little adventure.

This early afternoon, a girl called Abi(today casting a scruffy figure in three shades of black and minimal make-up) got up off her bed and went downstairs, prepared to lie that she had done her homework. And she did, and poured herself a mug of coca cola while her dad asked her how her radio show went yesterday. She explained, as had been so, that it wasn't quite as good as last week's, and she wasn't all that good at this thinking on her feet thing. But it was her first show alone, and she had plenty of time to learn. But she was now wondering if this radio thing really was for her. After all, she had always been a thinker rather than a talker, her school report comfirming this.
She told her parents she was going for a walk, and set off out the door, in her converse, as her Mum had binned her scruffy red pumps that she usually wore for her walks. Abi liked walks. She thought of how she would write about her walks in a GSB blog later on that day. She found them kind of soul-cleansing, setting off and not quite knowing where you were going to end up or how you were going to go about getting back, but having no company but an ipod on shuffle and the odd sheep or cow in the feilds either side of the road, or the cars that came past occasionally.
Abi walked up the road. The Killers Exitlude was playing in her ears. She decided she'd visit her Grandad at some point in this walk. And then she turned into the drive leading to the farm, for reasons she would forget later, and wouldn't even know if she knew at the time. She looked through the gate to the paddock, saw it was empty and went back to the road.
She had a half-formed idea that she would turn left at this crossroads, and right at the next, and go to Mill Bank. Once you got there it was a long walk home, unless you simply turned back the way you went. She got to the second crossroads, after having to reluctantly smile at a man in a garden at the roadside who was smiling at her and seemed to want it returned, but there was a car coming from that direction, and for some reason that made her turn left. This would lead her either back home or on an overly familiar route, but she carried on, as there were a couple of much older, more formal-looking walkers coming towards her, and to turn round would look, well, a little stupid.
She climbed a stile into the field she had walked two sides of to get to this point, and walked slowly towards her Mother's horse. It turned to look at her, and continued to stare warmly as she approached it. She reached out to stroke it's nose, at which point it looked past her to the road, and stood still, completely ignoring her.
"Fine then." she muttered, and almost stormed off, jokingly angry. She looked back, and the white horse was still staring to the road. Or the horizon. And carried on towards the gate into the paddock. A few cows, who had been standing nonchalantly and grazing, started to walk towards her, and cows arn't usually freindly. Abi turned round, squared herself and gave them a look that could wither flowers. They stop in thier tracks, looking a little taken aback, and go back to thier grazing or vacantly staring into space. She carried on towards the gate, wondering to herself whether she actually believed that that was going to work before it did. In the paddock, she thougt to herself about how annoyed her Mum would be if she saw the state of Abi's Converse, and webt over to the gate, the area surrounding it void of grass and muddy in the light rain that had been around for a few days straight and looked to be half-heartedly starting up again. She thought better of getting her shoes even more muddy and tried the stile, which had always been hard to get over, and as she tried now decided she didn't want hanging by her ipod headphones, which were now playing My Chemical Romance 'Sleep'. So the gate it was then. Out of the mud and into another field, across grass and under telephone pylons, to the wall, where a stone was propped up against the wall.
She stood there apologetically for about ten seconds, realising she had nothing to do or say now she was here. She thought about the green tub of ashes that was buried just a few inches under the ground, and how she had refused to look at it when her uncle had taken the lid off when she had stood here with her family over a year ago. She thought about saying something, then thought against it. It felt too corny, and a bit forced. And a bit insane. So she simply smiles, waved slightly, then winced and walked away as she felt tears prickle in the corner of her eyes. Besides, some more cows at the bottom of this field were standing up and staring at her, and she didn't want to rest her safety on facial expressions again. 'Sleep' finished and she got out her ipod to quiet the song that sounded insolently loud and fast that had followed it on shuffle, and landed on Led Zeppelin, 'Stairway to Heaven', and kept it on.
She found herself sat on a stack of straw bales, thinking about how spiritual a place the barn was, really. The kind of place that has been there so long that, without being a home, somehow becomes part of you. How it wasn't quiet, and it wasn't peaceful(the bellowing of the cows in thier sheds and the high-pitched angry sounding 'braaawk's of the chickens were to blame for that) but it felt kind of....
Well at that moment, as she sat lipsyncing to "...and as we wind on down the road, our shadows taller than our souls", it felt kind of cinematic. Like whatever was happening right then, it would be a good scene in a movie, it looked pretty well directed, the little birds racing each other round the aincient beams and the chickens pecking at the ground like stereotypical chickens. Abi heard a rumble of what sounded like thunder in the distance. The song ended and she climbed down from the straw bales, down the ladder from the loft, gave the ageing cat a hug and set off home before it began raining too hard.
For reasons unknown, she walked most of the way back to her house with her eyes closed, only openening them breifly every thirty seconds of so to make sure she wasn't about to walk into a wall, or whenever she thought she heard a car.
She got into the house, answered affirmatively to her mother's question of the enjoyment of her walk, and went to resume her position on her bed, to listen to music again, and think about doing homework.
Some time afterwords, she would sit down at the computer and begin typing a blog. No particular reason, she just felt the need to write the events of the afternoon down. She clicked on Add a new blog entry, decided on a title that somehow fit, and began typing about this afternoon's
little adventure.

Early this afternoon, i (today casting a scruffy figure in three shades of black and minimal make-up) got off my bed and went downstairs, prepared to lie that i had done my homework. And i did, then poured myself a mug of coca cola wh


Posted on May 13th, 2007 at 04:08pm


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