Part 3... Chapter 20... Distance, Silence & A Real Friend...

Afternoon Pen, I hope your all inked up and ready to go because I got much, many and more verbal to spill.

‘Thanks for the letter’. Are you fuking serious!!!… Is that all you can say?...How about...
‘Thanks for your letter. I…..’.

With as much blar, blar, blar as You could muster, but no. You could only muster up enough confidence to stretch a few words into a text blaring, ‘Thanks for the letter’…

He is a weak, fragile, debilitated feeble arse wipe of a man. An insult to the male species. I can’t say all men as 20% of the ones I know are… fuk writing about that. They are all fuking weak when shit hits the fan with a woman more than anything else in the world.
​
How He became the president of a biker club once upon a time many years ago miffs me to a giggle. And I need a giggle right now.

---

​After all the understanding I’ve been giving Him throughout our journey together. All the bollox I have had to put aside about Me to help Him along and then ask a friend to share their abode with this Cunt, because home life is such a struggle for Him. Boofukinghoo!
​
It seems He has been giving the green card to freedom grasping it as tight as He can with both hands. While the Jokers grin happily sits on his smug face He extends the middle finger gesture straight at me.

I just didn’t know how to react to His response. To show such hesitation to communicate currently makes me question His actions on the night in question even more…

What is fuking wrong with Him??? Who is He??? Does He even care about our situation??? Has It lost the use of its voice, like I have lost the use of my legs???
​
I certainly haven't lost my voice, and I know silence can sometimes give you the answer your looking for but without word from the horse’s mouth it’s no good dwelling on the what if’s. When you don’t have a memory of the same event yourself. ​​

---

I have a very close friend that I shall name here as ‘SailorBud’. As a young man many moons ago, he was in the Navy. He grew up just a few doors down on the same street upon which I live. Since I’ve known him he has been a stoner, a raver, an old hippy at heart and an amazing dad to two beautiful girls, one blond and one brunette.
 
I met them all through friends at Sandy Lane Fate, held down at Pennard, Gower. His two girls both dancing around like little fairies with beautiful thick long locks flying wild in the breeze, as they blew the downy tuffs of seeds from the heads of the dandelion weed.

​Taking my daughters hand under their delicate little wings, off they all went slowly dragging their feet through the long grass with laugher and innocent smiles.
Memories are there to lift the spirits if you bring the good ones to the front. Happy times. Both girls are grown up women now, I see Blondie more than Brunette.

---

Sailor comes over often to see me and shepherds me in Bud heaven. On one occasion as I lay in bed with pain, heartache, confusion, anger, loneliness in my own little world and everything else of doom and gloom.

He took my hand, placed it on the side of the bed, held it gently and listened as I ranted on and on all about me, me, me. Tears rolling down my face, nose snot blocked, eyes all puffy and red… He handed me a tissue and we both smiled with a quiet chuckle as I blew my nose louder than a horn. 

He packed a pipe and handed it to me…

A good man is my SailorBud… A true friend that asks no questions.
​

---