English Tuition Bolton Manchester Creative Writing: Sidney and the door.

Robert Browning’s Dramatic Monologues are very much in evidence this teaching year and I have also enjoyed the excellent Grantchester on ITV recently. The combination of the latter’s hero ‘Sidney’ and the rather chilling but compelling monologues of Robert Browning : particularly The Laboratory, Porphyria’s Lover  and My Last Duchess inspired this bit of fun yesterday. Odd how you can start off writing about doors and paths and suddenly  find your character has a secret desire to become an Elizabethan adventurer! 

I like your door. It makes me smile just to think about it and I do. People were not as full-bodied when your house was created. They existed in more perilous times, loving less generously, but perhaps more dangerously.  The very act of stooping and inclining my head as I enter your house invigorates me. I become a sea faring gentleman adventurer. My name is Sidney. I have seen other worlds aided by only the simplest, most rudimentary of maps. I carry with me trophies from my travels and you are breathlessly pleased to see me safe. We have so much to say but propriety dictates we remain courteously shy; we exchange only reticent shards of conversation, whilst our eyes blaze with our souls’ true intent.

How I digress!

But truth will out and I am an honest adventurer after all.  When I have time (and I often do nowadays since the accident) I let my mind wander up your path, very, very carefully, for anticipation is an art. And I am an artist adventurer where you are concerned.   I appreciate each movement I make towards you.  You know I even venerate all the work you have done to move on with your charming garden. And you have moved on. I know that sounds a little clichéd but you see I do so appreciate all your labour. I have noticed.  I have taken note just like I am doing now.  This is my book and one day, perhaps not too far from here we will sit down and read it, together.

Your door is tucked away like an exquisite secret. Who would think that such an address as yours would become so beautiful to anyone? But it is. You are the Mona Lisa of suburbia. The Queen of the cul-de -sac. I would call your door my treasure but that may be too precipitate and courtesy governs my life. I am gallant to my toes.  

 You know, each time I visit, I feel this surge of joy because you are on the other side of the door. Ok, I accept that sometimes you are cooking or you are  at  work or even on  holiday, but I can wait and I do because I am so very  patient: I ‘ve learned to be. Not originally patient mind you, not born patient if my memory works as it should, but now in this later period of my existence , well I am Mr Stand and Stare.  I take a deep breath, think of you and just pause. I do so appreciate time’s kindness to me. Sometimes it feels like a stretch, so I go away. I write it down here now as simply away. Yes, I can feel tranquil even serene. No turmoil. No ranting in my head. I leave you my card. I even have developed this graceful routine of sort of gliding away. Like a swan on a wintry Lake.

Isn’t that interesting as come to think about it all, I do know a lot about nature in winter. I was brought up in a place where we rarely saw sun. Everyone wore felt hats and gloves because it was too cold to care about touch. So no one cared and no one touched except to procreate and so we were all born sealed within ourselves somehow. Even now, years later, I hesitate if someone holds out their hand to greet me. ‘Oh my goodness, what is this thing coming towards me?’ People have been kind though.

So I am glad to be here, on your path or in my room thinking about the new plants beside your window, the brave new colours I can see in your living room now you are looking to the future and want a big change. Guess what? I am the answer to your prayers.