I could hear them as I walked down the corridor. You can always hear them. A low hum that spreads through the building like swarming insects. The walls vibrate with the energy of 1,600 people talking, moving, breathing. Even when every student is occupied with their work, and lets face it that never happens, the noise is still there, like something alive. The school itself lives through the thousands of lives that seath within its walls every day. Occupied with such thoughts I hurried down the corridor, the noise rising as the students revelled in my absence. I reached the classroom door as the noise resolved itself into one voice.

“And bam, right there,” exclaimed the voice of Johnnie Mitchell, followed by whoops of laughter.

I took a deep breath and placed my hand on the doorknob, squaring my shoulders, I walked into the room.

The scene that met my eyes was one of frenzied excitement. Most of the class were clustered around two desks at the back of the room, some sat on chairs they’d moved from behind the desks that ran in four rows along the room and were now arrayed around the desks in the far right hand corner. The door was situated on the left hand wall of the class room, the room ran longways away from the door to the left so that the first thing my eyes focused on was the throng of students sitting and standing around the two figures seated at the desks farthest from the door.

I couldn’t see the figures clearly, those that surrounded them mostly hid them, but I had no doubt who they were. Even if Johnnie’s voice had not announced him as the prime instigator, precedent would certainly have brought him first to mind, along with his luckless cohort, his right hand man, Matt Ryan. The two were the centre of attention in any situation, class clowns who thrived on the admiration of their peers and frustration of their teachers.

I glanced around the rest of the room to gauge the extent of the disruption. All the remaining desks were unoccupied, not a good sign. I sighed as I walked to the large teachers desk that faced into the classroom and placed my bag on the desk. A data projector sat on the desk, ready should any teacher choose to plug a laptop into it, it pointed behind the teachers desk to where a white board was attached to the wall, a tray with white board markers arrayed beneath. I stood behind the desk and surveyed the length of the room. The desks were arrayed in four rows across, two desks to a row and 6 rows long. Many teachers chose to seat the students in assigned spaces in an attempt to stop them from distracting each other. Personally I found this attempt pointless, the students only wrote notes to each other and passed them the length or breadth of the class, thereby distracting the whole class instead of just their immediate neighbours.

Nominally this was my classroom so I was free to decorate as I liked. The walls therefore featured posters for various art exhibitions and plays and posters of the covers of the penguin classics collection, books like Tosltoy's Anna Karenina, Orwell’s 1984, Austen’s Pride and Prejudice and Dickens’ Great Expectations; things that I’d loved that I hoped might inspire the students in some way. I shook my head as I surveyed the scene before me; inspire them by osmosis maybe.

Gaining students attention after such distraction had been allowed to build was never easy, one of the many reasons why being late to class was really not an option, but year 9 English was not the easiest class to manage on a good day. I had the sinking feeling today’s lesson was not going to happen.

first days

Please be aware this is actually not finished.



I knew the boys were there, I’d heard the squeal of the gate as they’d opened it. I’d watched them walk up the short steps that led to the front door. But I sat immobile on the bed. I wanted to see them, but I couldn’t bear the thought of it. ‘What would I say to them, what did they know?’ I hated the thought of explaining things, what if they didn’t know, how would I say it out loud? ‘What if they did know? What if they’d seen him, what had he said to them?’ The sudden image of them all talking, sitting in a pub, talking about me made me dizzy. I gripped the doona cover tightly and gulped air. Suddenly the room was spinning, I gripped tighter and squeezed my eyes shut, I breathed in huge gasps of air, trying to calm down. A sudden knock on the door dragged me back to where I was, the bed was firm beneath me and I felt the room slowing down. I opened my eyes slowly and looked around, everything looked normal. Another knock, “Come in,” I called out breathlessly.

Georgia opened the door and walked in. She looked at my face, and quickly came to sit beside me on the bed. “You ok?”

I smiled at her as she put her arm around my shoulders. “Yeah,” I said, “Just a momentary panic attack.”

Georgia nodded and squeezed my shoulders in a hug.

“Tim and Mark are here,” Georgia said softly. “Do you want to come down and see them?”

I took a deep breath. “Do they know?”

Georgia nodded, her brow furrowed slightly as her hand gently rubbed my back.

I looked down at my hands on my lap.

“Why don’t you come and talk to them Leash.”

I looked back up at my sister, her blues eyes filled with concern, “I just, what do I sat to them?”

Georgia smiled, “You don’t have to say anything you don’t want to honey, they’re worried about you.”

“They are?” I asked.

“Of course they are, they’re your friends.”

I shook my head, “I know it’s just,” I sighed again. “They’re his friends too, I don’t, what if – “

“Are you worried about what Byron might have told them?” Georgia asked.

I looked away from her and nodded.

“Alicia, come on,” Georgia stood pulling me by the elbow to stand with her. “You can’t hide here forever. You’ll feel better if you talk to them.”

I sighed again and shook my hair back out of my face. “You’re right.” I squared my shoulders and smiled at her. Georgia smiled gently back at me, taking my hand she lead me from the room.

I followed her down the stairs in trepidation. Georgia was right, I couldn’t hide from everyone, but that didn’t make me feel better. I was scared of what the boys might think, of what everyone might think. Worst of all I was scared of telling people, saying it out loud somehow made it worse. Like maybe if I didn’t say it, I could make it not true.

I’d spent the previous few days at my sister’s house trying to understand what had happened. I hadn’t heard anything from Byron since he’d come home from work, calmly tore my heart out and left.

I’d sat at the kitchen table for what had felt like days before his words had perculated through my dazed brain.

“I don’t feel like I’m growing where I am Leash, I need to figure out who I am and what I want.”

“Well ok Byron, we can do that, whatever you want,” I’d said stupidly.

“No Leash, we can’t,” was his response.

It was then that I lost my hearing, the whole world seemed to slow down, everything was a jumble of images I couldn’t understand, I know Byron said more, a lot more, but I don’t know what it was, I felt like I was watching a silent film, where you can see the characters mouth move and the words appear in subtitle, except someone had turned that part off. Eventually he stopped talking and suddenly he was leaving, I watched, numb, as my boyfriend left our house with a backpack and apparently no plans to come back. When eventually I recovered my ability to move, I called my sister and I’d been at her house ever since.

I walked into the loungeroom where Karen, Tim and Mark sat, with coffee mugs in hand, talking quietly. As I entered Tim looked up, “Alicia, he said. At the mention of my name Mark and Karen lifted their heads. Tim and Mark stood and both walked to where I stood nervously in the doorway. Georgia was still holding my hand, but she dropped it as the boys simultaneously reached to hug me. Their arms engulfed me in one giant hug. I reached my arms round both their wastes, my head on Tim’s chest. A few moments passed and the boys released me, they both stepped back and looked at me. Two bright blue eyes and two brown eyes, both filled with concern. I blinked and suddenly felt my throat closing. My eyes pricked with tears. I blinked rapidly, trying to hold back the tears, I could feel my breathing getting faster. Tim took another step towards me and placed a hand on my forearm. I glanced down at his hand, and felt a sob tear up my throat.

“Alicia, would you like a coffee?” Karen’s voice broke through my emotion, I swallowed the sob and turned towards her, breaking the tableu.

“That’d be great thanks Karen,” I gulped.

Tim had taken his hand away, but still stood close, Mark hovered nearby, I turned towards them both, smiled a shaky smile and indicated the lounges.

“Should we sit?” I said.

They both nodded and took the seats they had so recently vacated. I sat besides Georgia, she took my hand and squeezed it.

“So Mark, how’s class?” Georgia asked, turning her head slightly towards Mark, I squeezed her hand gratefully in return.

Georgia and the boys talked about Marks course for a while and I felt myself relax. Karen came in with my coffee and some biscuits and sat beside Georgia, she placed her hand briefly on my sisters thigh then leant back in the lounge. Taking my cue from Karen I leant back into the couch and closed my eyes, letting the conversation wash over me. They were talking about the people in Mark’s second year Tauts class.

“I don’t feel as old as I did last year,” Mark laughed. “They’re not so bright and bushy tailed anymore.”

“University’s sucking the life out of them and this one is glad about it,” Tim said.

A Conversation

“I’m so not in the mood for tonight,” Mark announced as he walked into the living room and threw himself onto the couch.

Alicia looked up from her novel, “yeah, not sure that I am either.”

“We could not go,” Mark grinned at her. “We could get some wine, some cheese and crackers, get a movie.”

“Tempting Mark, but we should go.”

“She’s only going for a year, she’ll be back.”

Alicia shook her head, closing her book and placing it on the coffee table as she said, “that’s not the point.”

“I know but I’m tired and I have so much work to do tomorrow.”

“We don’t have to go for long.”

“We’ll make it up to her, we’ll get her round for dinner before she goes, she’s not leaving for a week.”

“Come on Mark we should, we’ll have fun once we’re there.”

Mark sighed, “honestly Leash, I really don’t know that I can be bothered. We won’t know anyone there.

“Sure we will, we’ll know Nora and her sister Maddy and Richard-”

“Great that’s three people-“

“Won’t Ben be there?”

“Yes Ben is going with his new boyfriend,” Mark grimaced.

Alicia grimaced back at him, “that’s why you don’t want to go isn’t it, you don’t want to see Ben and Kyle.”

“That is not why I don’t want to go, I don’t want to go because I am tired and I have work to do tomorrow and I have an assignment due in a week and I’m tired.”

“You said tired twice. Come on Mark it’ll be fun, it’ll be nice to see Nora and wish her well and you know you really want to see Ben-“

“This is in no way about Ben.”

Alicia threw a cushion at him, which Mark caught and placed behind him.

“Whatever, you brought them up, not me.”

Mark shot her a hard look.

“Fine, you’re tired, it’s got nothing to do with the ex boyfriend your still in love –“

“I am not,” Mark paused. “I am not in love with anyone.” He finished.

“Ok, fine, whatever,” Alicia stood. “I’m afraid Mark, dear, you’re on your own.”

“On his own for what?” Tim strode into the room, jacket in hand. “You guys ready for the pub?”

“Mark’s trying to talk me into staying home, he doesn’t want to see Ben and Kyle.”

“Oi,” Mark glared at Alicia as she stood.

“I’m just going to get ready, Tim try get him to come would you?”

Tim grinned at Alicia as she left the room. When she had gone he rounded on Mark and fixed him with a glare. “Come on Mark, so what Ben and Kyle will be there, you and Ben are so close, you’re going to see them together eventually, get it over with.”

“As I just finished telling Alicia, it’s not about Ben and Kyle, I’m tired, I have work to do-“

“Bollocks,” Tim cut across him.

“What bollocks,” Mark sat up and glared back at Tim. “I told you-“

“Well I don’t believe you, you’ve been mopy for weeks, ever since you found out. I don’t see what the problem is, you and Ben haven’t been together for years, he’s been with other people before, as by the way, have you.”

“I hardly think a brief fling with Ricardo counts. Anyway, I told you, it’s not about them.”

“So you keep saying. Come on man, it’s me, who do you think you’re fooling.”

Mark sighed and sat back on the couch. “Fine, Tim, you win. Yes I’m not keen to see Ben with a new boyfriend, but that’s really not the reason I don’t want to go.”

Tim rolled his eyes.

“Fine, it’s not the whole reason. I’m tired and I do have work to do tomorrow.”

“So, so do I dude, you don’t have to be out late and you don’t have to drink too much.”

“But I do have an assignment due next week.”

“Mark, you started that three days ago, you’ll have it finished by tomorrow night and knowing you, you’ll get a hd, a hd you’d more than likely get if you wrote the thing in one day hung over as hell.”

“That’s not true, I would not.”

“Fine, I over exagurate, you’d only receive a distinction if you wrote it in one day hung over as hell. Come one man, we’ll go, we’ll say bon voyage to Nora, we’ll have a couple of beers, we’ll grab a bottle of wine on the way home and we’ll all get up bright and fresh in the morning ready for a day of assignment writing and class preparation.”

Mark groaned and stood up. “You are impossible to say no to.”

Tim grinned, “how do you think I get the girls.”

Mark snorted as he left the loungeroom.

blind date

Karen stood inside the door and surveyed the bar. The tables dotted in front of the bar were occupied, groups of twos and threes lined along the walls. A large group of men stood near the door to Karen’s left, Karen glanced at them as she took a few steps towards the bar. As she walked Karen surveyed the tables, they appeared to be occupied by couples and groups. Karen was looking for a single individual, a single individual wearing a black collared shirt and a blue scarf. Karen herself was wearing a crimson scarf over a black shirt, her long auburn hair caught up in a half pony tail at the back, black, pleated skirt hung to just above her knees, crimson stockings to match the scarf. Karen had decided that understated worked best for the evening, the crimson scarf had to stand out if she were to be noticed.

Karen had never been on a blind date before and she was quite nervous. Her best friend, Sarah, had recently started seeing Mark and Sarah had decided that Karen, therefore, needed a boyfriend too. Karen wasn’t particularly fussed either way, but she went along with Sarah’s plan as she always did. She had met a couple of Mark’s friends over drinks over the last few weeks, but much to Sarah’s chagrin, nothing came of it. Karen, Sarah felt, didn’t put in any effort. Sure she talked to the men, joining in conversations with the group, chatting amiably with them at the bar, but Sarah didn’t think she was really trying. Karen figured Sarah must be right; certainly nothing ever came of the meetings, no phone numbers were exchanged, no kisses shared. So Sarah had decided that more drastic measures were needed and proceeded to arrange a blind date for Karen with one of the men from her work. So there she was, nervously searching for a flash of blue amongst the tables, hoping if nothing else happened, she at least wouldn’t be stood up.

Upon reaching the bar, Karen turned and surveyed the room again. There were two small tables in the bay window by the door that Karen hadn’t noticed before. They were both occupied, three girls sat around the table by the door. At the other a blond man sat alone, a book in his hand, a glass of beer on the table in front of him. As Karen looked at him, the man looked up, he saw Karen looking at him and he smiled, raising his hand as though in greeting. The gesture caught Karen by surprise and she glanced at his neck, no blue scarf to be seen. Karen looked back up, into his smiling blue eyes, and then quickly glanced away. She surveyed the bar again, but still no sign of a man with dark hair and a blue scarf. Instead Karen joined the queue at the bar and.

Ten minutes later Karen turned from the bar, a glass of red wine in her hand, casting her eye around for her date. Once again there was no sign of anyone sporting a blue scarf, feeling slightly irritated, Karen turned her attention to locating a spare table. She glanced at the tables in the bay window by the door. The blond man was reading his book again, the girls were laughing loudly. Karen found her eyes straying back to the blond man, she couldn’t help but wondering what he was reading. As she stood pondering, he looked up and locked eyes with her again. She felt herself blushing and glanced away, she turned her head as though looking again for a spare table, but her eyes were unseeing, she imagined she felt his eyes on her still, but when she turned back, he was once again reading.

Karen stood watching him for a moment, out of the corner of her eye she caught movement and realized the girls had stood and were getting ready to leave. Karen began making her way as quickly as she could through the tables and people. By the time the girls had left, Karen was standing by the table. She sat in the chair that would afford her the best view of the door. Karen glanced at her watch and felt a jolt of anger sweep her, it was 8.30, the date had been agreed on for 8 and her she was, sat alone in a crowded bar, watching the door pathetically. Almost on cue the door swung open, Karen looked up expectantly, in walked a trio of men, and Karen sighed and looked away. She picked up her wine glass and took a sip, glancing over at the other table as she did so. The man was looking at her, his own glass raised to his lips. He smiled and lifted the glass in salute, Karen returned the gesture somewhat ruefully. She was beginning to feel rejected and the feeling was making her angry and tearful. She took another sip of her wine, hoping she didn’t look as stupid as she felt. She knew this had been a bad idea and was definitely regretting letting Sarah talk her into it. Lost in her own reflections it took Karen a few moments to realize the man had said something and was now looking at her expectantly. “Sorry.”

“Are you waiting for someone?”

Karen sighed, “Yeah, but they appear to be late.”

“You should have bought a book.” The man said.

Karen glanced at the book in his hand. She could see it quite clearly now. “1984, that’s a good book.”

“What are you reading at the moment,” the man asked, placing the book carefully on the table in front of him.

“Her Fearful Symmetry by Audrey Neffinegger.”

He nodded. “The Time Traveller’s Wife.”

“Yeah,” Karen leaned forward. He’s cute she thought. “So, are you waiting for someone then?”

He smiled, “no, I felt like a beer to go with the book.”

Karen smiled in return and lifted her wine glass, “Well here’s to good books and beer.”

“And good company.”

Karen blushed slightly and took a sip of her wine.

“I’m James.”

Karen stood, lifted her wine glass and moved to his table. She stood next to him, placed her wine glass on the table beside his beer and held out her hand, “Karen.” He stood, shook her hand and they both sat.

Karen and James smiled at each other as the door swung open again, Karen glanced up and saw a tall man wearing a black collared shirt and a blue scarf. Karen looked at James, she smiled and removed her scarf.

so its been quite some time, there are many things i could write here, many adventures have been had since last i wrote anything, but for now, i am just going to say read the below:
The heat rises off the bitumen like steam, cloying into my skin and hair. I stand on what I laughingly call a footpath watching for a break in the traffic. Sure the footpath is separated from the road by a curb but its function bears little resemblance to the footpaths I am used to. Street side vendors hawk their wears, selling everything from meals complete with beer, through to shoe repairs, water and cigarettes. Every 50 feet or so someone lounges on a motorbike, their feet tucked under them like they were in their living room. Men and women stand in front of shop doors, calling to passers by. Weaving your way along the sidewalk, you may imagine youself to be relatively safe, until suddenly a motorbike comes roaring up the curb, weaves around you and a street side vendor, past the truck going slowly down the street and back out into the traffic.

So I stand warily on the curb, waiting for a break in the traffic so that I can cross the road. There are not many traffic lights here in District Three of Ho Chi Minh City, I cross amidst the cars, trucks, buses, motorbikes, bicycles and pedestrians or I don’t cross at all. There is no waiting in an orderly fashion for a little green man to tell me that I may cross safely.

The sun beats down on my head, the dust and steam rise from the road and I stand watching. My heart is beating faster, my breathing is shallow and rapid. The traffic is a vibrating, pulsating thing. It is no longer just individual vehicles but a many limbed creature that I can not predict or control. Motorbikes weave in and out of cars in terrifying figures of eights, never stopping, barely slowing, cars, trucks and buses, fighting for room.

I have been told that the only way to cross the road is just to cross, venture out into the maelstrom, keep a steady pace and cross the road. I make a couple of false starts, there are no cars or motorbikes immediately near me and I step out onto the road, my heart in my mouth, my pulse quickening but suddenly, as if from nowhere, a motorbike is heading for me, horn honking and I quail, quickly stepping back onto the curb. All around me the noise of thousands of people, hundreds of vehicles fills my mind, I stare into the road and I am sure I will never make it.

I stand so long on the edge of the road that twice a taxi pulls along side to offer me a lift. I shake my head and start walking as though I were merely pausing on my way down the street. I laugh inwardly at the thought of asking a taxi driver to take me to the other side of the road. I can’t believe this. How can such a little thing be so hard. I am an intelligent woman, I have travelled, I am confident, how can such a small thing be so difficult.
In the time that I have stood watching, hoping for a gap to open, I have witnessed a number of people achieve what I am trying to do. They make it look like the easiest thing in the world. They have all made it to the other side of the road without incident, all alive, unharmed and already long gone about their day. A middle aged Vietnamese woman stops beside me for a moment and as I look at her, it occurs to me that I could cross the road with her. When she steps out into the traffic, so do I. She makes her way steadily across the road, eyes peeled for oncoming vehicles, motorbikes stream around us both, but while my heart leaps every time, she appears unpeturbed. After what seems an age during which I was certain I would die at least a dozen times we come to the other side of the road. The woman disappears into the crowd while I stand still for a moment, waiting for my legs to stop shaking.

I turn around towards the road again in triumph. Looking at the teeming street my heart sinks as it occurs to me that to get home I will have to do it all again.