Based on the true events of 21/06/09…
I’d been so looking forward to today. My husband deserved those tickets to Rick Wakeman at Hampton Court, despite his protestations that we couldn’t afford them. He’d been a lifelong fan and it was a special concert of music the star hadn’t played before. So, despite the price of £120, I bought them secretly in January of this year – as a combined Father’s Day, anniversary and birthday present. The concert was in May 2010.
On Father’s Day I hid them in a box of chocolates and told the children to pester him for one until he opened it up. Which they did. Okay, okay,’ he grinned, ‘let’s all have a Rocky Road with a cuppa.’
The kids and I sat on the sofa and looked at each other with excitement as he fished out the bag of goodies and then two “cards”. He turned them over, his eyes widened and then filled with tears - he couldn’t believe I’d bought them. With flushed faces, the kids hugged their knees and gazed from their mum to their dad. Oh god – I was going to cry. So I stood up to make that cuppa. As I got to the kitchen door I glanced back.
But now his brow was furrowed and he mumbled something about the date. ‘May 2010’ I grinned, thinking he was pulling some joke. He bit his lip and slowly shook his head. The kids’ smiles dropped. ‘May 2009’, he said.
I gasped and he nodded, his face full of concern. And like a child my face crumpled and my hands flew up to my eyes. I released a loud sob. His tears of joy morphed into my tears of distress. And then anger – ‘How could I have been so stupid?’ I asked the room, and buried my head into his chest. Don’t tell me it’s the thought that counts.
When finally I drew away, my youngest came up. He looked at me, a glint in his eye, and those tears of anger suddenly morphed into tears of mirth. How we all laughed and wiped our eyes. And then I sobbed again. And then I chuckled. In the space of ten minutes I’d experienced a whole gamut of emotions.
And the point of this post? Emotions are the hardest thing I find to write. If my husband had slapped me around the face or torn up the tickets, if the kids had shouted out how foolish I was, or jumped up and down with hysteria, this episode would have been easier to describe. I find that action scenes, or those full of drama or violence, fly onto the screen. But when it comes to emotions, I stumble and falter. I find myself recurrently using phrases like ‘he bit his lip’, ‘her chin trembled,’ ‘their faces flushed’ - it all seems so unoriginal and crass.
So what flies onto your screen? Emotion? Sex? Violence? I suppose the only remedy for difficult bits is practise and reading lots.
I’d been so looking forward to today. My husband deserved those tickets to Rick Wakeman at Hampton Court, despite his protestations that we couldn’t afford them. He’d been a lifelong fan and it was a special concert of music the star hadn’t played before. So, despite the price of £120, I bought them secretly in January of this year – as a combined Father’s Day, anniversary and birthday present. The concert was in May 2010.
On Father’s Day I hid them in a box of chocolates and told the children to pester him for one until he opened it up. Which they did. Okay, okay,’ he grinned, ‘let’s all have a Rocky Road with a cuppa.’
The kids and I sat on the sofa and looked at each other with excitement as he fished out the bag of goodies and then two “cards”. He turned them over, his eyes widened and then filled with tears - he couldn’t believe I’d bought them. With flushed faces, the kids hugged their knees and gazed from their mum to their dad. Oh god – I was going to cry. So I stood up to make that cuppa. As I got to the kitchen door I glanced back.
But now his brow was furrowed and he mumbled something about the date. ‘May 2010’ I grinned, thinking he was pulling some joke. He bit his lip and slowly shook his head. The kids’ smiles dropped. ‘May 2009’, he said.
I gasped and he nodded, his face full of concern. And like a child my face crumpled and my hands flew up to my eyes. I released a loud sob. His tears of joy morphed into my tears of distress. And then anger – ‘How could I have been so stupid?’ I asked the room, and buried my head into his chest. Don’t tell me it’s the thought that counts.
When finally I drew away, my youngest came up. He looked at me, a glint in his eye, and those tears of anger suddenly morphed into tears of mirth. How we all laughed and wiped our eyes. And then I sobbed again. And then I chuckled. In the space of ten minutes I’d experienced a whole gamut of emotions.
And the point of this post? Emotions are the hardest thing I find to write. If my husband had slapped me around the face or torn up the tickets, if the kids had shouted out how foolish I was, or jumped up and down with hysteria, this episode would have been easier to describe. I find that action scenes, or those full of drama or violence, fly onto the screen. But when it comes to emotions, I stumble and falter. I find myself recurrently using phrases like ‘he bit his lip’, ‘her chin trembled,’ ‘their faces flushed’ - it all seems so unoriginal and crass.
So what flies onto your screen? Emotion? Sex? Violence? I suppose the only remedy for difficult bits is practise and reading lots.
