Tales of Epoch Was 1

Just what a 1Xtra DJ would say, “Big up yourself”. Yep, Tales of Epoch was 1 last Wednesday. Seems a long time ago I was persuaded by Coldbrain to start up a blog, and although highly sceptical at first, I’m glad I did. What better way to express your feelings and views than scribbling it down on a blog instead of letting it slowly build up in your head, bit by bit, gripe upon gripe. Until one day when a person at the counter asks if you’d like sugar in your coffee. You shout, “No, I’m not an idiot I can do it myself!” And then thirty seconds later sheepishly go back to her and explain you didn’t know it wasn’t self service and could she put in two spoonfuls worth.

I should have written this last Wednesday but recently I’ve been under the time-management kosh. You see, I’ve enrolled on a Spanish course so I can roll my RRRs and not sound a prat when I’m next in Madrid, trying to wax lyrical the locals after I’ve had a few San Miguel’s. There is a lot of work demanded of me, well from me. I do genuinely want to learn this language and the only way to truly understand it is start digging into the technicalities and linguistics of it all. I’ve spent hours on end reading a grammar book, ever so often I’d bring myself up for air and think, ‘come to think of it, I don’t know much about English grammar’, and for a few moments I just sit there paralysed thinking should I be learning the grammar of another language when I can’t remember my own? What’s past participle again? Eventually, the reasoning element of my mind charges through and says, ‘stop putting things off by thinking you should be learning something else and get back to that book.’ So I delve straight back into learning all about irregular verbs and try and soak it in. And that’s my greatest weakness, I’m not a very good sponge. When I read about grammar and verbs or learn how to spell words I really feel it’s quite easy to get the hang of, at the time. However after a few hours I can’t remember anything I’d learnt. It just seems to fall out of my head and be replaced by trivial information like, ‘I wonder what DVD I’ll buy next’. So to tackle this I’ve started to write key things down in a little book which I bring with me to work, and ever so often I’ll take it out of my bag and give it a quick glance so I don’t forget. It does look like I’m scribbling extensive notes on my colleagues though. Other than that it seems to be going well but the recommended 7 hours a week study is a bit of a fib, it’s more like 10 hours. I hope that I can break into a routine soon so that I can spread my time between studying and loitering around various places and passing it off as socialising.

Here’s something mildly entertaining for you










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“Arghhh” He screams in frustration at the realisation that he doesn’t own his life. He’s got freedom within a room set up by Gregor but if he was ever to want to leave that room, Gregor would be right behind him.

Charles stops besides a brick wall and starts smacking his head against it. The first blow hurts but as he thrusts his head back and crashes it against the brick over again the pain starts to feel satisfying, almost like a counter balance to the anguish of not being free. And even if he is free then the pain of being too much of a coward to actually walk out of the room needs to be dealt with. Finally he smacks against the wall so hard he staggers back a few paces, his head dizzy and the image of Gregor gone. Literally smacked out. He sits down for a moment to rest. He promises himself that this will be his last job for Gregor, he wants to escape him, and he’s willing to take him and Marla to another country to do it, he thinks. The money from this robbery will be enough to help him in any decision he makes but first he must complete his task.

He gets up and wipes away the blood from his forehead, but it keeps pouring from the scrape until he gives up and carries on walking with it gradually trickling all the way down to his lip where his tongue instinctively laps it up. Its salty taste sobers him from the dizziness and he full begins to focus his mind on getting collecting good solid information about the two that work in the garage.

He approaches the garage. At first he considers waiting outside but after some pondering he feels it’s best to go inside and find out any information he can as that’s the main source of it. Charles begins to walk to the garage but just as he approaches the doors he realises that they’ll be shut now and everything will have to be done by the unoccupied shutter window. Cursing himself for not realising early in the evening he pulls out a cap from his pocket and nestles in on his head and begins to walk around the back of the garage. At the back is an old red Vauxhall Nova with sprinkles of rust all over it. Charles retrieves his mobile phone and starts writing out the registration number on his mobile phone and then takes a photo of the car. Just in front of the car is the garage back door which looks locked, Charles has no means to open it with out causing a lot of noise so turns his attention elsewhere. Behind the car are bushes that rise up as the eye continues to look further on and just to the right seems to be a man-made pathway. Charles walks towards the pathway taking a few steps into it as it opens up into a small circle of green littered with cigarette butts. He kneels down to inspect them and notices they are all hand rolled. He notices there are no trees towering over this green patch allowing the sun or moon to pour its light on the area. It is a unique place considering everything around looks so homogenous.

A creaking sound from behind him makes him realise that the back door is opening.