Read Diary of a Somebody online

Chapters (30)

I nearly forgot about bin day! The distant rumble of the lorry woke me up and I jumped out of bed in horror. I got my bags out just as the bin men were pulling up in front of Mrs McNulty’s house. The Man at Number 29 had his bags neatly stacked outside and awaiting collection.

I went back inside and attempted to write a poem; an exercise in futility, as it turned out, as I was interrupted constantly. Every five minutes or so, I would be forced to check my phone only to discover that – yet again – there was no message from Liz. She kept up this stream of non-communications through the day. It was very infuriating. After many hours of this, I looked down to see the unripened fruits of my labours: a sequence of discarded first lines and no more.

I put them in a drawer where I keep all the abandoned first lines of poems I shall never write. Perhaps one day I shall make a book out of them.

Index of First Lines

Also, I am bleeding profusely so please stay for a while ..........	8
Carter called again today, enquiring of his ladder .....................	22
For that was the winter we listened to Enya ...............................	31
her eyes were a question mark, her mouth a semi-colon ..........	36
I am a bowl, chipped at the rim ....................................................	43
I remembered Newport Pagnell and wept ...................................	5
I see you forgot the fabric softener again ...................................	25
In the vacuum between when and how, I squat ............................	3
Me and you in matching tank tops ...............................................	39
Oi Oi! .............................................................................................	78
Our love is a broken oatcake .......................................................	61
Please don’t do that, it’s disgusting ............................................	27
She loved his unfinished similes like .........................................	52
That, my dear, is a diphthong ........................................................	73
The sky is darkening and yet the dove .........................................	11
Today, we shall make strudel ........................................................	4
Whither the hair tongs? I have seen them not .............................	19

Saturday July 7th

I opened the door to Dylan. Standing next to him was a man clad in Lycra. He looked to be in his late thirties. His jawline was chiselled and his cheekbones delicately planed. He was as healthy as an Alp and wore the look of somebody who knew his way around a velodrome.

‘Brian!’ he exclaimed. ‘Stuart! Stuart Mould!’ He pointed to himself then reached forward and shook my hand before I had the chance to withdraw it. I could sense him taking in my shabby tartan dressing gown and Mr Men mule slippers.

‘Sophie sends her apols but she’s got a few things on – haven’t we all! – and said you wouldn’t mind if I brought Dylan over for once! Sometimes you just gotta be pragmatic! That which works, works!’

He looked at me expectantly for a response. I silently willed him to go away.

‘Err . . . anyway, Bri, I’ve got an eighty-mile bike ride ahead of me! Fundraiser for Syrian orphans! You know how it is! So great to meet you at last! Absolutely love those slippers!’

He bounced off down the path. I went back inside to Dylan.