Love And Romance
There is a difference between love and romance, but I do not know what it is. Perhaps love is circular, like an argument between two people who will never agree, and romance is the delusion that one day they might.
In any event, we learned to live on love and fresh air, because the air is always cleaner when love is in it. I asked to move in. He said “Yes, you can have the spare room”. I paid for the electricity to be re-instated, so we were not always sitting in the dark. He never threw me out of his bed. I never slept in the spare room.
His flat was immaculate. Despite having very little in terms of classy furniture, he made the best of what he had been given/scrounged/stolen. The lounge carpet was brushed daily (he did not have a vacuum cleaner). Dusting was done on a weekly basis. All ornaments were removed from the teak effect bookcase and replaced once both it and they had been scrupulously polished. The kitchen sink was not allowed to become stacked high with dishes. Food was eaten at a dining pine effect dining table.
It was the books and posters that captured my imagination. I had never seen so many. A whole archive of illustrated political activism was pinned to the walls. From the graphic images and headlines I learned about South Africa, the history of Trotskyism and the Cuban revolution. He had many books, some on shelves, but most of them were stacked, horizontally on top of each other, in the spare room. Matt was a kind of book orphanage. He wanted to be a collector, but lack of money prevented him from immediately achieving this dream. What he had were what people did not want any more, the 'surplus to requirements' tomes, the 'I can live without that' volumes. He gave them all a home and they were precious to him.
Two books in particular fascinated me, Marx's Capital, I and II. My Uncle Frank had told me that every miner, at least in Kirkcaldy, had at least two books in his library, Das Kapital and the bible. This could have been his old communist romanticism, but I do not think so. Frank was not a bullshitter. Having grown up under the same roof as mother and, therefore, necessarily as their father, he had somehow emerged as a conscious and caring individual. I was convinced that Frank would like Matt, and vice-versa.
Our lives amalgamated instantaneously. I had no thoughts of 'what if?' Unlike my previous relationships this one felt 'right'. We did not use any form of contraception, deciding that we wanted a baby. I was ready. He was ready. Being prepared to tie myself to this man for life seemed a natural conclusion of the love I had for him. Waiting and planning were deemed unnecessary. We were too caught up in each other to consider hurdles or walls and, in any event, love, like adrenalin, gave us legs and we could always build ourselves a ladder.
Since reading Anthony and Cleopatra, at the age of 16, I had been looking for a man who would fulfill “Let Rome in Tiber melt, and the wide arch
Of the ranged empire fall. Here is my space.
Kingdoms are clay; our dungy earth alike
Feeds beast as man; the nobleness of life
Is to do thus; when such a mutual pair
And such a twain can do't.” I did not want soggy love, or the love that already knows its own defeat, through fear, or selfish concern. I wanted a love that was prepared to risk everything. And so we did.
On Friday 13 July 1990 the block of flat we were living in burned to the ground. The fire started at some time around 7.00pm. We remained blissfully unaware of it until about 8.00pm, by which time it had taken hold of one side of the building and filled the stair wells with toxic smoke. We wrapped wet cloths around our faces and tried to run down the stairs, only to be beaten back by choking fumes. We returned to the flat. Fire engines arrived, lots of them. Matt went out onto the balcony to wave and attract attention. At first the firemen ignored him, as they concentrated on tackling the blaze.
We were confused as to why they appeared to have no water. From time to time the jets spurting out of their hoses stopped. More fire engines came. Residents of the local estate started ripping the fence staves out of the ground, so the trucks could get nearer to the building.
Inside, I soaked coats, towels and other items that I could be used to block the gaps in doors. I started at the front of the flat and effectively sealed us in, working back through to the balcony. And there we stood, for nearly two hours, watching the firemen try and fail to extinguish the fire.
Smoke began to fill the flat and I panicked. The hydraulic lifts fitted to the back of fire engines are only designed to reach up to the ninth floor, we were on the eleventh. The fireman below shouted something at us, but we could not hear him. Matt produced a tow rope, blue nylon, stained brown from use. “If it comes to it we'll have to climb down the outside of the building, jumping balcony to balcony.”
“We're fucking 150ft in the air and we've got one rope, how the hell are we going to do that?” I replied.
“Do you know how to knot?”
“Yes,” because I been on various climbing courses when I was at school, “But there's no knot I can tie which we can undo from 20ft away. The rope's not long enough to make it all the way to the ground”.
“We don't have to get to the ground, just to where they can reach us.”
I looked over the balcony. The earth rose up to meet my gaze. I felt very very sick. The glass, further along, in the part of the tower block where the fire had started, began to explode outwards. Shards rattled down on top of the firemen who were still struggling with their hoses. Massive flames leapt out where the fire had finally found some air. They licked up the side of the building like a hungry dragon.
“Hey, hey you!” It was a fireman on a platform. His face was very dirty under his yellow helmet. “We can't get the guys in with breathing equipment, the building's collapsing. You'll just have to sit tight.”
I fainted. Matt slapped me round the face. I started to scream. “Shut the fuck up woman,” he said, “Hysterics aren't going to achieve anything”. I was shaking. Every hair on my head felt as if 10,000 volts had been shot up my arse. My legs were liquid, like mercury, spilling about. I thought of poison, it would be better than jumping. If I jumped I might not die on impact. All my bones would get rammed into all my other bones. Sharp points of broken bones would slice into my muscles. My own bones would become arrows inside my body.
The fireman in the platform was waiting. “Look, I've got some rope here,” Matt said, shouting above the roar of machinery and noise of burning and exploding.
“Tie it and throw it down,” the fireman replied. I managed a competent knot. The coiled rope was thrown and the fireman caught it. He tied it around his waist and half climbed, while Matt half pulled him, onto the balcony. “Hello,” he said cheerily, “Right, who's first?”
“She is,” said Matt, helping the fireman to untie the rope from his middle and then tying it around mine.
“Lower yourself gently, love, that's right,” Matt was practically pushing me over the balcony. Left leg first, then right leg, until I was standing on the tiny ledge. “Now you've got to jump out, push yourself back, and Gary'll catch you,” the fireman said. I looked behind me. Gary was balanced at the end of an extendable ladder, which was in turn perched inside an hydraulic lift.
“OK,” I nodded. Matt kissed me quickly and I sprang away. Gary caught my flailing legs and pulled me onto the ladder, guiding me down by my arse. I was shaking and crying and thinking I was going to to sick, but I was in the lift.
I looked up and Matt was performing the same operation. As he flew through the air, rope slack, arms back, knees bent, I wondered if he was going to make it, but Pete grabbed hold of him and pulled him down the ladder. The fireman on the balcony tied the rope back around his own waist and joined us in a similar manner.
The lift was sucked back into the engine, amidst great whirring. I could not take my eyes off the tower block in front of me. One side had almost completely gone. Everything was orange. Big, black clouds of smoke kept billowing out of the broken windows and floating off into the night sky. The smell was horrendous, acrid, not like a bonfire, more like burning plastic. It filled my mouth and nostrils.
We staggered out of the lift. I had lost my shoes. I think I left them on the balcony. We had been getting ready to go to a party. I was wearing a short black dress, with netting underneath, so it flared out from my thighs. We wandered about for a bit. It was chaos. So many fire engines and ambulances. No-one came to talk to us. We did not know what to do. I decided I needed a stiff drink and we went to the local pub and I drank cider, very quickly. My head spun.
“We're in shock,” I said, “We need sugar, chocolate, anything.”
“Alright, but we better go to the party and tell Pete what's happened.”
Pete was Matt's best mate. He lived on the thirteenth floor, but he had set off early to help set up the party. We were pretty sure that he was OK, because he had knocked for us and we had said we had to finish our dinner and he had said “I'll see you there”.
We left the pub and started walking. We knew where we were going, but everything seemed a bit confused. The whole world looked different. I went into a corner shop, to buy some sweets, and was surprised to see that they sold Kendal Mint Cake. I remembered this from my outward bound courses at school. Very high in sugar it is an excellent antidote for shock. We stood outside nibbling on this peppermint chalk.
Eventually we made it to the party, which was being held in the social club of a local mental hospital. Staggering in I think we made quite an impression. Everyone turned and looked at us. We were covered in filth and I was not wearing any shoes. Matt walked straight up to Pete and said “Your flat's just burned down mate.”
Pete looked up from his pint, still laughing at whatever was said before we arrived. “Come again.”
“Merryhill Court, it's just burned down.”
A shock rippled across Pete's face. Ben came over. He could see something was wrong. Matt explained what had happened. Two brandys arrived. I started to cry. Two more brandys arrived. Ben said we could stay with him. Realising that we were probably best sitting down in a quiet room, Ben offered to give us a lift. As I rose to stand my legs gave way and blackness surged over me. I came to on the way to the car. Matt was carrying me. I looked up at him. The street lights were reflecting off his glasses. He stashed me in the car and carried me out at the other end.
Ben showed us to a small room at the top of the house. Facilities were basic, a mattress without a sheet, two sleeping bags, a distinct smell that meant the room needed airing, but I did not care. All I wanted to do was take my clothes of and get into bed next to Matt. I needed to feel his skin and his arms all around me. I was desperate for something soft and flat underneath me, that would not move or morph into a big dragon of a threat.
I put my head on his shoulder. He put his hand on my waist. “Can we get married tomorrow?” I said.
“Well maybe not tomorrow, but soon.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
“Do you love me?”
“Yes.”
“More and more every day?”
“Yes.”
Read more!
In any event, we learned to live on love and fresh air, because the air is always cleaner when love is in it. I asked to move in. He said “Yes, you can have the spare room”. I paid for the electricity to be re-instated, so we were not always sitting in the dark. He never threw me out of his bed. I never slept in the spare room.
His flat was immaculate. Despite having very little in terms of classy furniture, he made the best of what he had been given/scrounged/stolen. The lounge carpet was brushed daily (he did not have a vacuum cleaner). Dusting was done on a weekly basis. All ornaments were removed from the teak effect bookcase and replaced once both it and they had been scrupulously polished. The kitchen sink was not allowed to become stacked high with dishes. Food was eaten at a dining pine effect dining table.
It was the books and posters that captured my imagination. I had never seen so many. A whole archive of illustrated political activism was pinned to the walls. From the graphic images and headlines I learned about South Africa, the history of Trotskyism and the Cuban revolution. He had many books, some on shelves, but most of them were stacked, horizontally on top of each other, in the spare room. Matt was a kind of book orphanage. He wanted to be a collector, but lack of money prevented him from immediately achieving this dream. What he had were what people did not want any more, the 'surplus to requirements' tomes, the 'I can live without that' volumes. He gave them all a home and they were precious to him.
Two books in particular fascinated me, Marx's Capital, I and II. My Uncle Frank had told me that every miner, at least in Kirkcaldy, had at least two books in his library, Das Kapital and the bible. This could have been his old communist romanticism, but I do not think so. Frank was not a bullshitter. Having grown up under the same roof as mother and, therefore, necessarily as their father, he had somehow emerged as a conscious and caring individual. I was convinced that Frank would like Matt, and vice-versa.
Our lives amalgamated instantaneously. I had no thoughts of 'what if?' Unlike my previous relationships this one felt 'right'. We did not use any form of contraception, deciding that we wanted a baby. I was ready. He was ready. Being prepared to tie myself to this man for life seemed a natural conclusion of the love I had for him. Waiting and planning were deemed unnecessary. We were too caught up in each other to consider hurdles or walls and, in any event, love, like adrenalin, gave us legs and we could always build ourselves a ladder.
Since reading Anthony and Cleopatra, at the age of 16, I had been looking for a man who would fulfill “Let Rome in Tiber melt, and the wide arch
Of the ranged empire fall. Here is my space.
Kingdoms are clay; our dungy earth alike
Feeds beast as man; the nobleness of life
Is to do thus; when such a mutual pair
And such a twain can do't.” I did not want soggy love, or the love that already knows its own defeat, through fear, or selfish concern. I wanted a love that was prepared to risk everything. And so we did.
On Friday 13 July 1990 the block of flat we were living in burned to the ground. The fire started at some time around 7.00pm. We remained blissfully unaware of it until about 8.00pm, by which time it had taken hold of one side of the building and filled the stair wells with toxic smoke. We wrapped wet cloths around our faces and tried to run down the stairs, only to be beaten back by choking fumes. We returned to the flat. Fire engines arrived, lots of them. Matt went out onto the balcony to wave and attract attention. At first the firemen ignored him, as they concentrated on tackling the blaze.
We were confused as to why they appeared to have no water. From time to time the jets spurting out of their hoses stopped. More fire engines came. Residents of the local estate started ripping the fence staves out of the ground, so the trucks could get nearer to the building.
Inside, I soaked coats, towels and other items that I could be used to block the gaps in doors. I started at the front of the flat and effectively sealed us in, working back through to the balcony. And there we stood, for nearly two hours, watching the firemen try and fail to extinguish the fire.
Smoke began to fill the flat and I panicked. The hydraulic lifts fitted to the back of fire engines are only designed to reach up to the ninth floor, we were on the eleventh. The fireman below shouted something at us, but we could not hear him. Matt produced a tow rope, blue nylon, stained brown from use. “If it comes to it we'll have to climb down the outside of the building, jumping balcony to balcony.”
“We're fucking 150ft in the air and we've got one rope, how the hell are we going to do that?” I replied.
“Do you know how to knot?”
“Yes,” because I been on various climbing courses when I was at school, “But there's no knot I can tie which we can undo from 20ft away. The rope's not long enough to make it all the way to the ground”.
“We don't have to get to the ground, just to where they can reach us.”
I looked over the balcony. The earth rose up to meet my gaze. I felt very very sick. The glass, further along, in the part of the tower block where the fire had started, began to explode outwards. Shards rattled down on top of the firemen who were still struggling with their hoses. Massive flames leapt out where the fire had finally found some air. They licked up the side of the building like a hungry dragon.
“Hey, hey you!” It was a fireman on a platform. His face was very dirty under his yellow helmet. “We can't get the guys in with breathing equipment, the building's collapsing. You'll just have to sit tight.”
I fainted. Matt slapped me round the face. I started to scream. “Shut the fuck up woman,” he said, “Hysterics aren't going to achieve anything”. I was shaking. Every hair on my head felt as if 10,000 volts had been shot up my arse. My legs were liquid, like mercury, spilling about. I thought of poison, it would be better than jumping. If I jumped I might not die on impact. All my bones would get rammed into all my other bones. Sharp points of broken bones would slice into my muscles. My own bones would become arrows inside my body.
The fireman in the platform was waiting. “Look, I've got some rope here,” Matt said, shouting above the roar of machinery and noise of burning and exploding.
“Tie it and throw it down,” the fireman replied. I managed a competent knot. The coiled rope was thrown and the fireman caught it. He tied it around his waist and half climbed, while Matt half pulled him, onto the balcony. “Hello,” he said cheerily, “Right, who's first?”
“She is,” said Matt, helping the fireman to untie the rope from his middle and then tying it around mine.
“Lower yourself gently, love, that's right,” Matt was practically pushing me over the balcony. Left leg first, then right leg, until I was standing on the tiny ledge. “Now you've got to jump out, push yourself back, and Gary'll catch you,” the fireman said. I looked behind me. Gary was balanced at the end of an extendable ladder, which was in turn perched inside an hydraulic lift.
“OK,” I nodded. Matt kissed me quickly and I sprang away. Gary caught my flailing legs and pulled me onto the ladder, guiding me down by my arse. I was shaking and crying and thinking I was going to to sick, but I was in the lift.
I looked up and Matt was performing the same operation. As he flew through the air, rope slack, arms back, knees bent, I wondered if he was going to make it, but Pete grabbed hold of him and pulled him down the ladder. The fireman on the balcony tied the rope back around his own waist and joined us in a similar manner.
The lift was sucked back into the engine, amidst great whirring. I could not take my eyes off the tower block in front of me. One side had almost completely gone. Everything was orange. Big, black clouds of smoke kept billowing out of the broken windows and floating off into the night sky. The smell was horrendous, acrid, not like a bonfire, more like burning plastic. It filled my mouth and nostrils.
We staggered out of the lift. I had lost my shoes. I think I left them on the balcony. We had been getting ready to go to a party. I was wearing a short black dress, with netting underneath, so it flared out from my thighs. We wandered about for a bit. It was chaos. So many fire engines and ambulances. No-one came to talk to us. We did not know what to do. I decided I needed a stiff drink and we went to the local pub and I drank cider, very quickly. My head spun.
“We're in shock,” I said, “We need sugar, chocolate, anything.”
“Alright, but we better go to the party and tell Pete what's happened.”
Pete was Matt's best mate. He lived on the thirteenth floor, but he had set off early to help set up the party. We were pretty sure that he was OK, because he had knocked for us and we had said we had to finish our dinner and he had said “I'll see you there”.
We left the pub and started walking. We knew where we were going, but everything seemed a bit confused. The whole world looked different. I went into a corner shop, to buy some sweets, and was surprised to see that they sold Kendal Mint Cake. I remembered this from my outward bound courses at school. Very high in sugar it is an excellent antidote for shock. We stood outside nibbling on this peppermint chalk.
Eventually we made it to the party, which was being held in the social club of a local mental hospital. Staggering in I think we made quite an impression. Everyone turned and looked at us. We were covered in filth and I was not wearing any shoes. Matt walked straight up to Pete and said “Your flat's just burned down mate.”
Pete looked up from his pint, still laughing at whatever was said before we arrived. “Come again.”
“Merryhill Court, it's just burned down.”
A shock rippled across Pete's face. Ben came over. He could see something was wrong. Matt explained what had happened. Two brandys arrived. I started to cry. Two more brandys arrived. Ben said we could stay with him. Realising that we were probably best sitting down in a quiet room, Ben offered to give us a lift. As I rose to stand my legs gave way and blackness surged over me. I came to on the way to the car. Matt was carrying me. I looked up at him. The street lights were reflecting off his glasses. He stashed me in the car and carried me out at the other end.
Ben showed us to a small room at the top of the house. Facilities were basic, a mattress without a sheet, two sleeping bags, a distinct smell that meant the room needed airing, but I did not care. All I wanted to do was take my clothes of and get into bed next to Matt. I needed to feel his skin and his arms all around me. I was desperate for something soft and flat underneath me, that would not move or morph into a big dragon of a threat.
I put my head on his shoulder. He put his hand on my waist. “Can we get married tomorrow?” I said.
“Well maybe not tomorrow, but soon.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
“Do you love me?”
“Yes.”
“More and more every day?”
“Yes.”
Read more!
posted by morrigan nihil at 8:34 AM
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