Add Colour to your Life

"The purest and most thoughtful minds are those which love colour
the most."
- John Ruskin

Yeah right. I mean look at me - I love colour, my wardrobe's
overflowing with he stuff and I've even made a shaky attempt at some
interior design on my flat. Green is my favourite; I could never live
with this new minimalist craze that's happening now. Yet I suppose even
white counts as a colour, just like vanilla counts as a flavour. But me
pure? I think Ruskin must have got it wrong there. Maybe not though, I
think all the time - too much one of my old boyfriends used to say! I
even keep myself awake at night sometimes, constantly thinking things
through...

GREY

My hand reaches out from underneath the covers and gropes about blindly
for the snooze button. I'm surprised I've still got one left as it gets
used about ten times every morning. If I didn't hate the sound of my
alarm I probably wouldn't bother with it at all.
Three snoozes later my head reappear and my eyes attempt to focus on
the clock and then wish they hadn't. I wish I'd had the night my head
seems to think it did last night, it feels like an elephant has spent
the night rolling on it. Come to think of it my eyes don't seem to be
functioning all that well either - I'm only seeing in shade of grey,
this is not a good sign. Eventually I realise that what I thought was
the light switch isn't. As I step out onto the landing my new found
colour visions spots a pale hand lying in the bathroom doorway, I
stifle a scream and shut my eyes wishing I'd never bothered to surface
from my nice warm bed. Slowly I creep forward and reopen my eyes. I
breathe a deep sigh of relief - it's only my flatmate Sal crashed out
on the floor. It looks like she had the night my head thinks it did!
Gingerly I step over her and reach for the toothpaste. I've never
understood why she persists in going out on a Sunday night; it makes
getting up on a Monday morning so much harder. Come to think of it I
don't think she's got up on a Monday morning for quite a while now.
She's got the kind of boss who never notices a thing whereas I've got
the boss from ell.
I step back over the hand and pull on my favourite grey suit, lobbing
everything else I need into my trusty bag. I hopefully check my mobile
for any signs that my boyfriend is alive - nothing. Racing out the door
I look up at the sky, a quick rummage in my bag reveals I have
everything I need apart from that damn umbrella. That sky is the
greyest I've seen in a long time, trouble's brewing somewhere.

YELLOW

I went shopping yesterday during my lunch break in search of a sexy
pair of kitten heels because I was feeling so gloomy. Buying shoes
always cheers me up - I have a whole wardrobe full at home, but I can
justify it because I do wear them all!
I found an absolutely gorgeous pair in lemon yellow, which will look
divine with anything. On my return the imminent rain arrived and I had
to nip onto the nearest shop to buy an umbrella. The only one in the
whole shop was incredibly cheesy and bright yellow but I couldn't face
returning to the office as a drowned rat so I bought it and pretended
all the people were staring at someone behind me.
I'm wearing my kitten heels now with a navy shirtdress and am on my way
to The Kingfisher pub to meet my boyfriend. He's just been away in the
Midlands for a week for a business conference and I missed him loads.
He resurfaced last night with a phone call. He seemed a bit tired -
poor thing, he works far too hard sometimes. We've been together for
over a year and we know each other inside out, he'll smile when he sees
my new shoes. He knows I can't resist once I've locked eyes on a pair I
love.
We met at work - I bumped into him on my way to the loos after my
highlighter had leaked all over my hands. I ended up covering his
pristine shirt in fluorescent smudges! We proceeded to fall madly in
love
You wouldn't think it had rained at all yesterday from the weather
today. The sun is blazing down and everyone's showing off lots of
flesh. Who said anything about trouble? How wrong could I have been -
everything's perfect.
I cross the road swiftly and sashay down the pavement towards the pub.
People are sunbathing on the lawns and the yellow sunshades ripple
gently in the breeze. I can see him now and I smile.

BLACK

My eyes are like daggers, stabbing into a wall that I know is there. My
room is black; pitch black other than two slits of light that creep
underneath the bottom of my blinds. The snooze button sits dejected on
the clock - it won't be used today. I didn't bother setting the alarm
last night - work is the last thing in my mind.
So much for the kitten heels. We're over, finished. He's left me for
someone else, someone from work that he met on this course. Someone
whom he'd never spoken to until a week age.
He sat there and tried to look sorry, saying he still loves me but
thinks its time we moved on and saw other people. Maybe he's got a
point; do I really want to be tied down yet? He claims nothing has
happened between them yet but that it probably will.
I'm not getting up at all today; I can't even be bothered to ring I
sick. He can tell everyone why I'm not there. I roll over and stare
into the darkness; I wonder what he's doing right now. The bastard, if
he ever dares darken my door again I'll give him a good piece of my
mind. I wish I'd screamed at him yesterday, I wasn't mad enough then
but I hate him now. I kick at the covers and thump the pillow hard
trying not to cry. I just want to sleep.
My drams are full of dark shapes and twisted grins. I see their faces
together. Terrible things happen to them, bullet holes appear by magic,
blood drips everywhere yet it's black not red. They torment me as much
as I torment them.
Hours later Sal bravely enters my room bearing a bottle of Vodka and
two glasses. I only know this because she has turned on the light and
shattered my darkness. She opens the bottle and we drink. To hell with
men.

BLUE

My head really does feel like an elephant spent the night rolling on it
now. I feel blue. I sit up too quickly and have to lie down again. More
slowly this time I rise and face the world - well the wallpaper anyway.
I'm calmer now, the nightmares are over, I'm just left with the empty,
impossible 'why?'
I reach down into my drawer for my miracle hangover tablets and gulp
down a few with some dusty water. Why do they have to make them such a
garish blue colour? I pick up the phone and dial work - I hate phoning
in sick as I'm such a bad liar but at the moment I sound so ill I'm
almost confident. I don't know if I'll go in tomorrow, I might bump
into them in a corridor and burst into tears.
How can he do this to me, to us? I can't hate him now, I love him so
much, I do want to settle down and I want it to be with him. He
obviously doesn't give a damn about the whole thing, he hasn't rung.
But then why would he, he dumped me.
I get up and slouch down the stairs. I can't stay in bed any longer
when all that runs through my head is the fact that he'll never share
it with me again. I turn on the TV and sit watching the Tellytubbies
with a tatty blue cushion. I will not cry, I won't.
I cry.
Dipsy and Po blur as the tears start to run down my face. I can't stop
them so I just cling onto the cushion for dear life and let them take
over. Eventually the shaking stops and I drop off to sleep.
This time my dreams are sad, I dream of us together in happy times
past, I dream of us back together, happy again. I cry I my sleep. Tears
so sad they're almost blue.

PINK

I braved work today, the Vodka ran out and three days off in a row
requires a note from the doctor. Post relationship depression doesn't
count as an illness - it's all in the mind!
I saw them together at work; they came into the office to pick
something up, a follow up to the conference or something similar. She
caught me staring at her and I blushed bright pink. I know because I
ran straight to the loos after they'd gone to see how I'd looked and
there it was - pink. She looked a bit plain really and I'm not just
being bitchy because she stole my boyfriend, she really wasn't that
much to look at.
I bumped into him at the photocopier in the afternoon and he went pink.
I had to wait for him to finish so I stood there staring at a poor,
scrunched up pink post stick note on the floor. I wonder what it said.
At one point he cleared his throat and started to speak but his
photocopying finished and made him blush again.
Sal sails through the door whistling merrily, she seems to know I'm
over the worst and things can only get better. She's carrying a bottle
of rose wine and heads straight for the kitchen and the
corkscrew.
"Want one?" she asks from the kitchen drawer.
I mumble a reply and then shout,
"Just make sure you don't spill it on the carpet!"
She pokes her head round the door and pouts; I blow her a kiss leaving
a lipstick smudge.
I drink slowly, savouring the flavour before swallowing. I smile to
myself as I remember the tube journey home, an amazingly cute guy kept
staring at me and this time I didn't have my umbrella with me. At least
I know I'm still attractive to men. Maybe I'll hit the town this
weekend with Sal and paint the town red. Maybe even pull! Perhaps not
red, more a paler shade of pink.

ORANGE

I get up as soon as I hear the alarm, the snooze button no longer
necessary. I feel ready to face the world and everything it wants to
throw in my face. I rush to the bathroom and lean over the toilet rim.
Wiping my mouth I avoid spending too long face to face with the mess
and hurriedly flush the toilet. Maybe I'm not quite so ready after
all.
Work isn't so bad; in fact it's almost confusing. I see him, see him
throughout the day. He looks at me as if I'm standing on my head, or
he's never seen me before. He's no longer pink, he just searches my
face for something and I don't know whether I want him to find
it.
My heart keeps fluttering, I thought I was almost over him. Now I'm not
so sure. I'm really tempted to give him a ring but I'm scared she might
answer and I'll just end up feeling more hurt. I just feel like talking
to him. I pick up the phone and listen to the dial tone, a tear slowly
trickles down my cheek tickling me but I don't have the heart to brush
it away. I place the phone back in its cradle and close my eyes. It
rings. My heart jumps in the air and then descends to somewhere below
my stomach, what's the point in getting my hopes up. I pick it
up.
"Hello."
Silence, my heart misses a beat.
"Lizzy?"
It's him. I pick up an orange form the fruit bowl and roll it nervously
in my hand.
"Yes?"

PURPLE

I've just got out of the shower and found an awful bruise on my leg, I
must have got it when under the influence of all that Vodka.
We had a really weird conversation last night. Surreal but nice. It's
brought everything again and I just feel helpless, like everything is
beyond my control. The truth is it isn't.
He said he loves me, he doesn't know what happened or why he did it. He
just wants to be back with me but he doesn't feel like he can come back
after what he's done. I told him it doesn't matter even though I don't
know if it's true.
I know I love him and that I need him and I'd rather be with him than
anyone else but can I take him back after what he's done? What about
her - will she just disappear?
I've given him 24 hours to decide what to do, is that too mean? I need
to get on with my life, with or without him.
Part of me wants to dance around and be happy but the other bit isn't
quite so optimistic. Maybe we should be apart and see other people. I
was just getting used to the idea of singledom and girlie nights out on
the pull, but is it what I want?
I stand up and go to the kitchen for a cup of coffee, banging my bruise
on the table as I go.

RED

The doorbell rings. It's probably just a salesman; even so my heart
pounds, thumping hard o my ribcage. I get up and head for the
door.
He has chosen. He is here on the doorstep right before my very eyes. He
hands me a bunch of deep red roses,
"Lizzy."
I place my finger on his lips; I don't want him to speak - not yet. I
lead him through to the lounge though he knows the way well. I leave
him and run for the kitchen grabbing, a vase and filling it with
water.
Everything feels odd; something needs to happen to us back to where we
were before. I don't dare to kiss him, he seems like a whole new
person, a stranger almost.
I walk back to the lounge, see him and fall in love all over again. How
could he have been so stupid? I don't know what happens next but
somehow I'm in his arms. The kiss feels amazing, all my tension and
hurt flows away in an instant. That something has happened - we are
together again. I break off and kiss his eyelids, his ears, his cheek.
He holds me and strokes my hair and back, all the things only he knows
I love.
We go to my bedroom, clothes dropping as we go. I know this is the way
it's meant to be. It might not last forever but it feels damn good now.
He pulls me onto the bed. I watch him remove my underwear, I wore my
red set today because it's his favourite and I was hoping he'd come. He
looks up and his eyes tell me a thousand words. I ca see how sorry he
is and how much he loves me. He wants to know if it's okay, if I'm
okay. I nod.

GREEN

The air is fresh; we are walking through the park hand in hand.
Everything is now perfect. I have the rug and he has the picnic, we
head towards the duck pond the leaves of the trees are reflected in the
water and ducks splash and dive amongst them like a wind in the
branches.
I place the rug down and flop on it in the sun; I lie back and smell I
the sweet grass. He props himself beside me and I can feel his watchful
gaze on my face, the smell of the grass blends with his aftershave and
creates a heavenly scent. He is wearing my favourite - Eternity for
men.
I glance at him out of the corner of my eye sneakily but he catches me
and scoops me up in his arms, tickling me. I scream and wriggle away
quickly, take the food and begin to feed the mallards bits of bread
throwing it carelessly into the water. Bread amongst the leaves. Bread
swimming on the pond. The green heads of the ducks captivate me.
"Lizzy, you've fed them all our sandwiches." I glance down at the empty
box, only a few crumbs remain, I tip them out to join the rest.
A ball lands in the pond and the leaves seem to fall off the watery
trees, we lie back on the rug and proceed to stuff ourselves with
sticky cakes coating our hands and each other with icing and sugar. I
breathe in deeply, my stomach pleasantly full. A greenfly lands on my
arm and rather than squish it I watch it crawl up my arm until it spots
something more interesting and flies off. I always call greenfly
'Bobby' - don't know why.

WHITE

And so to save the best till last, although this is far from the
end.
I awake from pleasant dreams of beaches and clouds. I open my eyes and
stare at the cool, white ceiling. It's a Sunday morning and we can stay
in bed all day. I can hear birds singing outside, I slip out of bed and
go to the window. I raise the blind and gaze out, tracing plane trails
and finding castles in the clouds. They move and are gone.
I slip back into the crisp sheets anxious not to be away from the magic
for too long and once again stare at the ceiling. He wakes up and casts
a protective arm over me searching my face for reassurance that
everything's going to be all right. And it is. I roll over and snuggle
into his arms; we hug for what seems an eternity but can't be because
there's more. I relax as he kisses me.
I am in the calm after the storm. I am blissfully happy and peaceful.
He is back, beside me in bed. We're in love and that's all that
matters.
I love colour and I love him. Maybe Ruskin was right after all. I'm not
pure in the dictionary sense of the word, far from it. I've had too
many boyfriends and late nights out for that! But my mind is pure; I
care, need love and give love - what can be purer than that?