Contingencies

Chile

Contingent according to the wonders of online dictionaries has an adjective directly to the weather. As in Our Plans are contingent on the weather. It also holds characterisitcs to liable, chance and accidental.

Within the world of business, contingencies are made incase something goes wrong, it is said to be the step undertaken before you go into crisis management. What wonderful phrases businesses come up with. More nonsense when in actual fact what it comes down to is planning, yes in plain old english, this is planning and organisation.

Contingent by Right

I have noticed that the weather has been a little off beat for 2011 and so lots of contingencies have been happening.

From March Winds in May to April Showers in June this weather holds a grip over something we cannot escape.

The crops lack growth, so much for now...what about the winter?
The rivers are flowing, yet the ground is bone dry in places.
There's vegetables with a poison floating around Europe.
Yet no one's contigency has yet found the source.
In fact contingency went to crisis planning.

Farmer's have had it rough, gardens are borderline, recording code blue.
The contingent, the plan is not to stand and scream, but get on with it.
Those who talk cannot do it, those who can deal with it, get on with it.
When we want to plan our days and it is wet, we put on a water proof and carry on.

Whilst we may complain about the rain, the places we go to take on a whole new attitude and life of there own. Every little hint of conversation and weather, plays a part in how we feel that day. That's why I must go out and have some fun whilst it is wet. Or the photos will never produce, the jobs will never be done and then you might ask, after all that sunshine, are we just going to sit inside and look out the window waiting for the break in the cloud? No, there's more to be done than sit and wait with these intermittent showers.

Crisis -> Contingent-> Planning-> Organisation-> Time Management->

Happy Completed Tasks.

For Writer's Island #23: Contingent

Gott weiss ich will kein Engel sein

(God know's I wouldn't want to be an Angel)
Rammstein Lyrics: Engel

Michael Maier

"The last thing I expected to find was you on the beach front. I've spent ages, literally years walking this earth wondering 'where are you and who are you'"

...your the one who always pops up unwittingly to whisper in my ear that something awaits my final destination, oh is this, is this, have I finally arrived...

"tell me you're for real. Why do you stand with you back to me, I've seen you before, no need to hide. Play, let me listen..."

"No, I don't want to play, this is where I get my peace and quiet, where the world talks back to me, I need to heal too", she says remaining firmly placed on the sand sinking in further. "We rest, the cello, rests, I rest so you see the sea refreshes me."

"Do you want me to go?"
"Just don't come too close, like you I need time off, a person with a gift, a guide to make all of it worthwhile. This is no job for the faint hearted, it's all giving, can you give your whole time without receiving anything in return except for seeing your charges continue to fail. Were not perfect either, that's why I'm here."

I'll just, just sit here and...wait, with you" I said, sheepishly trailing off. Your so happy following around, looking after your charges...why the pain...I wish I could just hold you, make you feel better, it's been too long since our last duet, was it never enough or too much, you haven't lost just need more time...it's very peaceful here...the clouds...the clouds are moving fast, too fast for us, time is washing away like the stones are dragged out to sea, we should go in.
"Yes we should go in, but this is not only the end of the line for you, but for me too, after this I may not have any more charges, you're my last, I've not kept to my good past enough. (Pausing) Come here, just watch and listen. You couldn't begin to imagine the reasons...I'll be a fallen Angel soon, maybe I should just stay here with you."

"We can't go on living in a dream, I'm getting old too."
"Quite, I'm not, well I'm older but I'm the same as when we first met...times past, the clouds we'll keep us company with music from the ocean. Then when I'm clipped I'll play the cello for my own self, look the clouds, they are softening up, it's time, they're going to sleep...I won't be going back".

And with a feigned smile of it'll be alright, they stood and watched.

"They live behind the sunshine
separated from us, infinitely far
they must cling to the stars (very tightly)
so they don't fall from the sky."

"Only once the clouds have gone to sleep can you see us in the sky
we are afraid and alone."

Rammstein Engel - Scala and Kolacny Brothers version

For Writer's Island 2011, No.22.

It's Only A Secret

Lost and Found here

In my office there are no secrets, although everything we do is a secret.

The only way I can describe the fact that, when it was important to tell someone the truth, pull back the curtain, and point to the elephant in the room, was when it was always too late. Some secrets are just best kept. For secrets kept hurt others to profit in the wisdom of power and knowledge over others.

'In the light of day' things can look so much better, but if the 'truth is to set you free' then why keep the secret? When secrets must be kept, it is normal to believe it is for 'the greater good' too many people in the know, too many people realising the truth may lead to unforgivable dilemma's, we can't trust others with these secrets. If we start releasing them who knows how the political, social, economical, technological, moral and ethical landscsape may be adjusted. By revealing your secrets you reduce your upper hand. And just like in cards, they will tumble if you play your hand wrong. "You [after all must] play the hand you're dealt." (C.S. Lewis)

By telling everyone everything the world would be a boring place, it might also be a much safer place. Secrets must be kept, for sometimes to solve a problem what constitutes a violation of "common law" must be thrown out the window in order to stop a greater breach. But, why do we believe we have to sink to such depths, when in all fairness, what we must do is "Keep Talking". After all, we are not James Bond.


BondMusic Allegretto (The girl band not the film series)

---***---
Post Script:
The Secret of this topic, is in plain sight. After saving the above thought, I didn't think about it again until much later in the day when I realised I had summarised a fair chunk of everything I have written across my blog in 2010 and 2011. Please forgive me if I am starting to sound boring.

As with the previous entry, this entry also aims at a possible story. I have this crazy story going around my head, untamed and unknowing where it's going, I have yet to find the words to put it down, mainly because it's running like a film script in my head and requires careful links between the story, it's aim, the music and visual impression I want to give. So much information can be held in little words. For now that story remains my secret.

Whatever you do, don't tell anyone I was here.
Your Secret's safe with me.

For Writer's Island 2011 #10: Secret

Foretell?

I don't foretell anything, but I frequently have feelings which I cannot explain that seem to tell me something is going to happen today. It's like the air smells, an emotion on the waves. Something out of place and what do you know, come the end of the day...something on the news tells of a tragic story, a phone call, a letter.

Well it's all ficticious, it's the case of NLP. Through subliminal ideas and random happenings you come across in the day leads to a topic you were investigating casually. Then come the end of the day all these items turn up in full suit. You don't realise your minds been tricked the whole day.

This NLP training is how much of Derren Brown's tricks work so well.

Derren Brown Art

The only one I yet to understand though is how when reading books and listening to stories...

why do so many characters feel like their talking about me?

Over symplified, empathy, sympathy, narcisstic, searching to feel part of something. I must be completely delusional.

Right? After all I am just an average person in an average world where things aren't allowed to change, just repeat themselves again and again and again.

The Reader (2008) Professor Rohl:
"What we feel isn't important. It's utterly unimportant. The only question is what we do".
"Societies think they operate by morality, but they don't."

Are we ever going to learn from our mistakes or is the foretelling of the end a dead cert?

*With the help of Writer's Island Prompt #8: Foretell

Destiny (for Writers Island)

Bill Frymire

Well it's been a little while since I said to myself I'll write a Happy New Year entry, to myself. In the end I find we are now half way into the month already. Just 50 more weeks until 2012 - boo, wow. Oh dear.

Having spotted Destiny on Writer's Island, I thought, what is my destiny? The reason being it was my birthday this week, and so what does life entail for me. Am I grabbing it by the wings hard enough, probably not. Am I doing what I can in order to grab it by the wings, beginning too.

Whatever my destiny is, some higher power seems to have decided what I'm here for, but I have no clue what triumph I am expected to find in the future, so I have looked back on my successes of the last 10 years. In that time so much has happened, and yet in many ways so little.

From learning to play a musical instrument, knowing enough to pick it up again and not feel the pains as was back some eight years ago when I stopped. I've completed stacks of academic learning, school, undergraduate and postgraduate education. Whilst lacking, the spirit lives on to cycle, and I've ridden for two BHF cycle rides, travelled parts of Europe for music bands and done fieldwork across the UK, France and Malta. I've found so many friends and families, I've met lots of people. And because I'm good with faces (not so much names, sorry) I can place people. (However big the world can feel at times). I am grateful for some of mum's traits too, the ability to talk to anyone on nearly any subject, - much tougher these days for one reason or another- still shy occasionally or feeling too ill or too much on my mind, and abilities to pick up completely random topics, to help a wide range of people. But destiny see, had it's say, and Mum didn't get to see the last nine years of these accomplishments. Well, you never know, the powers that be maybe around, looking down from the sky and watching us.

So many events, and so many memories, from one decade to the next, what will it bring? Having completed a 1/4 to 2/5 of my life, on the national average scale. I better get a grip and start making this decade count just as much as the last one did. Even with the ups and downs, it's already been a journey. The first two and a bit decades are chapters closed although post scripts come along every so often, so let's start living and making the next bit worthwhile.

Tell me, Destiny, where are we going to go today?

Winification Surreal Days

Painful Thoughts?

On Friday the power went off. We've been having particularly strong gales and wet down pours this week and Friday finally saw the power go off. This is by no means uncommon for us when really bad weather hits. Somewhere between the powerstation and here is a weak link, it has regular issues, and is probably not helped by the lack of technical update in the area.

So Friday saw the power out from 1500hr till 1900hr. It made for some interesting times, no heating in the freezing cold (wrap up warm) cooking dinner on a camping stove and the fire box in the lounge newly lit, and lighting the place by candle and torch light.

It made for some interesting bits of time as nothing else could be done, were so plugged into electricity, its almost impossible to do anything without its aid. So with the power out I began to notice the need for keeping life much more real and away from this electrified life style.

According to an article I read today "people spend 'half there waking hours daydreaming'". This is somewhat worrying - how does anything get done? It was also kinda funny in places too although quite serious in retrospect. I certainly found myself daydreaming more and coming back to earth away from the fast paced life that electricity holds over us on Friday.

It's always a bit novel to have no electricity for a little while, makes you stop and think about more real things, tell stories that don't normally happen and make do in a way thats not shown because routine as we know it is taken for granted. (It's a shame it didn't happen on Halloween, it would have been really spooky to sit under candle light telling stories). It's also a shame that we are so unhappy and we set ourselves in a world of day dreaming in an attempt to avoid our tasks.

Well we can't concentrate all the time. What do you do when your lying in bed waiting to drift off to sleep? Thinking about jobs and tasks doesn't set me off to sleep.

Does that mean I'm unhappy when I go to sleep?

*Post Script: Writers Island 'Quandary' happened to fit well to this. It seems I am in a quandary, don't you think?

Halloween Special

1. The Bowler Stag Division

For Michael centuries have passed by, again and again the eternal youth he has possessed has allowed him and his budding carriage to travel across the country. The sounds of a man with well trimmed suit and shoes that grace the floor in a meaningful way, only to be disturbed by the consistent tapping of his umbrella as a walking aid. The larger than life Bowlers hat denotes his authority. Michael, one of the leading Bowler Stags provides services to those who need cleansing from the Poisoned Forest.

In the 16th Century Amptill Forest to the west of London was enjoying its time of infamy with Royal household issues under King Henry VIII and Katherine of Aragon. But with all the normal day to day lives Witch hunts were being carried out too. Therefore all those with powers who were clever enough, hid away living normal lives so as to not be caught. Those who strayed from the line were drowned and burned, but for the few witches and warlocks who knew how, they not only faked death but resurrected to haunt the population, escaping all rituals.

Again and again, sightings of folklore have been recorded, but telling folklore from witches has proven hard. The Bowler Stags, have one key duty, separate the identities of true witches from the folklore and allow the Woods and Forests to be rightfully lead by the Deer once again.

Under darkness, the majority of folklore creatures come out to play. This be the time for when Bowler Stags are most alert at their duties. Here tonight before Halloween sets in the Bowler Stags are meeting up, the first time in over 200 years. The meeting would not have been called if it was not for the Emperor's death in Devon. The 'Emperor of Exmoor' slained by locals on a hunt, died on the clearest nights with the full moon bearing down on him. Due to the Emperor's untimely death and the reawakening of the spell makers within the Poisoned Forest, the Bowler Stags must find out who would gain.

Well, for one thing the witches and warlocks that are hidden away. As soon as word spread of the Emperor's death by the Green Men call, a rapid assembly of all creatures gathering within Thetford Forest began. Across the country from the Lancashire Hills, The Black Dog is said to have been seen heading on down to Exmoor, first dropping in on Amptill Forest nudging any co-conspirator in the wrong direction for his own solitary humour but more importantly for his own safety, he must remain hidden, for he now remains the most illusive and most powerful creature to walk the land, remaining as his own authority over the land.

The Emperor of Exmoor had held control over the Forests for longer than any Red Deer before him. The sole leader of the whole tribe for 25 years fell to the ground leaving a space for authority and the beginning of an early contest for the next Emperor, however with the Witching Hour upon the country, the potential for anarchy with no real authority may lead to the Witches and Warlocks taking control of the Forests.

The Black Dog, well aware of this goes in place to calm and send order, guiding creatures to their 'rational' locations, harbouring any potential information for the Bowler Stags meet. He sits and looks out across Lyme Regis, an old haunting site of his, before heading back north for Exmoor.

The Bowler Stags meanwhile attempt to call order on what will be a 400 year old test, who rules the Forests? The spell makers from the Poisoned Forest (otherwise known as Amptill Forest) or a new Emperor who would need to command order and impose the long standing law on any of the spell makers of Amptill Forest.

2. The Merchants of Umbrella's

Behind each umbrella lies a terrifying story of when it was last opened drowning in sorrow, carried upside down or felt ridiculed by the fact it wasn't given authority. Umbrella's are just object's aren't they? Well no, in each they hold a small potent creature waiting to jump out and become the new leader of the territory, The Merchant. The Merchant is the Umbrella that rules all other Umbrella's, but no one really knows of the Umbrella's true powers, long forgotten and hidden away, they have laid dormant. Every time they are opened inside a house the creature, acting as a parasite on the Umbrella, releases it's potion, sending untold bad luck upon the house.

But now, the parasitic creatures within have sided with the Poisoned Forest. The Merchant couldn't resist the powers he could unleash, and now stands proud floating in readiness to take control. His true wish: to undermine the witches and rule over all the land once and for all. His best and most powerful secret is that they have been forgotten, each and every person has an Umbrella these days, even the dearest Orpheline, a Witch crossed with Vampire desires and one who holds the key to the Poisoned Forest at Amptill - The Merchant could rule the land if Orpheline finally perished.

Orpheline

Due to her Witching powers and Vampire stripes, removed from the norms of the magical and the blood suckers that be, she has acquired the name Orpheline. Through the woods she wanders crying and whimpering, bringing the unwary into her beautiful sight before sucking them dry or sending them back out to hunt for more blood. Quite a timid Witch, she uses her beauty and passion to lure in her victims, reducing the need to use magic to the hardest catches before setting her victims up for their doom. In one infatuating kiss her victim falls to the ground starving of blood. Orpheline does not like to hurt her victims and cradles them back to health, converting the victimised Elf, creature or passing human. However, hard she tries to be nice, she knows that she will have made another victim. Sometimes hoping that her plan will fail and the Bowler Stags will cure them.

But in recent weeks she's found out about the creatures in the Umbrella's, for she caught one and has held it in possession, attempting to draw The Merchant to her.
Now she wants The Merchant under her control, that way she'll be able to take down the Bowler Stags, and bring down all the Folklore Creatures under her command. Just one would remain elusive but would soon be turned over to be her pet, The Black Dog, for he gave her the name and the Poisoned Forest to live in. The Black Dog, guided her to safety and now Orpheline wants all the creatures under her command for damming her to eternal loneliness, eternal beauty without anyone and no pets, just the powers to control all around her, so many creatures are scared of her and remain away from Orpheline, she wants her new found pet friend, The Black Dog, to come home and play with her, forever.


All that Orpheline really wants is freedom to roam, but she knows of too many ghosts and spirits, the Fairies fly away warning others of her presence, the Devil of Croydon Hill comes from Rodhuish when no feast is available to howl in the nights scaring Orpheline into starting fires commanding the stars to burn the Devil of Croydon Hill's path. Alas, she set light to an old favourite monument of hers, The Hasting Pier. Not the first time that someones attempted to escape her powers on to Piers, a number have gone up in smoke over the years.

Hastings Pier

3. The Black Dog

Back in the day, suspected Witches and Warlocks were drowned, on there resurrection burned. For a normal human would not survive a dunking. Either way, once suspected you were sent to your death. In Chadlington, a Hawk stone exists where those who survived drowning would be chained up ready to be burned.


Orpheline having lived out in the southern parts of the land didn't care much to where she travelled in the past, but on one unfortunate attempt was caught and taken to Chadlington, however, she was transported via a small village of Chipping Norton where a Vicar took a liking to her, no less through her seductive powers, the man of God soon forgave her sins and left the chains to the Hawkstone undone as the fire began, the watching crowd were never seen again.

Orpheline escaped unharmed, but soon bumped into The Black Dog, and as they say the rest is history.

The Black Dog carried on from Exmoor during the day and into the night, with having seen the sight of where The Emperor had fallen to Thetford Forest. His abilities to travel far copiously unchallenged by the size of his stride and pace.


Now that Orpheline was on the hunt for not only The Black Dog and the The Merchant, The Merchant was attempting to play his own game and finally remove Orpheline, although the Bowler Stags an unbiased authority in all their powers would have to work hard to not just have a final ousting of the more powerful Witches and Merchants in Waiting but place a control over all the creatures allowing the Deer to unite under one new Emperor. The Bowler Stags however, even with there most knowledgeable capabilities did not know that The Merchants were still alive, and the one in Michael's hand was relaying all sorts of important information about how the the Bowler Stags would push for authority.

Their position was simple oust Orpheline with the help of The Black Dog and push her back into the Poisoned Forest.

Whilst this was more than capable, Orpheline's trade mark was gradually spreading, over recent months not only had she left a trail of destruction behind, she sat and cried out yelling at the Devil of Croydon Hill to stop chasing her. Orpherline, had headed to Theford Forest picking up the scent no Emperor was in charge. She had at once begun to suck dry many a creature. The Bowler Stags, only had to locate her and cleanse those she did not finish off once and for all.

But whilst this may have been all to easy, The Black Dog locating her and dragging her out of Thetford, banishing her back to Amptill Forest, The Merchant, had turned his head.

Orpheline and The Merchant both thought they had the upper hand, she lead the Merchants in Waiting down on to Salisbury Plain. The Black Dog witnessed every last detail from Stone Henge. Creature after creature that had waited within an Umbrella was swiftly sucked dry, her anticipation for so much blood was impossible to control. The Merchant, thinking he had struck gold sudden found The Black Dog gradually coming up to him in the mist. To the other side row upon row of Bowler Stags emerged, Michael ahead of them all heading straight to one point. The Merchant, hovering directly over Stone Henge awaiting the Full Moon for his parasitic underlings to flourish into full blown werewolves before the sun rose, burning into everyone. The Merchant hoping to place Orpheline as a sacrifice in the centre, willing her to come to him. A new Megalithic Passage Tomb would be made for her, so that she could never be freed and eternally burned by direct sunlight on Solstices.


The only question was, who would be there first. Orpheline, the Bowler Stags or The Black Dog. The Bowler Stags still unaware of The Merchants know how, proceeded. The Green Men signalling where Orpheline had been, The Black Dog tracking her home. Those in Thetford Forest, petrified, but protected in mass by Bowler Stags and Deer, Deer beginning to fight for the Emperor authority. Deer that were gradually poisoned in Amptill. Deer which had been targeted by parasitic creatures of The Merchant.

4. The Emperor

With The Merchant being handled by The Bowler Stags, bringing on swirling mists and relinquishing creatures from parasitic control. Orpheline had turned her attention towards The Black Dog, for whilst she may have stopped the land and all Forests from being taken over by The Merchants in someways saving the Deer, her own plans were only just unravelling. Striking potions down upon creatures, her attention was focussed on The Black Dog. She wanted her pet, without hesitation she swapped from the lust of magic and blood she saw turning towards her more emphatic side. Practically wooing on her pet to come closer. The mist gradually thickening and the leading Stag from each Deer tribe approaching Salisbury Plain in an attempt to solve who will be the next great leader. She provided that quiet sultry sound, beckoning all those in ear reach, to the core of their bodies to look at her.

But The Black Dog knew better, an independent higher power over all the land himself and elder of all creatures, he just looked at her and said "I'll see you when I see you", and through the mist vanished again. Orpheline, not content attempting to call louder found herself with Thee Bowler Stag and a number of Deer around her. Was she in control of all, or were they just looking on?

One Deer looking out from the top of the hillside, called down the Deer leaving her side, the Bowler Stag leader just pointed in the direction of her home, hoping that he wouldn't have to use force. He knew all to well that she wanted to be freed, but it wouldn't be until the new Emperor saw fit, acknowledging that she would one day it would come, but only when she could control both her powers and her fire-ry temper. Until then she remained in authority over all Witches and Warlocks that had escaped the Witch Hunt forever residing in Amptill Forest.

In the mean time normality resumes, a new Emperor, The Emperor of Exmoor, and enough mishaps to keep the uninitiated humans on there toes, how so they didn't understand ghosts, witches and the presence of so many creatures living on, leaving trails, but none the less, with a Full Moon out tonight an extra stash of missing persons, sightings and werewolves praying for food. For on Halloween, all the land awake, a brilliant time to bring those strange stories back to the real world. But still The Emperor knows they won't be noticed, any paranormal activity and sightings placed under illusion. Orpheline may just be allowed a free reign after all, tonight, plenty of chances to scare some locals with that burning look of lust she brings to the area. Yet timid and yet playful like a child, but always dangerous, appearing and disappearing before you realise, she's taken you in.

Ashes of the Innocent

Nocturna

--
Photos with Thanks to BBC Pictures, Christopher Tomas, George Grie, Nathalia Suellen/Lady Symphonia, Rammstein Footage and Winification. Some of my own photos are also in here too.

Emerge Writers Island Prompt

The surreal art always allows me to comprehend old ideas with a new perspective. I enjoy looking and interpreting these sorts of images because they can mean sso much more than the stated obvious. Here below for Writers Island Prompt Emerge is one of the photos given out by Winification.Whilst I'm by no means an artist, I believe this collection to not be from Rene Magritte however lots of Apples, Pipes and people with no heads (occasionally replaced with fruit) exist within the collection; somewhat similar, maybe Magritte was inspiration.

When I got to the end I realised I had elucidated on another theme as well. John Le Carre's George Smiley, such a cliche: "When he watches he listens, he listen's with his eyes...", it deserves a slap on the wrist.

From Winification

***
Whilst you may all look the same and be the same, operating as one group,

you are all individual recalling your true selves from behind the mask.

Bringing with you the entirety of the powers from above,
the worlds have power far greater than any of us can handle.

Three beautiful masks hide those powers, we wait endlessly for replys to our wishes, but it turns out our three Queens have sent there Servants or is that just another illusion, they were really just hiding in someone elses skin.

Standing in clouds we wait, the diplomatic relations between our two worlds, you the power and us the servants. We don't want to upset the Planets. Even though you are all very different without your masks, you are still here for one task. Young and old, agile and frail you wish to find out what it takes to be eternally appealing.

Turning your backs to the old ways, revealing yourselves, the reality is you stand proud of your achievements but you no longer wish to remain acting as false planetary gods. Standing dressed as Servants are you now wishing for us to show you the way now that you have revealed yourselves? Or are you actually just wishing for guidance, repentence, the next step...the next face off?

Tell me, what are you looking out at? Because, if your eyes are so unblinkered, why is there all this mist before you? Swirling poisioned gases above and throthy sea water beneath. What are we all waiting for to emerge from this stand off?

Join us as equals, or join our setting in stone sacrifice, we will paint you beautiful forever, we can be free from this illusion you have laid down on us and start afresh, (together).
***

Envision: For Writers Island

The black and white of life that is covered over my eyes stops me from seeing the colours which really exist when I open them.

The image reminds me all the more of The Committed Man story I wrote some while back. I often wonder if he ever managed to make it to freedom, remember what was truly out there. Unfortunately I doubt it for when you read it you’ll realise he had a number of illnesses, was he an alcoholic stuck, did he have Alzheimer’s, or was he just so old and fed up he wanted to be alone in that rotting room.

If only he could see the colour, lift the veil and see just how much he was missing, he most certainly would have wanted to, but then his vision was always waiting for his daughter to come back home. We only find out the full horror’s of what’s happened to this man’s life when she points out the reality of the situation in Part 2. Whose envision do we want? Who do we want to make feel better – the old man, or the lady who appears as Nurse and Daughter? Whilst we can still think straight we should all hold out, enjoy what we do and hope the wool, is not being pulled over our eyes by a slowly debilitating disease.

Maybe we should all envision a better future where everything makes complete sense and we are able to open our eyes to the truly colourful and beautiful world beyond this cloth we are all blinded by.

So many times we are blinded by our own unwitting stupidity, we should all pay more attention to the details however big or small they are and gain a better understanding for our future.

If Only I'd... Writers Island Prompt

If only I'd said something sooner I wouldn't have this predicament. Looking back on the year I find myself wondering exactly where it has gone, another 12 months of my life have been taken away. I frequently look back and say if only I had done x, y or z.

Yesterday I drove home, if only I hadn't listened to the radio, if only it hadn't rained at the Birmingham motorway service southbound on the M6. There I was having driven out of Manchester, an hour and half later I sat eating lunch with none other than music from Rent: Seasons of Love on the radio. You can often look back and say if only, but if you don't do something about your thoughts then what's the point on having that grief or happiness as you leave.

I find music often makes whatever emotions I am trying to hide come to the surface and often I find that the music I listen to takes me back to a past time. It's like reliving a memory, but so often in my state; nightmares are unleashed and all I wish for is to forget such memories. But I am forced to remember the pain of the past. Would it be a good thing if a machine really existed to wipe our memories of specific items (re: Eternal Sunshine of a Spotless Mind, 2004).

• There I sat eating lunch, the cold weather moving in, the rain increasing everything reminded me of journeys as a child to visit my grandmother in Loughborough. The smell in the air, the horrible clingy cold damp, the road trip, the food.

• I may say if only, but really, all I have to do is talk to you and see those big blue eyes and I can tell...you're looking straight into my soul; pulling out my hidden thoughts. If only I could hide them from you. But you knew; I knew you knew, if only we had said something at the time. Alas, I know its not meant to be...It doesn't matter. Mañana...tomorrows another day for all those if only's. Just for today, take the adventure with me.

If only I had done what it said on the tin,
If only I wasn't such a pain as a child to my parents,
If only I had cashed the cheque in time,
If only the bus wasn't late,
If only I had said something to that girl I met,
If only I had behaved that one day,
If only...if only you...if only I...if only...
It doesn't matter.