A weekend locked-down

PJs.

Cold.

Blanket.

I’ve been nice and toasty — bloody freezing — cosy warm — fucking cold, and all because I sit down, get comfy, and then remember shit.

Catch-up telly.

Movies.

Cleaning.

Putting off sorting out my wardrobe.

Washing my hands.

Being chef’d upon by someone who can chef, who can physically take random out of the cupboard and make a tasty meal.

Eating said chef’d grub.

Doing the washing-up.

Drinking tea.

Sleeping.

Showering.

Avoiding the news, other than the morning and evening round-up.

Video calling.

Regular calling.

Old-style talking without technology.

Texting.

Reading.

Writing.

Re-writing.

Pretend writing.

Deleting every word.

Saying ‘hi’ to my old friend, Blank Page.

Looking out of the window.

Looking at the back of the front door.

Wondering what my car looks like.

Come to think of it, wondering where it’s parked.

Taking my brief locally-sourced exercise to find the car.

Living room concerts.

Learning the words to Sebastian’s smash hit ‘Under the Sea’ *.

Finally finding and sending a meme to Laura that she HASN’T seen!

All in all, not too far from a typical weekend.

Almost an exact copy of one, in fact, except for the meme success and The Little Mermaid.


* I haven’t gone crazy. Well, maybe. I’ve been meaning to learn the words to ‘Under the Sea’ for almost 30 years. You see, I was cast as Sebastian on the playground bill for Neath Welsh Primary’s showing of ‘The Little Mermaid’. It was a funny bone-shaped building within which everyone spoke Welsh, but that doesn’t help explain why 6-or-7-or-so-year-old me didn’t get around to learning the lyrics.

Fortunately, the show didn’t suffer much because it never opened. I don’t exactly know why, we probably got distracted by the blood-smeared walls and floors we could see through the windows of the abandoned school next-door. Now that was a strange occurrence, let me tell you for free. One day, let’s call it a Tuesday, we were sharing our playground with these English speaking kids like we’d been doing for yonks. The next day, on the Wednesday, the kids were gone. Their bags and art-smocks were hanging as nice as you like on hooks in the corridor while their blood smeared the walls and trailed along the floor, over strewn paperwork and books, and around overturned furniture. Our teachers dismissed the red as paint, but the rumour was the kids had been eaten by a poltergeist-type-demon who killed them in their classrooms and dragged them down to the basement. In certain airs, their ghostly laughter echoed before their back-to-class bell tolled. A week or so later, the haunted school was knocked down and up popped a police station.

Of course, I don’t know for sure if that’s the reason why our version of ‘The Little Mermaid’ didn’t go ahead. If it is, it’s a good one. If not, though, whatever the reason may be, I’m still Sebastian with a song to sing, and this song won’t sing itself, I have to learn the lyrics. I have to learn the timings. I have to play ‘Under the Sea’ on repeat.

Tomos James

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