Monthly Archives: January 2017

A little story from @clairesy

They walked across the road and everybody stared. No one had seen anything quite like this before. It was all new and a little frightening for the small town folk. But they weren’t afraid and they weren’t ashamed, they were in love. This is just like every other love story. Boy meets girls, girls meets boy and the rest is history as they say. They knew from the start there would be opposition but they decided it was worth it, all of it. The stares, the whispers, even the open catcalling. She thought to herself ‘how could I not love him?’ He was kind and thoughtful and an amazing listener. Not like all the other blokes – granted there weren’t that many – she’d ever been with.

This was the first time they’d been in public together in her home town and she didn’t really know what to expect. It was a little different in the city but it was never simple. Sometimes they wouldn’t let them into places together. They’d say his kind wasn’t welcome. His outfit weren’t appropriate or those shoes weren’t allowed here – that old chestnut. But they never gave up. There were always oddities, he ate far less than she did but never seemed to feel the cold which totally defied logic in her mind. They spent countless house together on their couch, telling stories and sharing secrets. They had a strange, intractable bond that held them together through the tough times.

How do two vastly people like this meet? In a world full of random, thoughtless events how does something like this happen? “I recognise you” he said to her out of the blue at a bar many, many months earlier. She jumped a little at the interruption. She was so used to being ignored in bars it was a strange sensation to hear another’s voice. “Do you?” she replied. “Where from? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before?” And so began the art of seduction. Just enough flattery – “I read your website all the time” and a little deprecation – “I hated that story you wrote on cyclists though, I fumed for a week after that!” He kept appearing and asking how she was and how much he liked her last piece until one day she finally invited him to sit down.

The strange looks have never really passed but the self-consciousness definitely has. He called one day and said he left her a present at her unit. She was already half way home so she quickened her step, curiosity piqued. And then she found the bike. She could have screamed. She doesn’t know how many times she’d told him she wouldn’t go riding with him – especially after that piece – she wasn’t one of those twats! “What’s the only thing more ridiculous than a skeleton on a bicycle? ME on a bicycle. Not going to happen!” she yelled down the phone.

He thought to himself “does a skeleton really look that ridiculous on a bicycle?”

They laugh about the bike now as they walk through the streets of her home town. “You know what’s even more ridiculous than a skeleton on a bicycle? Bringing one home as a boyfriend!” they laughed. And then it began to rain.

If you want to see more from Claire checkout

Clairesyspeaks | The story of a girl named Clairesy who speaks….a lot


It had been a long, sad and sorry day

It was 3.30pm and I rushed to the Qantas counter with 30 minutes to spare….or so I thought. “Sorry you’re too late to check baggage. It’s 25 minutes to take off” I could get on the plane and leave my bag or catch the next flight with my bag. As my mother would have said : Hobsons choice. “Please, please, just this once” No way. “These are the rules, I can’t help you”.

So I arranged to catch the next flight which meant a three hour wait. I couldn’t even get drunk because I had to drive my car from the airport 25ks home. I was teary and distressed but no sympathy was forthcoming.

Sans bag I sat down on a seat in quite a prominent place in the departure area. I was not in a fit place emotionally to make my way through security yet. It came upon me like a tsunami. A blast of grief, pain, frustration and anger. It was loud, snotty and hicuppy. Great bawling exhaled breaths with little shrieks as I took in a new breath only to bawl it out as loud as I could. It was gut wrenching and painful.

After about 10 minutes I settled and then just sniveled quietly to myself. I realised during my ignominious crisis, that hundreds of people had walked passed me and not one person came to see if I was alright or ask if could they help. Not one.

Maybe that was what I deserved. After all, I my sister and I had just spent the day making my father’s car inoperable so he couldnt drive it then dragging him from his home to a respite centre and leaving him there alone. Yes he had almost killed himself with neglect, Yes his doctor wouldn’t release him from hospital to go home alone. Yes on the road he was a danger to himself and others. I tried to tell myself it was the right thing to do.

Almost 10 years later I think back on that day and I wonder. If I was faced with that decision again today would I tell the doctor to let Austin go home even though I know he would have died sooner. At least he would still have felt in control of his life and fate. Of course there would be consequences of that decision not the least being the possibility he might have taken someone with him if he’d still been driving.