There is a magnetic corner of the globe, somewhere south of here and north of there, that is visible only from within.  There are those who are unconsciously attracted to this land, others may guilelessly chance upon it.  Some however, are abductees from abroad held captive as mere chattels, skivvy’s and such like, marooned in the service of the better off citizens.  It is thus that any and all would do well to take heed of my warning that in this place not everything is as it first seems.  There is no movable feast in an unvarnished Hell cleverly disguised as vestal dreamland.

To the inept eye all is possible in this impossible corner boasting, as it does, a society built on unlikely ‘either/or’ bedfellow foundations born of frailty and virtue, namely, malice and benevolence.  As to which of those twins holds sway at any given time is dependent upon the capricious pendulum of fate.  Once when eavesdropping, I heard tell that after ‘The Book of Impossible Things’ – a tome all citizens once held dear – was unwittingly ‘misplaced’ nothing was ever the same.  Needless to say ‘malice’ reigns supreme pro tem.

During my ill-fated stay here I have concluded any native tongue is understood by one and all in their own mother language and vice versa.  Those peopling this most cosmopolitan of places are much varied.  Black, white and a painter’s pallet mix of pigmentations in between, effectively chronicling the allsorts assortment that is mankind.

Being of tropical clime, the season never changes.  An unremitting summer persists, trapped as she is under the prevailing rainforest canopy. Additionally, daytime is forever overbearingly hot and sticky, humid, intolerable, yet beyond the witching hour the swelter remains much the same only scarcely less so.

I was delivered up by unenviable circumstance and am now a much altered version of former self. The revenant me longs to be homeward bound, to the place from whence I began.  However, since she, the one I covertly call Lucrezia, for I am not privy to her real name, robbed me of my station in time and claimed me as her glorified bondservant I have been lost to the virtuous world.

I am now known by just a number, 107345.  That is all there is, ‘que sera, sera’ as the fatalist might say.

65 thoughts on “107345

    1. Always think of the great storm 1987 (?) when driving home, stuck in the jam fallen trees had caused first a cat then an entire dustbin flew across my path when OZ gets a mention.

      1. I remember it well. I was living in Hampshire where it was really bad.
        What is the meaning of the number ? Did I miss something ?

      2. The day Sevenoaks became ‘Oak’! The number has no meaning save for it forming part of an old telephone number I once had.

  1. Perhaps a bit too close to reality… Or the impending reality re the political climate. If I am to be a number, may I choose which one? Because 666 sounds like fun!

      1. I note I am following you on Twitter yet, me being me, I keep forgetting to go into Twitter because everything seems to be over in a flash. It needs a directory of chums that is easily accessible twits like me could dip into!

    1. Cheers Dale, never discovered who the photographer/artist was although top left hand corner has a name printed on it yet that looks to be a commercial enterprise.

    1. This is a heavily edited piece I am not sure about written day 1, about 6 weeks ago’ish I guess re the book thing. In the old days would have got the ‘temper tantrum delete’ yet saved it to blog it to get a feel for reaction. Quite liked the opening line as it happens. Regardless of anything else I took your advice and kept it alive!

      1. Bloody hell Mike, I’d a fell out with yah if you’d binned this. it does not matter how heavily edited it is. Look at the reaction you’ve got. Thing is when it comes to tantrums and delete, even if you NEVER use the piece as such as it stands but you plunder it for parts, that’ s ok. It’s a great piece and I think people will read different things into it , for their own reasons.

      2. Cheers for a lesson well taught. Even bits for the book where I’ve wasted several thousand words I keep going back to finding bits the fit into a redraft. Certainly glad this piece has gone down OK as 107345 plus his ‘real’ name features in the narrations and in person throughout said tome. Slow going presently yet still enjoying the write. Got to a bit that has to be written ever so well or the whole thing falls apart! Might need to disappear from social media for a week or soon so as to make a real dent in the project.

    2. Sometimes the words just pill but other times it is like pulling tacks. Social media can be a time suck. The important thing is to keep going with what you’re doing, then you can get back to things.

      1. Tommy Cooper hats again presently. Poem here, fine weather coffee there, book writing daily (so slow but OK), Poetry book bits to proof and add bits about this and that so it’s complete…still, doesn’t feel like work, that’s the main thing!

      2. OOH the poetry book soon then eh?? You will get the book writing done. Fret not. Better slow than not at all. Also the weather has been good down south, you need to enjoy.

    1. I don’t think I could cope. Too hot and too cold are the two things that get me down. Perhaps I shouldn’t moan so much about the English climate!

      1. No, not at all. When we were there, I was complaining to my husband that summer in UK is still cold for me. But it was heaven for him. He didn’t have to seek shade or even worry about burning. Just so you know, I start thawing at 95°F (35°C). He he.

    1. True…I am still in deep thought about this unusual utopia. Can’t decide whether I should develop a location upon the planet for it and give it a name or leave both a mystery and just keep writing about its weird inhabitants.

      1. Yeah, better not say too much, it’s secretive business advocating against segregation . Seems slightly contradictory even. Some peeps are just cooler than others I gather

  2. Dear 107345, That’s not a fatalist, honey, that’s Doris Day. Ever yours, 3596284

    Dear Sir Mike, WOW! I’m still dipping my toe back in the blogging pool until I can commit to full-time again. I came to yours hoping to catch up on two or three I’d missed, and was disappointed there was only one since my last visit… But the superb quality of this one more than made up for the missing volume! I hope you and Shirl are doing fabulously! ❤

    1. Hope you are also Rachel. Lately I am posting just 2 maybe 3 times a week as writing, writing, writing all the time re this book idea of which 107345 features rather a lot as it happens. Are you feeling a tad better?

      1. I’m working on it. Fake it ’til ya make it, ya know? I can’t wait to read your book, and I’m still waiting on your poetry book to format.

      2. Oh dearest Rachel how could I possibly send you the poetry book when you have been so very ill. It’s my fault I’m useless at PC things. Tell me when you’re ready. By the way have they considered you might be ‘celiac’…the thought struck both Shirl and I after reading your last post. Her mum, Olive had it and from what you said your symptoms sounded remarkably like hers? The book thing is progressing yet it is a completely different mind-set to poems and skits as you know (I didn’t)…I struggle yet am enjoying myself. I’ve discovered ‘rude’ bits only work if what one has written don’t make me laugh! Keep laughing yourself though…best medicine there is. Did I ever tell you it took 4 months for them to diagnose me as diabetic during which time I had – according to the internet doctors – showed all the signs of having prostate cancer and G was only 9 years old at the time. Sometimes all is not as bad as it seems…stay being Rachel I say.

      3. You know, I need to check out the celiac thing for sure. My daughter was just diagnosed a couple of months ago, and she’s doing remarkably better now without it. I had no idea it took them so long to diagnose your diabetes. Tell me more. AND SEND ME YOUR BOOK!!! 🙂

      4. If you are sure then new poetry book will wend its way toward you anytime in the next 48 hours…please tell me if that’s not good…couldn’t sleep if I abused your kindness. I am stuck on the cover art yet fancy the title should be ‘The Shop That Sells Kisses’ based on my recent poem (that did rather well on WP) entitled thus. G saw it as a picture of a shop with big red lips as the awning…any ideas Miss Photographer? Keep us posted on the health matters…want to take coffee with you at Dover Castle one day!

      5. My thanks Rachel. Will get it across to you. Book wise I reckon autumn, winter by the time I add flesh to the skeleton…getting there slowly; punching above my weight and sometimes out of my comfort zone. Will give you a better idea when I message you on FB…and of course you shall have a copy when complete…a given that is! Cheers, will be in touch.

  3. enjoyed this !

    you caught me with your first sentence – [loved the Tolkienesque feel of the phrase ‘somewhere south of here and north of there’]

    great piece of writing – if this post is anything to go by, your book promises to be a good read !

    1. Cheers Duncan. As I mentioned to young Rachel I’m punching above my weight re this book thing…should have been doing this when I was 30 years not the 110 I am now. The old brain could cope better back then!

  4. ‘I am not a number’
    one man said
    on TV long ago
    Turns out that
    that’s all we are
    a prescient show
    Big balloons
    are hounding us
    and we are on the run
    Let’s stand like Spartacus
    the cry
    ‘My name is Jean Valjean!’

    Liking the sound of this book, Mike. Hoping for revolution in dystopian lands, wherever, whenever.

    1. Wasn’t he a chum of my old mate Les? 107345 does have a real name as you would guess prior to being a number, the curse is thinking of a better name than the WIP progress one he has presently. My wife’s assistance re said name thus far are frankly ridiculous! Funny though!

      1. I’ve changed names midway through writing at times then forgotten who was who. I should go with ridiculous till the end and then decide. Who’s Les?!

    1. My thanks…although not my chosen reading genre I think I can only put pen to paper in the surreal so I guess this is as good a place as any to start a story…at least I hope it is!

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