As I finished playing I looked across to where Niamh and the two men were sitting and the older guy started to clap as he got up from the chair he nodded towards me and then smiled in Niamh’s direction and made his way back across the room to the open doorway, he turned and waved as he left the room. My first thoughts were that the younger man sitting next to Niamh, his face was quite familiar and I couldn’t quite place where I had seen him before, but then I thought that it was Matthew, Niamh’s business partner. How wrong could I have been on that one.
My nerves were beginning to subside, Niamh waved her hand in the air, and she beckoned me over.
‘Bea, this is someone that I would like you to meet. Well, you’re going to be working together later tonight, so I may as well introduce the pair of you to each other before you get started.’
I moved towards the chairs where both Niamh and the younger man were seated. As I did so they both stood up.
‘Bea, this is Riccardo Perrini.’ Niamh spoke to us in a schoolmarmish tone as if we were naughty school children ‘and Riccardo, this is Bea. Bea is going to be replacing Paula at tonight’s show.’
‘Oh my gosh.’ I stammered, now everything fell into place, ‘you’re the actor.’ My mouth was wide open, I think my eyes must have been popping out on stalks.
'Yes,’ he replied. He held his hand out and gently took hold of my own as if to shake it but instead turned it over and gently brushed his lips against the back of it as he raised it towards his lips.
He stood in front of me wearing dark blue jeans and trainers, a marl grey coloured cotton top and a stonewashed blue denim jeans jacket. His dark hair was tousled around his head and his eyes were dark brown with long lashes. Girls would kill to have eyelashes as long as his. His skin was olive coloured and smooth with just a touch of designer stubble around his jawline. His smile was perfect, he was like a model from a magazine. He smiled at me and I just melted inside.
My hands suddenly started to shake and the nerves started to kick in big time. I knew I had a chance to prove myself on this one occasion and I had to try to remain calm, it was a chance that I didn’t want to throw away, but I could feel the muscles in my arms tensing up and my legs felt like lead and jelly all at the same time. I felt as if I was going to faint, but in the back of my mind I was going to throttle Arty for this on Monday morning when I got back to work, he must have been aware of what was going to happen.
Riccardo sat back down on the chair and I went back to the little stage that had been set up for me. I continued playing with a piece entitled “Humoresque” which really is a joy to play and once I relaxed I found that the notes flowed freely and smoothly. My mind was racing, trying to concentrate at that point was almost impossible but somehow I managed to hold myself together when in reality I just wanted to fall apart. As I finished playing, both Niamh and Riccardo raised their hands and applauded me loudly. It was all a bit surreal and I really couldn’t believe what was happening.
I calmly walked across to the table and took a quick swig (well it was more like a rather large gulp) of the champagne from my glass and then prepared myself to play again. I was hoping that the bubble rush from the cool fizzy liquid would give me a bit of Dutch courage so that I could carry on playing because in a strange way as nerve wracking as it was, I was really enjoying myself.
‘Bea, would you play some guitar for us now?’ Niamh asked.
‘Yes, of course’ I replied, ‘What would you like me to play?’
‘Anything of your choosing, would be fine,’ Riccardo said,
I glanced sideways outside the window, ‘It’s such a beautiful day,’ I said. With guitar in place I sat myself down in a comfortable position on the stool and balanced the guitar across my knee and played a medley of popular tunes. Niamh and Riccardo must have enjoyed what I played as they were quietly singing along as I was playing.
As I finished playing I looked up and Riccardo was looking directly into my eyes almost as though he was looking into my soul, making it harder for me to concentrate on what I was supposed to be doing.
I sat and rested my arms across the top of the guitar, although I nearly dropped it when Niamh told me what would happen next, how I stopped my mouth from hitting the deck I will never know. I was completely flabbergasted and speechless for what seemed like ages afterwards even though it was only a few seconds.
When I finally, caught my breath, I hopped off the stool and placed my guitar back into it’s case and fastened the latches.
‘Here let me help you.’ Riccardo said, grabbing the case from me. It was heavier than he had anticipated and his body lurched to catch its weight.
‘Thank you, Riccardo. That’s very kind of you.’ I told him.
‘Not a problem. I’m only too pleased to able to help. Oh, and please call me Ricky, everyone else does, it’s only the Management who refer to me as Riccardo.’ He said nodding his head in Niamh’s direction.
‘Bea,’ Niamh called over to me again and both Ricky and myself walked towards the spot where Niamh was standing.
‘Yes, Niamh.’ I replied.
‘Bea, we’d like you to open Ricky’s show tonight. Do you think you would be able to do that?’ she asked.
I hesitated, as I said earlier on my mind was racing, now it was positively going into overdrive. ‘Erm......yes,’ I replied, ‘Oh my god, but I have nothing to wear, I only have my tatty jeans.’
‘Don’t worry about that you will look great.’ Ricky told me.
I just looked from Ricky to Niamh and back to Ricky, he had an amazing cheek and jaw bone structure and I could see why women of all ages loved him. As for me, he was gorgeous to look at but not really my type. I seem to have an attraction towards guys with blonde hair and blue eyes.
Although I have to say that every time he smiled at me, my heart rate shot up a little higher.
Niamh looked down at her watch.
‘It’s nearly four o’clock, Riccardo. Time to wrap up this session because the time is getting on and we have to go. Your car is waiting to take you up to the television studios.’ She said, she turned towards me and continued, ‘Bea, thank you for coming to play for us this afternoon at such short notice, a car will come to your hotel to collect you at 5.30pm and take you to the Arena for the concert this evening. Security on the gate will issue a pass for you. I look forward to seeing you later this evening.’
‘Thank you for giving me wonderful this opportunity Niamh,’ I said as I carried the violin case back to the reception area and Ricky followed behind us with the guitar case.
When we got back to the hotel lobby, Niamh went to the reception desk and arranged for a taxi to collect me and take me back to my hotel. Ricky placed the guitar case on the floor, grabbed my free hand and pulled me in towards him and brushed his lips gently against my left cheek and I could feel his warm breath on my face.
‘See you later then, Bea.’ he whispered. He let go of my hand and followed Niamh to the car which was waiting outside to whisk him away to the studios for a television interview.
Friday 16 November 2012
Tuesday 23 October 2012
The Bea Project - Chapter 9
The taxi pulled up outside the Lowry hotel and the driver got out, walked around to the passenger side of the car and opened the door for me, he then went to the back of the car and removed my baggage from the boot and placed the guitar case at my feet and handed the violin case to me as I handed him a fiver in return to cover my fare. I picked up the guitar and wandered through the hotel lobby to the reception desk.
A young receptionist named Hayley approached me ‘Can I help you?’ she asked.
‘Yes,’ I replied, ‘I have a meeting at two o’clock with Niamh Pedersen.’
Hayley looked down a list which was placed on the desk in front of her, she looked up nodding her head at me ‘Yes Miss Lovett, please would you take a seat over there and I will ring Miss Pedersen and let her know that you are waiting in the hotel lobby.’
A few minutes passed and a well-dressed woman in her late thirties wandered up to me ‘Are you Bea?’ she smiled as she extended her hand towards me.
‘Yes, that’s me.’ I replied and grabbed her hand and shook it firmly.
‘Hello,’ she said warmly, ‘my name is Niamh Pedersen, but you can call me Niamh. Bea, please come with me.’
I followed her through the hotel lobby and up to the Mezzanine Bar which was buzzing and alive with people chattering and generally enjoying themselves on a lovely warm summery afternoon.
‘Bea, would you like a glass of champagne, or a refreshing soft drink or maybe something else?’ she asked.
‘Ooh, a glass of champagne would be just fine.’ I replied.
‘You know, Arty promised me ages ago that he would be able to do this performance as a favour to my business partner and his nephew, Matthew. From what I can understand that he was quite upset when he realised that he wouldn’t be able to fulfill this opportunity. He has ensured me that you have what it takes to make the mark and you will be able step up to the plate. I am looking forward to working with you now and hopefully at some point in the future.’ She told me.
She then tried to hand me the glass of chilled champagne but quickly realised that I didn’t have a third hand, so she carried the drinks through to another room which was to the side of the bar overlooking the river at the back of the hotel, and I quickly followed.
Niamh put the drinks down on the table and handed a glass to me which I took from her when I had put my guitar case down. I took a sip of the cool fizzy champagne from the glass, the bubbles gave me the weirdest sensation as I could feel the bubbles rising in the back of my throat and almost spiralling back down my nose and they almost made me sneeze.
I placed the violin on top of the table next to my glass and released both catches, opened the lid and pulled the instrument and bow out from the blue velvet lined case. I plucked a couple of the strings before resting it under my chin on a black silk cloth and rubbing my bow gently over the strings. I walked over towards the back of the room where there was a tiny plinth of a stage and stood in front of Niamh who was by then sitting down next to two hunky looking guys and watching my every move. I started to play a few bars of “Summer” from The Four Seasons written by Vivaldi. An enjoyable piece of music, if you have never heard it I suggest you go and listen to it and enjoy instead of me telling you how great it is.
Saturday 13 October 2012
The Bea Project - Chapter 8
I awoke on Saturday morning with a bit of a start, I looked over to the clock it was ten past nine. Although I’d slept quite soundly, I’d woken up just a little bit before the alarm had gone off. I am usually such an early bird, so to have a bit of a lie-in was a luxury for me. I decided get up, go and have a leisurely breakfast and then come back and sort through the stuff that I would be taking with me today. I knew I didn’t have time to go and shop because I knew that I would miss my appointment. Typical girl me, like to go shopping and browse at everything before I make my mind up and I usually end back up in the very first shop I started in. I could feel my nerves kicking in a little tiny bit.
When I’d finished fiddling (pardon the pun) with everything that I could fiddle with the time was fast approaching ten past twelve. I went downstairs to the hotel bar and grabbed myself a quick bite to eat and a drink and thought that I had better get my skates otherwise I wouldn’t be ready or even at the venue on time, and I really didn’t want to be late, that wouldn’t have made a very good impression would it.
I had a quick shower and threw on a clean pair of jeans, and my floral cotton top and tied my hair up into a double knot with the aid of an elasticated hair scrunchie. I slipped my bare feet into my red canvas pumps. I dusted my face sparingly with a minimal amount of blusher, applied some black long lash mascara, moistened my lips with just a tiny touch of lipgloss and squirted perfume around my pulse points. I grabbed my blue denim jacket, my handbag, picked up the guitar and my violin and went downstairs to the hotel lobby. I asked Jaden on the reception desk if he could order a taxi for me to take me over to The Lowry Hotel.
‘Sure, no problem.‘ He replied. He picked up the telephone and dialled for a taxi, he asked if a taxi could be sent to the hotel for Ms. Lovett. He replaced the receiver and called me back to the desk ‘Ahem, Ms Lovett. Your car will be here within the next five minutes.’
‘Thank you Jaden.‘ I responded.
I waited just outside the hotel lobby for the car to arrive, it was a very warm and pleasant day and the sun was shining. Exactly five minutes later a car pulled up and the driver wound his window down and called my name.
‘Miss Lovett?’ He looked me up and down inquisitively.
‘Yes,’ I replied, ‘that’s me.’
‘Okay,’ the driver said getting out of the car, ‘let me help you with those cases, Ms. Lovett.’
He got out of the car and opened the car boot and placed both my cases carefully inside. I opened the door on the passenger side and got into the car, the driver got back in and we started to move towards the exit out of the hotel car park.
‘So, where are we headed today then, Ms Lovett?’ the driver asked me as he turned the steering wheel to guide the car out of the exit gate.
‘The Lowry Hotel, please.’ I replied.
Again the Lowry hotel was only a stone’s throw away but because the two cases were difficult to walk with, and because it was so hot I really didn’t want to arrive at the venue all disheveled and sweaty, that wouldn’t have been a very good look.
When I’d finished fiddling (pardon the pun) with everything that I could fiddle with the time was fast approaching ten past twelve. I went downstairs to the hotel bar and grabbed myself a quick bite to eat and a drink and thought that I had better get my skates otherwise I wouldn’t be ready or even at the venue on time, and I really didn’t want to be late, that wouldn’t have made a very good impression would it.
I had a quick shower and threw on a clean pair of jeans, and my floral cotton top and tied my hair up into a double knot with the aid of an elasticated hair scrunchie. I slipped my bare feet into my red canvas pumps. I dusted my face sparingly with a minimal amount of blusher, applied some black long lash mascara, moistened my lips with just a tiny touch of lipgloss and squirted perfume around my pulse points. I grabbed my blue denim jacket, my handbag, picked up the guitar and my violin and went downstairs to the hotel lobby. I asked Jaden on the reception desk if he could order a taxi for me to take me over to The Lowry Hotel.
‘Sure, no problem.‘ He replied. He picked up the telephone and dialled for a taxi, he asked if a taxi could be sent to the hotel for Ms. Lovett. He replaced the receiver and called me back to the desk ‘Ahem, Ms Lovett. Your car will be here within the next five minutes.’
‘Thank you Jaden.‘ I responded.
I waited just outside the hotel lobby for the car to arrive, it was a very warm and pleasant day and the sun was shining. Exactly five minutes later a car pulled up and the driver wound his window down and called my name.
‘Miss Lovett?’ He looked me up and down inquisitively.
‘Yes,’ I replied, ‘that’s me.’
‘Okay,’ the driver said getting out of the car, ‘let me help you with those cases, Ms. Lovett.’
He got out of the car and opened the car boot and placed both my cases carefully inside. I opened the door on the passenger side and got into the car, the driver got back in and we started to move towards the exit out of the hotel car park.
‘So, where are we headed today then, Ms Lovett?’ the driver asked me as he turned the steering wheel to guide the car out of the exit gate.
‘The Lowry Hotel, please.’ I replied.
Again the Lowry hotel was only a stone’s throw away but because the two cases were difficult to walk with, and because it was so hot I really didn’t want to arrive at the venue all disheveled and sweaty, that wouldn’t have been a very good look.
Friday 5 October 2012
The Bea Project - Chapter 7
Friday morning arrived and as I was putting the last little bits and bobs into my handbag and scraping my hair into a topknot, and Dexter bless him, popped his head around my bedroom door and offered me a lift to Swindon Train Station in his old banger of a car, he promised me that it would be quicker than waiting for a bus. Dexter’s car is so old that sometimes it doesn’t always fire up and start first time and it does have the odd occasional tendency to conk out completely at the most inconvenient moment, but I agreed to a lift and we set off through the sleepy villages of the Cotswolds just a little bit earlier than I had originally anticipated just in case something went wrong and I missed the fast train to London Paddington.
As we arrived at the mainline station in Swindon I got out of the car and opened the back door, lugged my guitar case along with my suitcase off the back seat and slammed the back door shut.
Dexter called after me, ‘Enjoy your weekend, Sis. Call me if you need me or let me know what time you intend coming back home on Sunday and I will drive down and collect you it’s no trouble, honestly.’
‘Okay, I will’ I mouthed back ‘See you Sunday. MWAH!’
I made my way into the station and looked up at the train departure boards, found the platform from which my train would be departing. I also noticed that I had a good ten minutes to spare. My suitcase was quite heavy as I had managed to squish my violin case into it on top of my clothes, good job it was on wheels. My guitar case was quite light compared to the weight in the suitcase. I had visions of my arms being twice as long by the end of the day, trailing around in Manchester like some sort of monkey or ape.
An announcement was made over the station tennoy that the train for London Paddington was now pulling into the platform and that all the passengers were to stand clear of the platform edge until the train had come to a complete stop.
I boarded the train and found my seat and made myself comfortable, sat back and enjoyed the ride. I watched the scenery change as the train picked up speed and we travelled through the rural countryside and eventually raced along the tracks into the built up residential areas of the City. Soon enough the train was pulling into London Paddington. This is where I had to get on the underground train and go around to London Euston on the circle line before boarding the express train for Manchester, my final destination. It was an easy journey, with no delays or hold ups. I listened to the music on my iPod and my mind drifted with the rhythm of the train as it made it’s way swiftly up to Manchester in the north of England.
The train arrived at Manchester Piccadilly Station just before three thirty in the afternoon. I got off the train with all my baggage in tow and made my way to the station forecourt, hailed a cab to take me to my hotel which was supposedly just less than one hundred yards up the road from the Station. When i arrived at the hotel I got out and paid the driver but as I was doing so a crowd of six or seven girls were walking past me and one of them stopped, turned around and called my name.
‘Bea?’ she cried as she walked back towards me smiling.
‘Bea Lovett is it really you?’
‘Katy!’ I replied, ‘Crikey, I haven’t seen you for gosh, oh at least seven years. How are you?’
‘Yep, it’s me.’ She replied ‘I’ve only just returned to the UK. I’m up here for a weekend with my girlfriends. We’re all going to a concert at the Arena tomorrow night. What are you doing up this way then?’ she spotted the silver guitar case, well you couldn’t be off it really.
‘Well, I’m doing a musical show case here in Manchester tomorrow afternoon and it was better for me to travel up today and be bright eyed and bushy tailed ready for tomorrow.” I told her.
She dipped her hand into her handbag, pulled out a business card and handed it to me.
‘Bea, call me, it would be good to catch up with you at some point. I shall be back home in London next Wednesday.’ Then she ran to catch up with her friends, who had walked on ahead of her.
I picked up my case and guitar and walked into the hotel, made my way to the check-in desk and gave the young man on the desk my name. He tapped some details into a computer and produced a keycard for me to use whilst I was staying at the hotel. He also asked me if I wanted to book a table for dinner that evening, I told him that a table for 7.30pm would be great if they could find me a table around that time and he said it was not a problem. I had decided earlier on the train that it would be easier for me if I ate at the hotel restaurant later in the evening, because I was beginning to feel tired after such a long journey.
I took the lift up to the fourth floor and used the keycard to enter the room, it was a basic room but it still quite cosy and was to be my home for the next couple of nights. I unpacked my case and flopped down on the bed and flicked through the programs on the television using the remote control. I flicked the TV off again and wandered across the room to look out of the window, well at least I had a decent view of the City. I stood there for ages looking at the different architectural structures and just daydreaming really. Eventually I trotted off to the bathroom to have a shower and freshen myself up before I went down to the restaurant for dinner.
I returned to my room after dinner and pulled my mobile phone out of my pocket and made a quick call to my Mum to let her know that I had arrived safely and was now tucked away for the night and yes the door was locked on the double latch, so that the bogie man couldn’t come and take me away at midnight.
At ten o’clock I was falling asleep so I decided it would be best if I went to bed and got some decent shuteye. I got myself undressed, cleaned my teeth, washed my face and brushed my hair. Set the alarm for the morning and snuggled down onto the bed with the cool white cotton sheet draped around my body and I slowly drifted off into a lovely peaceful slumber.
The Bea Project - Chapter 6
When I got home I went up to my room and changed my clothing, I put on a pair of denim shorts and a slouchy T-shirt top and went and sat in the garden with my Mum, Dad and Dexter. The weather had been hot for the last few days, and although it was cooling down now it was still nice to sit in the garden and relax with a glass of something white, nicely crisp and chilled.
Dexter had come to stay with Mum and Dad for a few days, I was pleased that he was as I had a few things that needed to be sorted out before tomorrow and he was the ideal person to help me.
Mum had prepared a dinner which consisted of ham and egg salad with strawberries and cream to follow. It was scrumptious, and slimming too. We sat under the shade of the big oak tree and chatted about the day whilst we ate our dinner.
My Mum was so excited this evening and took great delight in telling us all about her earlier visit to see the new baby, Harry. She did go on about how much he looked like Amy when she was first born. Poor kid, I thought.
It was such a lovely evening, Dexter and myself decided to shatter the neighbours peace by making some noise and had a bit of a jamming session, he on the guitar and myself on the fiddle, started with a little bit of Paganini and progressed through my favourite classical pieces ending up with some modern pieces from Jason Mraz and ending up with Katy Perry. We played until the sun dropped over the edge of the horizon, it was fun to play with Dexter too.
When the dusk rolled in I said Goodnight to my Mum, Dad and Dexter and made my way back into the house, up the stairs to my room. It was late and I still had my stuff to pack for the weekend, I was supposed to do this earlier on this evening but hey ho, I think I was a bit too excited to sleep. I rummaged around in the back of the double wardrobe for my suitcase. I used to think that was where the lion lived but Mum always kept the holiday suitcases stored there when I was little and they were always put back in the same place whenever we returned from far flung holidays, even now I had a choice of four.
I decided I would use the hard-sided silver one it would make it easier to transport everything and hopefully get there in one piece. Otherwise it was completely beyond me how I was going to transport my violin, my guitar and my clothes up to Manchester on the train, this was the easiest solution.
I hauled the suitcase up on to the bed and unzipped it. I threw in a couple of pairs of jeans, some clean underwear, a nightie, and a couple of cotton tops, a handful of scrunchie hair bands, my toothbrush, toothpaste, dental floss. The list was endless, oh and not forgetting my make-up kit and a hairbrush.
I looked at my watch it was now gone midnight, time for me to get some serious shuteye. I showered quickly and was in bed by quarter to one. Good job my name wasn’t Cinderella because I would have turned back into a pumpkin by now but I was all set and I was ready to go when the morning in all her glory arrived at my front door.
Thursday 4 October 2012
The Bea Project - Chapter 5
On Thursday morning I had a relatively easy journey into work, not that it is ever difficult. I get on the bus where I live, we trundle along for a bit, I ring the bell and then I get off the bus in Chedworth and toddle up the hill to the Gallery, simple! I think Arty was amazed this morning because I arrived on time, my bus never runs to time it doesn’t matter what time of the day it is it’s always late regardless of which direction your journey takes you.
I made my way through the front door into the back office. Arty was already working and preparing his equipment in readiness for an appointment he was attending Cirencester on Friday afternoon. It was another portrait commission, he’d been painting quite a few of those recently, not all in the same place but around and about, I would hazard a guess that he would travel far and wide but never be too far from home.
‘Ah, Bea, you’re early this morning.’ He said calmly ‘I’ve got your train tickets and I’ve booked you into a hotel for the weekend. Can I make a suggestion, just grab a cab from the Station to your hotel, ask for a receipt and I’ll settle that one up with you when you come back to work on Monday. Okay and one other thing before I forget Bea, on Saturday make your way over to The Lowry Hotel, you have an appointment with Miss Niamh Pedersen of Pedersen Profiles at 2pm. Go to the reception desk and ask for Niamh, she will be expecting you.’ He handed me a large brown envelope which contained all the info that I would need for my weekend away. ‘Here are your train tickets and paperwork.’ I took the envelope from him and placed it inside my bag.
‘Okay Arty, thanks for that. Now what would you like, tea or coffee?‘ I asked.
Erm, a milky coffee would be lovely, Bea‘ He replied. ‘You can go home a bit earlier today if you would like to. Give you a bit of time to pack your things together and have a bit of time to relax before you leave in the morning. Just remember that if you’ve got any problems, any problems at all, I’m just at the end of the phone, you can call me, and I will advise you to the best of my abilities, but just try to do your best and most of all make sure you enjoy it. It will be an exhilarating experience for you.’
I made Arty a very milky coffee in a rather large china mug and got on with my work. I tidied the front shop and then set to and made sure that the booking diary was up to date. Telephoned a few possible clients as there had been a few new people just making general enquiries too. I did the filing, typed up a few letters, waded my way through the day’s post and sorted the orders for the canvas prints that were to be collected from the shop on Friday morning, before Arty closed up for the afternoon and went off to Cirencester.
The day soon zoomed by, I was nearly up to date with my work when I realised that I hadn’t stopped all morning, lunch time had been and gone and the afternoon had rolled around already I glanced up at the clock which was showing three o’clock. Arty came into the shop from the studio out the back.
‘Bea, I thought you were going to go home a bit earlier today?’ He asked.
‘I was,’ I replied ‘I’ve just been so engrossed with everything, I didn’t notice the time. All my work is now up-to-date though.’
‘Well, go on, gather your bits and bobs and I’ll see you on Monday morning, sharp.’ He laughed.
I grabbed my bag and I wandered to the bus stop and waited for the bus to take me home. The bus as usual was late and I got home at just after four o’clock.
I made my way through the front door into the back office. Arty was already working and preparing his equipment in readiness for an appointment he was attending Cirencester on Friday afternoon. It was another portrait commission, he’d been painting quite a few of those recently, not all in the same place but around and about, I would hazard a guess that he would travel far and wide but never be too far from home.
‘Ah, Bea, you’re early this morning.’ He said calmly ‘I’ve got your train tickets and I’ve booked you into a hotel for the weekend. Can I make a suggestion, just grab a cab from the Station to your hotel, ask for a receipt and I’ll settle that one up with you when you come back to work on Monday. Okay and one other thing before I forget Bea, on Saturday make your way over to The Lowry Hotel, you have an appointment with Miss Niamh Pedersen of Pedersen Profiles at 2pm. Go to the reception desk and ask for Niamh, she will be expecting you.’ He handed me a large brown envelope which contained all the info that I would need for my weekend away. ‘Here are your train tickets and paperwork.’ I took the envelope from him and placed it inside my bag.
‘Okay Arty, thanks for that. Now what would you like, tea or coffee?‘ I asked.
Erm, a milky coffee would be lovely, Bea‘ He replied. ‘You can go home a bit earlier today if you would like to. Give you a bit of time to pack your things together and have a bit of time to relax before you leave in the morning. Just remember that if you’ve got any problems, any problems at all, I’m just at the end of the phone, you can call me, and I will advise you to the best of my abilities, but just try to do your best and most of all make sure you enjoy it. It will be an exhilarating experience for you.’
I made Arty a very milky coffee in a rather large china mug and got on with my work. I tidied the front shop and then set to and made sure that the booking diary was up to date. Telephoned a few possible clients as there had been a few new people just making general enquiries too. I did the filing, typed up a few letters, waded my way through the day’s post and sorted the orders for the canvas prints that were to be collected from the shop on Friday morning, before Arty closed up for the afternoon and went off to Cirencester.
The day soon zoomed by, I was nearly up to date with my work when I realised that I hadn’t stopped all morning, lunch time had been and gone and the afternoon had rolled around already I glanced up at the clock which was showing three o’clock. Arty came into the shop from the studio out the back.
‘Bea, I thought you were going to go home a bit earlier today?’ He asked.
‘I was,’ I replied ‘I’ve just been so engrossed with everything, I didn’t notice the time. All my work is now up-to-date though.’
‘Well, go on, gather your bits and bobs and I’ll see you on Monday morning, sharp.’ He laughed.
I grabbed my bag and I wandered to the bus stop and waited for the bus to take me home. The bus as usual was late and I got home at just after four o’clock.
Wednesday 3 October 2012
The Bea Project - Chapter 4
I returned to the front of the shop from the back office, I needed to somehow get my head around the fact that I was going all the way to Manchester just for a couple of hours to play my fiddle. Was it really worth it I wondered. Don’t get me wrong I was very grateful for the opportunity to show what I was capable of doing musically but why did it have to be in Manchester.
So many memories came flooding back to me, and my heart lurched. When I was twenty years old I moved in with Sam, he’s now my ex-boyfriend and he owned a flat in Manchester. I’d met him at a nightclub in the city centre when I was eighteen, around the same time that I had just started studying at Manchester University. I thought he was my Mr. Right and I spent a long time looking at the world through rose tinted glasses, but by the time I was twenty-three I couldn’t be dealing with his drinking problems and his kinky demons anymore so I left him to deal with them on his own.
Three years have now passed and I’ve never seen him or heard from him since, and to be completely honest, I don’t think that I ever want to and I don’t really know what I would do if I ever bumped into him. He messed around with my head, he cheated on me and completely turned my life upside down, to the point where I didn’t know if I was on my head or my heels.
Eventually I managed to bring myself to leave Sam, something I kept putting off, but I needed to get away before our relationship spun out of control and into something which couldn’t be undone. I moved back home to live with my parents, I sorted myself out and I got myself a job as Arty’s Assistant, and that’s the way it’s been ever since until now. Okay, so at the ripe old age of twenty-six I still live at home with my parents.
Arty made me jump and brought me and my thoughts back to the present moment when he popped his head around the back door.
‘So Bea, are you going then.’ He asked, ‘It really is a fantastic opportunity for you to get your own foot in the door, so to speak. To be honest with you I know that you’re capable of doing this, you just need to have a bit more confidence in your own abilities.’
‘Hmm, I guess so.’ I replied, ‘I have nothing to lose at the end of it, do I? Only my job!’
‘That’s great!’ he cried, ‘As I said I’ll make some travel arrangements and book you into a hotel for the weekend, and I’ll pay you an extra special bonus for helping me out of this bungled mess. You know, I really do appreciate you stepping into my boots so to speak to help me out with this project, I think I can safely guarantee that you won’t be disappointed.’
When work was over for the day I collected my things from the back office and made my way to the bus stop and waited for the bus to take me home. All I could think about was Manchester. Wait until I got home and told Mum and Dad where I was going for the weekend. I hadn’t been back to Manchester since I’d left Sam. I felt a little bit sick that I was returning to the City but it might do me some good, give me a chance to have final closure on that chapter of my life and rid me of the horrible memories that have haunted me these last few years.
The green and white number fifty-three bus pulled up at the stop less than five minutes later. I nearly missed it, I was so deep in thought that I forgot to put my arm out. Oh golly, what if I had missed it, the buses around here are not that frequent, there’s usually about an hour in between each bus. Lucky for me the driver recognised me and stopped anyway. I boarded the bus, paid my fare and pulled the white paper ticket out of the machine. I found a seat in amongst all the other passengers, sat down and made myself comfortable as the bus trundled back home through the country lanes.
When the bus arrived back at the sleepy Cotswold village where I lived, I hopped off the bus and practically skipped all the way home, I almost felt like a ten-year-old again. I’d been thinking about the forthcoming weekend all the way back on the journey home. Being totally honest with myself I hadn’t really thought about anything else all day, especially after Arty and myself had discussed it earlier this morning and now all I could think of were the possibilities that could come from this one opportunity and of course, the fact that Arty believed in me and wanted to give me a chance to shine at what I did best.
So many memories came flooding back to me, and my heart lurched. When I was twenty years old I moved in with Sam, he’s now my ex-boyfriend and he owned a flat in Manchester. I’d met him at a nightclub in the city centre when I was eighteen, around the same time that I had just started studying at Manchester University. I thought he was my Mr. Right and I spent a long time looking at the world through rose tinted glasses, but by the time I was twenty-three I couldn’t be dealing with his drinking problems and his kinky demons anymore so I left him to deal with them on his own.
Three years have now passed and I’ve never seen him or heard from him since, and to be completely honest, I don’t think that I ever want to and I don’t really know what I would do if I ever bumped into him. He messed around with my head, he cheated on me and completely turned my life upside down, to the point where I didn’t know if I was on my head or my heels.
Eventually I managed to bring myself to leave Sam, something I kept putting off, but I needed to get away before our relationship spun out of control and into something which couldn’t be undone. I moved back home to live with my parents, I sorted myself out and I got myself a job as Arty’s Assistant, and that’s the way it’s been ever since until now. Okay, so at the ripe old age of twenty-six I still live at home with my parents.
Arty made me jump and brought me and my thoughts back to the present moment when he popped his head around the back door.
‘So Bea, are you going then.’ He asked, ‘It really is a fantastic opportunity for you to get your own foot in the door, so to speak. To be honest with you I know that you’re capable of doing this, you just need to have a bit more confidence in your own abilities.’
‘Hmm, I guess so.’ I replied, ‘I have nothing to lose at the end of it, do I? Only my job!’
‘That’s great!’ he cried, ‘As I said I’ll make some travel arrangements and book you into a hotel for the weekend, and I’ll pay you an extra special bonus for helping me out of this bungled mess. You know, I really do appreciate you stepping into my boots so to speak to help me out with this project, I think I can safely guarantee that you won’t be disappointed.’
When work was over for the day I collected my things from the back office and made my way to the bus stop and waited for the bus to take me home. All I could think about was Manchester. Wait until I got home and told Mum and Dad where I was going for the weekend. I hadn’t been back to Manchester since I’d left Sam. I felt a little bit sick that I was returning to the City but it might do me some good, give me a chance to have final closure on that chapter of my life and rid me of the horrible memories that have haunted me these last few years.
The green and white number fifty-three bus pulled up at the stop less than five minutes later. I nearly missed it, I was so deep in thought that I forgot to put my arm out. Oh golly, what if I had missed it, the buses around here are not that frequent, there’s usually about an hour in between each bus. Lucky for me the driver recognised me and stopped anyway. I boarded the bus, paid my fare and pulled the white paper ticket out of the machine. I found a seat in amongst all the other passengers, sat down and made myself comfortable as the bus trundled back home through the country lanes.
When the bus arrived back at the sleepy Cotswold village where I lived, I hopped off the bus and practically skipped all the way home, I almost felt like a ten-year-old again. I’d been thinking about the forthcoming weekend all the way back on the journey home. Being totally honest with myself I hadn’t really thought about anything else all day, especially after Arty and myself had discussed it earlier this morning and now all I could think of were the possibilities that could come from this one opportunity and of course, the fact that Arty believed in me and wanted to give me a chance to shine at what I did best.
Tuesday 2 October 2012
The Bea Project - Chapter 3
This is where I take you back in time, to the beginning of my story, not too far back though. The beginning of a whirlwind romance that would never last but would introduce me to my real soulmate who would change my world for the better and change my life forever.
On the morning of 10 June 2009, it was a Wednesday, just in case you were wondering. My sister, Amy had literally, just hours earlier given birth to her first child, a boy. My parents were both overjoyed at the thought of having a grandson, a brand new addition to the family. My mother had already made it well known that she would take him to the Church playgroup when he was old enough to give Amy some peace and maybe a little bit of quiet once a week. The moment she announced that idea the baby was barely four hours old. Although I think Amy might have had other ideas about how our parents should behave as Grandparents, after all there is a first time for everything, and I knew that my father would do a good job at storytelling because when Amy, Dexter and myself were children he used to tell us all about Long John Silver and he managed to do all the voices including the Polly the Parrot.
I arrived in work at my own blonde dizzy pace having been up for most of the night waiting to hear news from the hospital about Amy and the birth of Baby Harry. I caught the bus into the next village and arrived at the gallery a little bit later than usual. I couldn’t stop myself from grinning because I was so happy, the other passengers on the bus must have thought I was a proper geek, but to be honest I didn’t care. I had a brand new baby nephew and I felt like a kid at Christmas.
As I pushed the front door open, the little bell that was attached to the top of the upper latch just inside the door made a lovely sweet busy tinkling noise as I entered.
‘Morning Aunty Bea.’ Arty called out from the office at the back of the shop ‘I hear that congratulations are the order of the day then. Is Amy okay? What sex is the baby?’
‘Yes, Arty.’ I replied ‘Amy gave birth to a baby boy at 4.30am this morning with no complications. As you can imagine, she and Luke are overjoyed and my parents are absolutely over the moon. The baby is to be called Harry James and he weighed in at just under seven pounds, so he was a good weight too. Mother and baby are doing well.’ The words came tumbling out of my mouth at such a pace that I am surprised Arty even managed to understand what I had just said, and I felt like my tongue was tripping over my teeth in my excitement to get the words out without even coming up for air in the middle.
I moved to the back of the shop and put my handbag and purse away in my desk drawer and grabbed the invoice that was laying on the top of my desk which was for a portrait that Arty had been commissioned to do more than four weeks ago. The portrait which was finally finished was being collected from the shop later on that morning.
‘Bea, have you got a minute?’ Arty asked, peering at me over the top of his reading glasses which had slid half way down his nose.
‘Yes, sure.’ I replied ‘What’s the problem?‘
He pushed his glasses back up to the bridge of his nose
‘Well, I have just looked in the Entertainments Diary this morning and we have a double booking this Saturday and as I’m not quite Olly the Octopus these days, I simply cannot stretch myself to be in two places at once. Would you do me a huge favour and take care of the second booking? I know that you can pull it off, your musical talents are very good and I think by now you should give it a go all on your lonesome, my dear.’
I looked at him in shock and disbelief, my mouth was open and my chin was nearly on the floor. He was asking Me, if I, me, lil’ ol me, would be prepared to do a musical spot on my own. At nearly twenty-seven years old I thought go for it, just do it. Finally I was being given a chance to put MY own stamp on the world of music. Would the world be ready for me?
‘Yes, Arty, I would love to,’ I answered ‘Is it a local booking?’
‘No Bea, that’s just the point, it’s a one-off chance for you to show case your musical talents, and show the world that you’re made of good strong stuff. I know you can do it.
You are going to have to pack an overnight bag and travel on Friday, stay overnight, it’s cutting it too fine to travel up on Saturday morning to meet up with the clients on Saturday afternoon. Then if the clients like you and what you do, you will perform on Saturday evening. You can travel back home again on Sunday, there’s simply no other way to do it. I would have done it myself but as I have already explained to you I cannot manage to be in two places at once and besides you’re much prettier than me.’ He grinned at me.
‘Okay Arty, so where are you sending me to?’ I asked. ‘How am I going to get there?’
Arty turned and raised his eyebrows at me, ‘Well you can catch the express train or you can fly if you like, the train will be a lot quicker than going by coach, I can book you some travel tickets this morning and sort some hotel accommodation for you.’ He said.
‘Fly? Arty, you still haven’t told me where you are intending to send me?’ I asked him again.
‘Oh yes, I haven’t told you that bit yet, have I.’ he said,
‘Well, you’re off to Outer Mongolia,’ he joked, ‘no, not really, only kidding Bea. You’re going off to Manchester for the weekend.’
‘Manchester!’ I cried, at that point I really think I preferred the idea of Outer Mongolia. ‘You mean Manchester the home of United and City, Coronation Street and Take That and all things northern.’
‘Yep,’ Arty roared with laughter, ‘the very same!’
‘Okay. Yes, I’ll do it, but I’ll travel up by train if you don’t mind, it will give me a chance to relax and prepare myself for Saturday,’ I told him.
On the morning of 10 June 2009, it was a Wednesday, just in case you were wondering. My sister, Amy had literally, just hours earlier given birth to her first child, a boy. My parents were both overjoyed at the thought of having a grandson, a brand new addition to the family. My mother had already made it well known that she would take him to the Church playgroup when he was old enough to give Amy some peace and maybe a little bit of quiet once a week. The moment she announced that idea the baby was barely four hours old. Although I think Amy might have had other ideas about how our parents should behave as Grandparents, after all there is a first time for everything, and I knew that my father would do a good job at storytelling because when Amy, Dexter and myself were children he used to tell us all about Long John Silver and he managed to do all the voices including the Polly the Parrot.
I arrived in work at my own blonde dizzy pace having been up for most of the night waiting to hear news from the hospital about Amy and the birth of Baby Harry. I caught the bus into the next village and arrived at the gallery a little bit later than usual. I couldn’t stop myself from grinning because I was so happy, the other passengers on the bus must have thought I was a proper geek, but to be honest I didn’t care. I had a brand new baby nephew and I felt like a kid at Christmas.
As I pushed the front door open, the little bell that was attached to the top of the upper latch just inside the door made a lovely sweet busy tinkling noise as I entered.
‘Morning Aunty Bea.’ Arty called out from the office at the back of the shop ‘I hear that congratulations are the order of the day then. Is Amy okay? What sex is the baby?’
‘Yes, Arty.’ I replied ‘Amy gave birth to a baby boy at 4.30am this morning with no complications. As you can imagine, she and Luke are overjoyed and my parents are absolutely over the moon. The baby is to be called Harry James and he weighed in at just under seven pounds, so he was a good weight too. Mother and baby are doing well.’ The words came tumbling out of my mouth at such a pace that I am surprised Arty even managed to understand what I had just said, and I felt like my tongue was tripping over my teeth in my excitement to get the words out without even coming up for air in the middle.
I moved to the back of the shop and put my handbag and purse away in my desk drawer and grabbed the invoice that was laying on the top of my desk which was for a portrait that Arty had been commissioned to do more than four weeks ago. The portrait which was finally finished was being collected from the shop later on that morning.
‘Bea, have you got a minute?’ Arty asked, peering at me over the top of his reading glasses which had slid half way down his nose.
‘Yes, sure.’ I replied ‘What’s the problem?‘
He pushed his glasses back up to the bridge of his nose
‘Well, I have just looked in the Entertainments Diary this morning and we have a double booking this Saturday and as I’m not quite Olly the Octopus these days, I simply cannot stretch myself to be in two places at once. Would you do me a huge favour and take care of the second booking? I know that you can pull it off, your musical talents are very good and I think by now you should give it a go all on your lonesome, my dear.’
I looked at him in shock and disbelief, my mouth was open and my chin was nearly on the floor. He was asking Me, if I, me, lil’ ol me, would be prepared to do a musical spot on my own. At nearly twenty-seven years old I thought go for it, just do it. Finally I was being given a chance to put MY own stamp on the world of music. Would the world be ready for me?
‘Yes, Arty, I would love to,’ I answered ‘Is it a local booking?’
‘No Bea, that’s just the point, it’s a one-off chance for you to show case your musical talents, and show the world that you’re made of good strong stuff. I know you can do it.
You are going to have to pack an overnight bag and travel on Friday, stay overnight, it’s cutting it too fine to travel up on Saturday morning to meet up with the clients on Saturday afternoon. Then if the clients like you and what you do, you will perform on Saturday evening. You can travel back home again on Sunday, there’s simply no other way to do it. I would have done it myself but as I have already explained to you I cannot manage to be in two places at once and besides you’re much prettier than me.’ He grinned at me.
‘Okay Arty, so where are you sending me to?’ I asked. ‘How am I going to get there?’
Arty turned and raised his eyebrows at me, ‘Well you can catch the express train or you can fly if you like, the train will be a lot quicker than going by coach, I can book you some travel tickets this morning and sort some hotel accommodation for you.’ He said.
‘Fly? Arty, you still haven’t told me where you are intending to send me?’ I asked him again.
‘Oh yes, I haven’t told you that bit yet, have I.’ he said,
‘Well, you’re off to Outer Mongolia,’ he joked, ‘no, not really, only kidding Bea. You’re going off to Manchester for the weekend.’
‘Manchester!’ I cried, at that point I really think I preferred the idea of Outer Mongolia. ‘You mean Manchester the home of United and City, Coronation Street and Take That and all things northern.’
‘Yep,’ Arty roared with laughter, ‘the very same!’
‘Okay. Yes, I’ll do it, but I’ll travel up by train if you don’t mind, it will give me a chance to relax and prepare myself for Saturday,’ I told him.
Sunday 30 September 2012
The Bea Project - Chapter 2
Apart from being a wannabee writer, I always wanted to create my own artworks, paintings and such like, I have a good eye for colour and creativity. So, let me set the scene for you, I used to have a part-time job as an assistant in an Art Gallery for a wonderful man called Arty. He was an old family friend, he went to the same school as my father and he was a very talented chap and a brilliant music teacher who owned the small Art Gallery in the sleepy Cotswold village of Chedworth.
Arty was married to a lovely woman called Miriam, who was always the life and soul of the party, it didn’t matter who you were Miriam always made you feel special. She was Arty’s second spouse, his first one Ruth, died in a car accident when I was thirteen. Miriam was French, he met her whilst he was taking a holiday in Paris and he was wandering around in the Louvre looking at the renaissance paintings. He says he caught sight of a beautiful female form out the corner of his right eye and plucked up the courage to ask her name and they have been together ever since. I think it was also his intention to stay at home with Miriam so that they could grow old and paint pictures together.
By trade Arty was a session musician, who used to play his guitar with some of the greatest names in the music industry. Then one day, he decided that he didn’t want to go touring around the world or do the daily commute into London anymore, so he gave it all up and opened himself an Art Gallery, and took a step away from playing music with famous celebs to providing the evening entertainment at weekends for couples entering into a state of wedded bliss.
I’ve known Arty since I was eleven years old or thereabouts and have worked with him on and off since I was nineteen. He taught me everything that I know about music, he also taught me how to play the piano, the guitar and the violin. When I used to come home for holidays, in the days when I was at Uni, Dexter and myself used to go and busk on the Underground with our guitars, but I never pursued a professional music career and music just became a hobby.
I’m the sort of person who likes to tinker with all sorts of different things, I have my long piano playing fingers buried in all sorts of different projects and I just keep on adding extra strings to my bow, pardon the pun, because you never know when they will come in handy. As for my nine to five job, well three thirty to be precise, the pay isn’t much and I’ve even dabbled in a spot of nude modelling for the art students at the local college to help make ends meet when times were really hard.
In my weekend job, as an entertainer, I play music alongside Arty at weddings. I play the violin whilst the bride, groom and all their guests, slurp their soup and push their knives and forks around their plates whilst munching on their glorious wedding luncheon and then I play guitar with a five piece band during the evening reception and hopefully the guests get up and dance to the music and generally enjoy themselves.
In that line of work I get to meet so many guys, but none of them are really my cup of tea and half of them have already met the loves of their lives and are rapidly progressing up the aisle into wedded bliss by the time I get to meet them.
So, as you can probably tell my social life never seems to be boring as there is always something going down, but on the other hand my own love-life sucks, it always feels like it is nonexistent even when it isn’t. I really did believe that the man of my dreams would be out there for me somewhere, but at this point I was only looking half heartedly, I know that he’s out there somewhere, and he just hasn’t found me yet.
Arty was married to a lovely woman called Miriam, who was always the life and soul of the party, it didn’t matter who you were Miriam always made you feel special. She was Arty’s second spouse, his first one Ruth, died in a car accident when I was thirteen. Miriam was French, he met her whilst he was taking a holiday in Paris and he was wandering around in the Louvre looking at the renaissance paintings. He says he caught sight of a beautiful female form out the corner of his right eye and plucked up the courage to ask her name and they have been together ever since. I think it was also his intention to stay at home with Miriam so that they could grow old and paint pictures together.
By trade Arty was a session musician, who used to play his guitar with some of the greatest names in the music industry. Then one day, he decided that he didn’t want to go touring around the world or do the daily commute into London anymore, so he gave it all up and opened himself an Art Gallery, and took a step away from playing music with famous celebs to providing the evening entertainment at weekends for couples entering into a state of wedded bliss.
I’ve known Arty since I was eleven years old or thereabouts and have worked with him on and off since I was nineteen. He taught me everything that I know about music, he also taught me how to play the piano, the guitar and the violin. When I used to come home for holidays, in the days when I was at Uni, Dexter and myself used to go and busk on the Underground with our guitars, but I never pursued a professional music career and music just became a hobby.
I’m the sort of person who likes to tinker with all sorts of different things, I have my long piano playing fingers buried in all sorts of different projects and I just keep on adding extra strings to my bow, pardon the pun, because you never know when they will come in handy. As for my nine to five job, well three thirty to be precise, the pay isn’t much and I’ve even dabbled in a spot of nude modelling for the art students at the local college to help make ends meet when times were really hard.
In my weekend job, as an entertainer, I play music alongside Arty at weddings. I play the violin whilst the bride, groom and all their guests, slurp their soup and push their knives and forks around their plates whilst munching on their glorious wedding luncheon and then I play guitar with a five piece band during the evening reception and hopefully the guests get up and dance to the music and generally enjoy themselves.
In that line of work I get to meet so many guys, but none of them are really my cup of tea and half of them have already met the loves of their lives and are rapidly progressing up the aisle into wedded bliss by the time I get to meet them.
So, as you can probably tell my social life never seems to be boring as there is always something going down, but on the other hand my own love-life sucks, it always feels like it is nonexistent even when it isn’t. I really did believe that the man of my dreams would be out there for me somewhere, but at this point I was only looking half heartedly, I know that he’s out there somewhere, and he just hasn’t found me yet.
The Bea Project - Chapter 1
Those of you who already 'know' me, will know that I usually love to write, magazine articles. In June 2012, a friend told me that I didn't really understand how much hard work went into writing a book, and indeed I didn't but it was something that I wanted to try my hand at. In the past I have entered several story competitions but without any real success and deep down in the back of my head I know that I don't stand a 'cat in hell's' chance of getting this one published either, albeit a bit longer than what I normally write. I've decided that I will blog it instead, it won't appeal to everybody, but it might just appeal to some people. It doesn't have a title yet and I just refer to it as "The Bea Project", but it does have a beginning, a middle and an end and now I am just filling in all the blank bits.
Can I just add that all the characters featured in this story are people that have been created by my wild imagination and deserve to have a life on paper and not be running around in my head!
Ladies and Gentlemen, may I present to you:
The Bea Project - Chapter 1
As I sit and gaze through the kitchen window and watch the raindrops fall against the glass, I rub my left hand in a small continuous circular motion across my swollen tummy, the baby kicks me gently to let me know he’s still in there. It’s nearly 11.00am and I haven’t done a thing all morning. I’m not even dressed yet, and I’m still wearing my nightie and my cosy dressing gown. My hair hangs down on one side in a tousled bed head look and I still have to wash and clear away the breakfast things which are sitting on the kitchen table.
I’ve also just remembered that I promised my sister Amy that I would meet her for lunch in the local village bakery which also doubled up as the local tea rooms at 1.30pm this afternoon so we could catch up on some gossip and grab a bite to eat.
The rain is still pouring down since the Water Board announced that there would be a hosepipe ban in our area. Contrary to popular belief the weather has done nothing else but rain. It seems that morning, noon and night for the last forty days and forty nights we have had nothing but thunderous grey skies and wetness. It doesn’t look as though it is going to let up today either, although it would be lovely to see just a little bit of sunshine peeking through the clouds or even feel a tiny bit of natural warmth but alas it is not to be.
I sighed, I think I’ll phone Amy and put her off again today and ask her if she can make lunch next Wednesday instead, as I really need to be getting some work done, need to earn some extra pennies before the little one arrives into our world in just a few months time.
Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve wanted to be a writer of Children’s story books, but I did a stupid thing and accepted a challenge from a friend who didn’t think that I would even be able to make the grade and write a romantic novel from scratch. Talk about complicated, I don’t know what’s worse, and perhaps, I really should have stuck to writing about “Lizzie and The Frog Prince” for all the little kiddie winks out there.
So, you already know that I intend for this book to be a love story. It’s loosely, very loosely based around my own lifestyle and how, through a whirlwind romance I came to meet my soulmate. I have always lived my life by the seat of my pants and to be honest some things never ever change. I tend to do things on impulse, but as I say, things happen in my life quickly, this story is no different.
Sometimes I need to take a couple of deep breaths and stop myself and the roundabout that my life spins around on and think about the consequences that could happen if I’d only taken the time to stop and think about them. A bit like engaging brain before mouth, but some of you will know where I am coming from on that score.
Okay, so let’s be brutally honest here. A ‘real life’ modern romance doesn’t come with instructions or a text book manual, although I sometimes wish that maybe they did. When thinking about those ‘real life’ situations that are far more exciting and a darn sight more adventurous, complex and complicated that you don’t have time to think what you might be doing and about how much baggage a person may be carrying along behind them.
So, if you are still tagging along for this journey with me I suppose that you had better buckle up for the duration and I should really introduce myself to you. My name is Beatrice, but please, do call me Bea, because Beatrice just sounds old-fashioned to me and so stuffy. The only time anyone calls me Beatrice these days is when I am in some sort of trouble or the hot water is boiling on the wrong side of the bridge. I think my parents were working their way through the alphabet starting with the letter ‘A’ because of their choice of children’s names.
I am the middle child of three and am blessed with an elder sister called Amy and a younger brother called Dexter. Yes, yes I know his name doesn’t run in sequence with the alphabet, because the letter ‘C’ would have been next in line, and my Mother was hooked on some American actor at the time she was pregnant with him and almost threatened my Father with a divorce when Dex was born because my Father had wanted the name of Curtis to follow on in sequence from us girls and in honour of the great American actor Tony Curtis, but my Mother was having none of it. Mother won!
This is where you get the low-down on what I look like so you are able to let your imagination run wild later on in this story and picture me strutting my stuff. I’m a bit of a flower-girl, a bit dippy and extremely lovable in my own way and to my brother Dexter, he will always tell you that I can be a bit of a, well okay, a right pain in the arse to be honest. Only because I always wanted to ‘mother’ him when he was younger, but he would have rather have told you that I liked to ‘smother’ him, and not a lot has changed. As he got older and wiser, my maternal instincts kicked in and my guess is that there are loads of girls who would love to date my little brother, but they live in fear of his two elder sisters who oversee his dating scene! I think that the pair of us, both Amy and myself, will approve of his final choice but we just want to make sure that he picks the right girl for him.
A bit more about me then, I am a tall, slender, willowy blonde in more than one sense of the word. Tall in the fact that I stand five feet nine inches in my bare feet. My naturally blonde curly hair hangs in long renaissance ringlet curls all the way down my back, I love it and I tie it up in a double knot at the back of my head, just to keep it out of the way. Oh yes, and my eyes are a piercing pale sky blue colour. I have what some people would envisage as a typical English Rose porcelain skin colouring, I think. The only oddity being a scattering of golden coloured freckles dotted across my nose and cheeks.
Can I just add that all the characters featured in this story are people that have been created by my wild imagination and deserve to have a life on paper and not be running around in my head!
Ladies and Gentlemen, may I present to you:
The Bea Project - Chapter 1
As I sit and gaze through the kitchen window and watch the raindrops fall against the glass, I rub my left hand in a small continuous circular motion across my swollen tummy, the baby kicks me gently to let me know he’s still in there. It’s nearly 11.00am and I haven’t done a thing all morning. I’m not even dressed yet, and I’m still wearing my nightie and my cosy dressing gown. My hair hangs down on one side in a tousled bed head look and I still have to wash and clear away the breakfast things which are sitting on the kitchen table.
I’ve also just remembered that I promised my sister Amy that I would meet her for lunch in the local village bakery which also doubled up as the local tea rooms at 1.30pm this afternoon so we could catch up on some gossip and grab a bite to eat.
The rain is still pouring down since the Water Board announced that there would be a hosepipe ban in our area. Contrary to popular belief the weather has done nothing else but rain. It seems that morning, noon and night for the last forty days and forty nights we have had nothing but thunderous grey skies and wetness. It doesn’t look as though it is going to let up today either, although it would be lovely to see just a little bit of sunshine peeking through the clouds or even feel a tiny bit of natural warmth but alas it is not to be.
I sighed, I think I’ll phone Amy and put her off again today and ask her if she can make lunch next Wednesday instead, as I really need to be getting some work done, need to earn some extra pennies before the little one arrives into our world in just a few months time.
Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve wanted to be a writer of Children’s story books, but I did a stupid thing and accepted a challenge from a friend who didn’t think that I would even be able to make the grade and write a romantic novel from scratch. Talk about complicated, I don’t know what’s worse, and perhaps, I really should have stuck to writing about “Lizzie and The Frog Prince” for all the little kiddie winks out there.
So, you already know that I intend for this book to be a love story. It’s loosely, very loosely based around my own lifestyle and how, through a whirlwind romance I came to meet my soulmate. I have always lived my life by the seat of my pants and to be honest some things never ever change. I tend to do things on impulse, but as I say, things happen in my life quickly, this story is no different.
Sometimes I need to take a couple of deep breaths and stop myself and the roundabout that my life spins around on and think about the consequences that could happen if I’d only taken the time to stop and think about them. A bit like engaging brain before mouth, but some of you will know where I am coming from on that score.
Okay, so let’s be brutally honest here. A ‘real life’ modern romance doesn’t come with instructions or a text book manual, although I sometimes wish that maybe they did. When thinking about those ‘real life’ situations that are far more exciting and a darn sight more adventurous, complex and complicated that you don’t have time to think what you might be doing and about how much baggage a person may be carrying along behind them.
So, if you are still tagging along for this journey with me I suppose that you had better buckle up for the duration and I should really introduce myself to you. My name is Beatrice, but please, do call me Bea, because Beatrice just sounds old-fashioned to me and so stuffy. The only time anyone calls me Beatrice these days is when I am in some sort of trouble or the hot water is boiling on the wrong side of the bridge. I think my parents were working their way through the alphabet starting with the letter ‘A’ because of their choice of children’s names.
I am the middle child of three and am blessed with an elder sister called Amy and a younger brother called Dexter. Yes, yes I know his name doesn’t run in sequence with the alphabet, because the letter ‘C’ would have been next in line, and my Mother was hooked on some American actor at the time she was pregnant with him and almost threatened my Father with a divorce when Dex was born because my Father had wanted the name of Curtis to follow on in sequence from us girls and in honour of the great American actor Tony Curtis, but my Mother was having none of it. Mother won!
This is where you get the low-down on what I look like so you are able to let your imagination run wild later on in this story and picture me strutting my stuff. I’m a bit of a flower-girl, a bit dippy and extremely lovable in my own way and to my brother Dexter, he will always tell you that I can be a bit of a, well okay, a right pain in the arse to be honest. Only because I always wanted to ‘mother’ him when he was younger, but he would have rather have told you that I liked to ‘smother’ him, and not a lot has changed. As he got older and wiser, my maternal instincts kicked in and my guess is that there are loads of girls who would love to date my little brother, but they live in fear of his two elder sisters who oversee his dating scene! I think that the pair of us, both Amy and myself, will approve of his final choice but we just want to make sure that he picks the right girl for him.
A bit more about me then, I am a tall, slender, willowy blonde in more than one sense of the word. Tall in the fact that I stand five feet nine inches in my bare feet. My naturally blonde curly hair hangs in long renaissance ringlet curls all the way down my back, I love it and I tie it up in a double knot at the back of my head, just to keep it out of the way. Oh yes, and my eyes are a piercing pale sky blue colour. I have what some people would envisage as a typical English Rose porcelain skin colouring, I think. The only oddity being a scattering of golden coloured freckles dotted across my nose and cheeks.
Tuesday 3 April 2012
Just A Few Bits & Bobs
Just thought I'd poke my head around into the door and have a look at what's been going on for the past few months - you know what, there's quite a few busy peeps out there right now - doing other stuff cos there's not too much going on in here.
Till the next time.
Berty, Me & A Nice Cup Of Tea.
Monday 16 January 2012
Oooh-oooh, Cooey, yeah you there, don't look over your shoulder I'm not talking to the wall behind you - I'm talking to you, yep you, the one who is taking time out to read this my blog. Now bear with me, because I haven't done any of this blogging malarkey for what seems like ages. Yeah well, it is approximately five years since I last blogged, but hey who's counting. I hope you will come back and see what I've been up to in the days and months to follow. I intend to add pictures and stuff and drawings and doodlings that I do and all sorts of stuff that's not that important but provides a form of escape from all things mundane for you, yep you, the person on the other side of the glass screen, because at the end of the day I like to entertain others. I think I may have missed my vocation somewhere along the line, but there again if I had taken it last time it came along then we might not be sitting here, you and me, me type-writing and you reading. I'm signing off for now, because this piece is only just to "dip my toes" in the water so to speak or "fingers in the ink" in my case, but I think I like what I am doing so far and I think I might come back and if you "like" me, (and I'd like to think that you do) you might come back too.
Till the next time.
Berty, Me & A Nice Cup Of Tea.
Till the next time.
Berty, Me & A Nice Cup Of Tea.
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