I used to live on a small island off the northern coast of Europe surrounded by the North Sea, Irish Sea and the Atlantic Ocean. It was a quiet island, inhabited by silent dreams, futile relationships and pointless romantic gestures. Invariably it was a cold and wet place with borders, history, pubs, memories, lies, arcane laws, ludicrous accents, wild folk tales and long winters.
Yet it occasionally, when bathed in a rare lemonade shade sun, transformed itself into (an albeit scaled down) version of paradise. Full of summer picnics on the Downs, languid days on the beach and late nights wrapped in the the deep embrace of cheap vodka and expensive perfume.
Pure love was the only thing to strive for and even then you had to be...Lucky.
So, very lucky!
One early spring morning I awoke in my home town (the name of which I have long forgotten) before the frost and milkman had arrived. Sitting down at my chair and loading the sheet of paper into my typewriter I proceeded to write the hundred and one things I loved about Mon Amante.
It was easy, the reasons flew to the page. I finished, showered, dressed and walked to the railway station. She lived about 50 miles away but I'd have to travel via Capital. I bought a 2nd class ticket and boarded the train, heading for the buffet car. Where I ordered 4 slices of hot buttered toast and 4 cans of full strength lager.
Despite it being commuter hour, the train was relatively quiet. I sat back on the smoke backed seat and started breakfast, reading the newspaper I'd found on the seat whilst simultaneously watching the countryside slip by at 60mph and the lager slip down at a no less impressive rate. By the time we reached Capital, I'd topped up twice on the liquid company. The portable tape cassette player I had with me had provided a delightful soundtrack. Sinatra, ACR and Sinatra some more. I double-checked the 101 and then proceeded to write a companion piece of a further 72 reasons that no love in the world had ever existed like this.
An hour later, the train reached Capital and I made my way to the river. Standing next to the obelisk, I wrote 'Lips like Honey' in Paloma Picasso lipstick beneath the Sphinx and took a couple of pictures with my Polaroid™ camera. I then carried along beside the river to the other station. My next train wasn't until midday but the station bar was open. There is nothing more romantic than sitting alone in a station bar, with a pint of lager at 11.01am.
That lager disappeared, the train arrived. A new lager arrived, that train disappeared. My notebook was creased, the words were flow/fly all over the white/lines. I popped out of the station and bought two bottles of Thunderbird Wine. I got on the 1:30 train. I had to arrive before 3:30. The train meandered though the silence of SE Capital. Stopping at all the halts, cuttings and sidings ever invented (and a few more etc...). The train arrived at Destination Central. I left one empty bottle on the seat.
DC's cab rank was empty but the freephone was working. Her address was tattooed on my arm and we'd arrived and I'd paid before I'd even had the chance to ignore the drab town centre, where the pub with the Iron Wheel outside played host to the Indie Disco every third Thursday...
Dropped off 50 yards from her house. sealing the envelope with the 101 reasons + 72 train observations, two sphinx photos, a postcard of a Young Sinatra, a bar of white chocolate and a wrap of speed - I walked up her path. I then gently placed the flowers and bottle of Thunderbird wine behind a big grey flowerpot (obscuring it from the road and the thirsty but in view from the open door). I then slipped the envelope through the letterbox.
The Corporation bus journey back in to Capital was less than eventful, the Sinatra batteries faded and the words waxed, waned and then disappeared completely.
"It happened in.... a long time ago".
Dusk was busying itself amongst the emerging streetlights. I stepped into The Lord Nelson, ordered a full one and asked to use the phone at the end of the bar. I rang her number, she picked up the receiver and the 10p dropped. "Open the door".
I didn't wait for her answer. I was lucky, very lucky...
Even if only for that day! On that small island.
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