Letters to My Sister (No. 5 Best Laid Plans)

“So when your best laid plans, fold up and die on you…”  The poet Lee.  Remember Lee?  Probably not, you were never too impressed with poetry.  I tried to tell you it were no different to song lyrics, but maybe tis.

It’s really hard to write this, awkwardly lying down in the near dark.  But I just had to write sommat tonight.  You can prolly barely read it, I’ll have to rewrite it in the daylight.  I feel so angry with everythin, and yet so gloomy too.  When I lose my temper, I always feel like I’m being like you, but maybe that int true.

The wind is battering the car.  I’m in the middle of fucking nowhere.  I could die out here.

It keeps pausing and calming, and then another wave of gusts come.  Pounding the roof and whistling round underneath.  I’m kind of cosy, tucked up inside, but it’s chill around my face.  The car rocks every now and then, like a crazy cradle.  When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall.

I’m scared.  My guts are falling out.

I’ve run out of stuff to smoke, and drunk all the beer.  Empty bottles of Black Sheep Bitter where my hope used to be.  The drink and the smoke don’t change owt.  When you’re up you’re up, and when you’re down you’re down.  And fuckin hell Sis, I am down.

Down and out in a Nova on the moors.

I love the fuckin moors.

When I can’t sleep at night, I have to make little promises to myself, to make peace.  Cos when I can’t sleep it is cos I’m at war.  I tell myself little white lies, and in the madness of exhaustion I believe them.  I made a pact with myself that I would tell Erfin we couldn’t be mates no more.  I’m too angry.  I wanna punch him.  I made a pact with myself I would ignore what Fliss said and jus go after Oxo.  And sure as shit he might be another dreg-end, but you jus can’t tell how the cookie’s gonna crumble til it crumbles.

And fuck it Sis, let’s be fair, I might jus get laid and that’ll be good enuff.  Too many cobwebs.

I’ve enuff petrol to get home tomorrow, and no money to buy more.  So I recon the choice has been made for me.  Part of me wants to believe I’ll go back and there will have been some miraculous change.  Erfin will have grown some balls, Oxo will be waiting outside my flat with a pod of good juju (the mellow-good-for-fucking kind), or Fliss will have remembered it’s my birthday and have bought me cookie dough ice cream.

Any of those three would do just nicely, but I know deep in my know, that nowt will have changed.  I will still feel like I’m trying to ice-skate up hill, just to stay happy.  And there will be odd little surprises to keep me smiling.  But tomorrow night, when I can’t sleep, when I miss the road and the storms and the rain…

Nowt about owt Sis.  I’ll give you a ring when I get home, and talk about football (the proper kind).  You should see the state of Forest these days.  Jeez Sis.  Love you, speak soon.

Little Rue xx


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