In world peace because I have to.

In the afterlife because I want to.

That one day I'll be thin but cake.

That one day I will write my damn book but cake.

We can be kind, if not always, sometimes.

We can win against terror, not sometimes, always.

I was 12, I know this because it says so inside the cover, and I must have read it a million times, I know this because I can still remember the names of the places Milo visits.

The Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster

Finally, despite his protestations, I am now reading it to my 10 year old. I am beside myself. The 10 year old isn't beside himself, he's putting up with me because he's kind enough to let me get it out of my system. Every few months I dust it off and waft it about in his general direction, he's done fighting it now, this is something he needs to just push on through.

The best bit so far, for my son, is working out that I first read this book 36 years ago. How freaking hilarious is that? Very, when you're 10. Not at all, when you're 46.

Angry doesn't come close. I'm struggling to believe they didn't know, how could they not? You can't trip over nowadays without it going viral but this, this they kept quiet? Thanks to the world wide web we now know every bloody thing. Brad Pitt falls out with his missus and we know about it, we don't give a damn but we know. Otto the bulldog can skateboard and we can watch it on fricking YouTube. A sink hole in Japan was fixed in a week and it makes headlines but no fucker thinks we need to know about these freaking zombies?

Suddenly the undead are all over the place, today, not yesterday, no, this all happened today. Ha! Of course it did and nobody had a clue. Bullshit!

There's been an announcement from the government, apparently we are safe and they have it all under control. I lost faith in that bunch of tossers a long time ago and now out very lives are in their hands. The cuts to the military ain't such a good idea now huh?

For fuckety fucks's sake!

Nobody was ready for this. There's been no stockpiling of canned foods or bottled water. No digging of bunkers or building of walls. How long can any of us survive when we are so unprepared? Why didn't we know? Perhaps knowing would have been worse? Would it have made a difference? Could it have made a difference? Well we'll never bloody know now.

Fuck.

They knew. Someone somewhere knew. Makes me wonder if they simply didn't want us to be ready.

My Uncle David had cancer and there was nothing they could do. Two hours later I receive another phone call, my Nan had cancer and there was nothing they could do. My son, my first, was only four months old, the thought of anything happening to him keeps me awake at night even now, I could not, cannot, imagine the pain of outliving him. David was in Norfolk, my Nan in Bedfordshire, it was heart breaking enough that they wouldn't see each other again but I prayed, for the first and last time, that she would go before him, that she would die without ever knowing she'd lost her wee boy. She didn't.

According to those at Prose I have only two days left to demonstrate my writing talent so I'd best get on with it.

Obviously, the first thing that springs to mind, is to use long and pretty words. Words like Llanfairpwllgwngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch. My computer tells me that this is spelt incorrectly, it probably is but worse than that is the rather high chance that I pronounce it incorrectly too. Mrs Hartrey, my first ever teacher, taught me how to say this. I wonder, is this where she came from? Well I shall never know now as that was 41 years ago and I've no idea where she is now, she could be turning in her grave at my pronunciation. I hope not, I liked her, not as much as Mrs Toffs, I loved Mrs Toffs.

Anyhoo, there's my fancy word, now we should probably move on to some poetry. Poetry never fails to impress.

But I've already nailed that. Come on . . . . "those at Prose"

Damn I'm good.

What next?

A story? Now this is where I fall, I have little to no imagination. If it never happened I cannot write about it. This all leads me to an embarrassing halt. My word, as pretty as it is, is far too long to be of use. My poetry isn't so what now? My writing skills are poor at best so how do I impress a literary agency with only two days to go?

Oh, I've got it! I once met Robert Carlisle.

Damn I'm bored. This God malarkey is dull beyond words, or should that be worlds? Ha. Well there's not much point in being hilarious when there's nobody around to appreciate it huh? Perhaps it is company I crave? Hmm? Something or someone to amuse me . . . . or many someones? I'm God for goodness sake, anything is possible.

Right, which of my toys could sustain life? Not too hot so stay away from the Sun, or too cold so not too far away either. Maybe a little of everything should go into the mix, heat, a little cold, wind, some rain, this is fun. Land, yes, else where will the life live? Water is needed so there should be plenty of that. Now what kind of creature would amuse me the most? Big, small, furry, bald? All of the aforementioned in various forms, marvellous. I should pick one to lead, one species to govern and care for all the others, something in my likeness. A man to humour me, a hu-man. This is fabulous, why didn't I think of this before? Ah, he'll need to reproduce . . . I would hate to run out.

Splendid. So far so good.

Food . . . I shall start them off with the basics and see what they come up with. What's the worst that can happen? They all get hungry and eat each other? Haha, I'm being hilarious again.

Right, I think that's everything. Oh, oops, light and dark so they know when to rest, I'm hoping to be amused for millennia so let's not have them wearing themselves out too quickly.

Now all I need to do is sit back, relax and wait to be amused.

Wow, fire and the wheel. I did not see that coming.

*a few billion years later

Oh dear me, what have I done?

Other people sleep with strangers, not me, I'm not brave enough, reckless enough nor exciting enough, except this one time.

We'd been to the seaside, myself and my sidekick Mer. Her uncle had a cottage in Norfolk and it was ours for the weekend. It was just what I needed. I had had it up to here (the top of my head and then some) with men. We've all been there. I decided that what I needed was a dalliance with a stranger. The universe heard me.

We met them in a pub and decided to head to another nearer to where we were staying. They were local chaps, at least they seemed to know where we were going. I decided to dump my car and drink. I've never dumped my car anywhere, already I'm behaving out of character.

Clearly this was their local public house as they were very friendly with the landlord who sold Moonshine on the quiet. Did I want some? Yeah, why the hell not? By now I'm wondering who was controlling my brain? Moonshine? Really? Anyhoo, down the hatch.

I remember thinking I wanted rid of my rucksack. Oh yeah, I was cool, cool enough to wander around with a rucksack, I didn't look at all homeless. I took it to the car then returned to the pub with a distinct air of Fuck It about my person. The Moonshine had hit the fresh air and was kicking in nicely. Now this is where it gets interesting.

On my return, my stranger, put his arm behind me and ran his hand up my back. Now, as innocent as I'd like you to believe I am, he's not the first man to touch me but the first to make me shiver when he did. I'd never known a sensation like it. Suddenly I saw him differently and he was, for want of a better word, beautiful and I was sunk.

When I woke the next morning I couldn't stop staring at him. Nobody looks like that, not in real life. I dashed off to sort my face out before he woke up. Thing is, I do look like a normal real life person and no amount of lipstick will ever help me look otherwise but, on this occasion, I thought it best to try.

They stayed for breakfast. My stranger was funny, naturally funny and naturally 'oh my God' gorgeous. I needed to pick my car up so my stranger came to direct me, we chatted and laughed and arranged to meet later. I was floating. A ridiculous way for a 28 year old woman to behave. It was ok for him, he could get away with being reckless because he was 20, I should have known better. Oh yeah, you read that right, he was 20, not that I'm bragging or anything. I so am. Go me!

I went back to bed, it had been a long night.

I was woken by the phone ringing and in my haste to speak to my stranger I rushed out of bed and fell down a cast iron spiral staircase. I lay in a heap for a while wondering if I'd broken anything but no, by some miracle, I was unhurt but I had missed my stranger. I hit redial, the call had come from the pay phone outside the pub with the secret stash of Moonshine. That was that. Back home and back to being me, the boring me, the me that wouldn't dream of leaving my car, drinking illegal booze nor getting frisky with someone I'd met mere hours before.

Until. 

We fast forward a few weeks and we were staying at the cottage again. Who do we bump into in another pub? Yes, it's not rocket science, my stranger. Mer and I were on our way home, we'd only popped in for something to eat but he looked at me, you know, he LOOKED at me. 

Now, I'm the girl who's friends get all the boys. I'm the one the boys have as a mate. Not my stranger though, I could see it in his eyes, he didn't want to be mates. I thought the world would hear my heart pounding. We went back to the cottage for the afternoon. Both of us had somewhere else we should have been but fuck it, this was happening.

I was meant to go to Norfolk again but it was ages before I could and by then everyone had moved on. I heard, via Chinese whispers, that he'd wanted to get in touch but it was too late, by then I was living with the only other man to look at me like THAT. I've since married the only other man to look at me like THAT. I wasn't about to make the same mistake twice, if someone makes your knees go weak at the slightest touch then you need to make sure they don't get away. Not by keeping them in your cellar you understand but keep hold of them non the less.

Now, does my stranger count as a stranger? Can you be a stranger twice? Probably not but still, when I'm older and greyer and sitting in my comfy chair at the old folks home, the big cheesy grin will be thanks to him. I shall be day dreaming of the only time in my life I really properly didn't give a fuck. I thank him for that.