Leaving
Fragments 2:36
This post marks the end of Fragments Part 2. And, although I did not know it then, the end of my life in the UK. It is a place to stop, at least for a time, these weekly posts. There is a chance of publication for the first four parts and I’ll see how that pans out. Thank you dear readers, both regular and occasional; while Fragments is on pause, I am planning a new series. Details soon-ish. A virtual hug, Mike
A roomful of colleagues and friends wishing us well and none have noticed. My act of bravery, unremarked. Time to be less subtle “What do you think of my new look?” is met with confusion. New shirt, did you wear glasses, have you been in the sun? Did you have a beard?
“I went to the barber this afternoon. He cut off the comb-over.” My longer and longer lock of hair, attempting to hide a hairline receding since university. She looks puzzled for a beat, then smiles. “Of course, that piece that flopped around like a windsock. About time.”
sunlit table
ten for sunday lunch
nothing to say
A smaller and slightly more ragged brass band than I’d seen half-time at Highbury, play Yellow Submarine to wish us bon voyage. We throw streamers across to shore, snatched up by those we leave behind. A last holding on, until the SA Oranje begins to pull away. Links, one by one, snap apart. Childhood friends, snap. Oxford chums, snap. Cold, dark winter mornings. My Gipsy Hill flat. Friday evenings watching TV with parents, in their sun-room where the sun rarely shines, dinner with trays on knees. The London ad-scene with gossipy pubs. A buried love, still undead. A current affair staggering down a cul-de-sac. Snap, snap, snap. Trombones, trumpets, and tubas fade into seagulls and ocean. Dockside faces and bodies become a dispersing blob. A flash of guilt for leaving mum and dad; they will visit and perhaps we find new conversations. Hands along the deck let snapped streamers fall into the sea. Birthland ties dissolve as we move into the world of water.
shedding tired skin
reinventing
myself again



I hope this hiatus is short lived. I really look forward to these gems every Sunday morning.
I love your graphic novelette.