Monthly Archives: April 2017

Boy on the moon

Some people think it’s made of cheese. I don’t, of course; I like science and things that are true.

Even so, it’s rockier than I thought. A hard and solid thing, not the ball of light it looks like from Earth, not spongy or even particularly shimmery. It’s just grey and dusty.

I’m glad to be here though. If only Joseph Dodder could see me now. Joseph Dodder is the naughtiest boy in my class, and he says the moon landings didn’t really happen. He says the flag would have waved, and it doesn’t matter how many times you explain to him about atmosphere. He’s a stupid boy, even though I’m not supposed to call anyone stupid, but I think it’s okay to say it about Joseph Dodder because once he pinched my arm so hard it left a finger-shaped bruise.

I kick a stone and it bounces and floats away, sort of taking its time, sailing through the air, but no sign of it coming back down, and I wonder how it is I’m here and I don’t just float off the surface and into space. I’m not wearing a special suit, like the astronauts did.

I learned most about the astronauts when we went to Florida. It was a special trip, Mum always said we couldn’t afford it but then some kind people paid for us to go because they said I should get my wish. ‘Trust you,’ she said when I told her I didn’t want to go to Disneyland, I wanted to go to the Kennedy Space Center. They spell Center like that in America, even though that’s not the right way. I’m smart with words, Miss Lane says so. She’s my teacher and she’s kind and smells of strawberries.

We went early and a nice man in a suit met us and told me I was a VIP, which stands for very important person, and showed us the place where the relatives watched the rockets launch. We sat on metal benches called bleachers and looked out over very flat ground that went on for miles. It was quiet and I squeezed my eyes closed tight and tried to imagine the flames and booming noise there would have been.

Joseph Dodder says that if the moon landings were real, how come you can’t see the stars in any of the photographs, but he doesn’t understand that the moon is so bright that when you’re on it, it blots out all the other lights. And now I’m here I know that’s true because the sky is black.

It makes me think of other black things, people dressed in black although some were in colour, and someone reading out loud about putting out the stars. I remember Mum crying and people hugging her, and me not there.

I want to tell Mum, it’s okay, the stars are there, I just can’t see them. I want to tell her no-one packed up the moon; I am here.

 

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Good and Not Good things about living alone*

(*caveat: I know I’m not always alone, because my son is here half the time and he’s pretty close to perfection, human being-wise, but he’s 7 and therefore I can’t watch Broadchurch with him)

 

Good:

 

  • Falling asleep in front of the TV without anyone poking you and saying every 30 seconds ‘Wake up, you’re missing it’ and ‘Why don’t you go to bed?’
  • Leaving the washing up until morning sometimes because NO-ONE WILL KNOW
  • Cooking your famous ‘pasta with pesto and anchovies’ AGAIN, just because you fancy it, without anyone looking at you strangely
  • Watching Friends re-runs, Gogglebox, anything at all on TV in fact, without shame or argument
  • No men’s socks ever found on dining room table or other inappropriate places
  • Spending entire day writing (translation: 5+ hours of alternate staring out of window and walking aimlessly around house, plus 45 minutes of frantic scribbling / typing in manner of one possessed) without having to entertain anyone else or indeed explain your bizarre behaviour
  • All choices regarding décor, pets, hoarding or disposal of possessions, being yours and yours alone in manner of mini-dictatorship
  • Having the entire, king size bed to yourself

 

Not good:

 

  • Cooking AND washing up, every night. In fact every household task being your responsibility alone, especially…
  • Putting the bins out. Yes, it only takes approx. 45 seconds once a week, but I resent it so much I would consider living with Hannibal Lecter if he promised to do this one job for me
  • Having no-one to watch Broadchurch with and so having to dramatically gasp and air your theories to an empty room
  • Getting ill and still having to deal with life admin, for example on one memorable occasion, simultaneous chest infection (me) and nits (boy). Combed them out in the bath, exhausted, then cried and went to bed. Would have been nice to have someone to bring me a Lemsip, at least
  • Sometimes really shit things happen, like someone dies, and although you have lovely friends who you know would drop everything to receive a ranty, tearful phone call or come over and hug you, you feel very, very alone
  • Having the entire, king size bed to yourself

 

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