewed my current situation: Happiness. Type: Non-fleeting. Non-mutable. And then, smirking, she flicked a little switch and I was catapulted into misery. I know a lot of people have a habit of standing in the way of their own happiness – I’m a repeat offender. I was so annoyed with myself - desperately trying to pin my unhappiness on one concrete thing, trying to make it a normal reaction; a lepidopterist stabbing at butterflies with a needle.
Now Sam has just skewered the butterfly for me: Durham, I want to go back to Durham... My parents have returned to work, my sister is back at school, and I’m left lounging on the sofa, watching ‘Jeremy Kyle’ and eating my body weight in chocolate. (Admittedly, this is just student life minus a gaggle of hung-over friends doing exactly the same thing.) I’m bored, frustrated with this monotony... and I’m lonely. I miss my friends who became my new family in the first term.
I’ve spent so much time recently obsessing over the concept of ‘home’, fuelled, of course, by a few midnight sessions on a ‘Mansfield Park’ essay about the importance of ‘home’. I think of Fanny Price, taken from her home in Portsmouth to the grand Northamptonshire manor of Mansfield Park. By the end of the novel, she finds herself thinking: ‘Portsmouth was Portsmouth. Mansfield was home.’
‘I know how you feel, Sam,’ I whisper finally... Nab Wood is Nab Wood. Durham is home.
Comments
skinner_jennifer | January 7, 2011 - 09:39
Hi Magic,
what a brilliant piece this is, I am glad for you,
that it is Durham that you see as your home, it
would never have been right if it was the other way
round and hey! your growing and that is good.
Loved the description of your mums friends, as the
witches in Macbeth, it gave me a smile.
Hope your feeling better now that your back in
Durham.
I know it's late, but Happy New Year.
Jenny. Take care.
MistakenMagic | January 7, 2011 - 10:31
Hello Jenny - Happy New Year to you too :) I'm not back in Durham until next weekend - these university holidays are so long :/ Just had to write to vent my frustration!
Magic xxx
celticman | January 7, 2011 - 11:16
She’s left her arse in Durham.’ Another brilliant one-liner from my sister as she saunters out of the kitchen.
Really enjoyed this, but you over embellish- and I should know.
You don't need to tell the reader it's a brilliant one-liner. We can see that. And is she says something equally as brilliant we will know it. Patterns. Patterns. Patterns in prose as is poems.
MistakenMagic | January 7, 2011 - 11:30
Thanks for reading, celticman and glad you enjoyed. I guess that little 'brilliant one-liner' flourish was a little tribute to my dad as we have an in-joke about writing a book on my sister's 'one-liners'. But if you think it's embellishment - I'll take it out!
Magic xxx
P.S. Thanks for the cherries, cherry fairies!
shoe | January 7, 2011 - 12:23
Love the description of the first term fling and the whole butterfly thing, much enjoyed.
Silver Spun Sand | January 7, 2011 - 12:31
I agree with all that has been said, Magic. I do, so very much, enjoy your prose, and make the most of these last few days; then it's back to the grind...Although, it would seem that somehow you miss it;-) Well done on the well-earned cherry!
Tina xxx
MistakenMagic | January 7, 2011 - 12:32
Thank you, Shirley! :) Glad you liked those images!
Magic xxx
MistakenMagic | January 7, 2011 - 12:36
Thanks, Tina! I'm enjoying my experimentation with prose. And I do miss 'the grind', so very much!
Magic xxx
tcook | January 7, 2011 - 16:43
It's not a grind - it's Uni - it's fun, fun, fun. I didn't even notice I was learning anything but I'm sure I did! I think there's a curve in Uni life - at first it's like this and then somewhere along the line you reach a peak and it begins to go downhill so that by the end you are ready to leave and move on. I must admit that I stayed around Exeter for another 5 years after I left and now I'm back there but that's another story.
Enjoy it and squeeze every little thing out of it whilst you have the chance. It only happens once in life!
MistakenMagic | January 7, 2011 - 18:12
Well my parents have already written me off as a life-long academic - MA, PhD, then lecturing - they think I'll end up in Durham forever! Quite a tempting prospect at the moment. Shame College will charge me £30 a night if I go back now :/
Magic xxx
Beeme | January 8, 2011 - 16:16
I really enjoyed Magic, well done on the cherry-richly deserved as ever. I am in love with your recent prose, very enjoyable indeed! :)
Beeme xx
MistakenMagic | January 8, 2011 - 17:22
Awww thanks, Beeme! Poetry is avoiding me at the moment, so I'm glad you're enjoying my prose filling in the gaps ;)
Magic xxx
Cavalcaderl | January 14, 2011 - 13:15
new MistakenMagic
congrats;on cherry!
Enjoyed this very much.
Happy new year,glad you want
get back Uni,missed you at London,
but did wear your cherry! brooch
wishing you all the best,meet you
another time.Great evening
julie xx
MistakenMagic | January 14, 2011 - 13:41
Thank you, Julie! Sorry I missed you in London - but hopefully we should meet at another event in the future :) A happy new year to you too!
Magic xxx
rjnewlyn | January 15, 2011 - 00:51
Considering all the excellent poetry you write, the prose is very good - pleasantly straightforward and unpoetical with nice turns of phrase. It didn't come across as over-embellished, but you may have done some subsequent editing. Really enjoyed and captured what the feelings I vaguely remember about the first holiday and confused feelings about 'home' and what it meant anymore.
London readings look like happening every couple of months or so, so do let me or Tony or Blighters know if you can ever make it down. Alternatively what about a NE England event?
Rob
MistakenMagic | January 15, 2011 - 13:48
Thank you, Rob! It really means a lot to me that you like my prose as you write such successful and beautiful prose yourself! I really would like to come to an ABC event, I'll just need enough notice to book my train tickets in time to get them a little cheaper. A NE event sounds great too - do let me know if you need ideas for locations!
Magic xxx
fatboy74 | January 15, 2011 - 15:21
Magic, you are forcing me to read prose (even if it is v. good prose) when what I want to be reading are some more of your poems. Please go back to Uni to recapture your muse and stop you going mad - or else I'll start writing prose and everyone will be sorry. ATB FB :-)
MistakenMagic | January 15, 2011 - 17:52
I'm returning tomorrow, fatboy! Hopefully my sanity and inspiration will come back to me in the near future - can't have my readers unhappy ;) Your threat of prose won't quite work though I'm afraid - I'd love to read some of your prose :P
Magic xxx
fatboy74 | January 15, 2011 - 21:05
Brilliant, I'm really pleased for you Magic - Not sure I agree with Tony though, I wanted to stay there for ever - Peter Pan Syndrome I fear, afraid of responsibilty etc which is probably why I did my MA, that and the price of subsidised beer.
Be careful what you wish for, my prose writing is dull, dull, dull. All the best for a happy return. FB.
rjnewlyn | January 15, 2011 - 21:40
The next 'Upstairs with ABCtales' is 15th March (same venue in central London), so plenty of time to book a train!!
Rob
MistakenMagic | January 15, 2011 - 23:44
Thanks, fatboy - I think I agree with you already about the 'Peter Pan Syndrome'! ;)
That's great news, Rob. It's in the last week of term but as I'm an English student and have very few hours I won't have to miss any lectures if I come down on the Tuesday afternoon and return on the Wednesday. I'll get on to sorting the tickets - and a place to stay! Can you please give me the address of the venue?
Magic xxx
Kahdai | January 26, 2011 - 19:39
This such a brilliant story Magic! Some comedy I needed and I think I know what you mean ;) xxx K
pauper | August 14, 2011 - 03:09
This is great. I just graduated, so I can relate - except for a majority of my education I saw my parent's house as home rather than school.
I love this line:"I know a lot of people have a habit of standing in the way of their own happiness – I’m a repeat offender." So true.