Find Another Place

by Ben Graff

  “Good morning things,” said I, jovially. I thought it best not to antagonise them – you know what it’s like when they get out of hand.

  “Splize,” said one of them earnestly, shaking his head up and down and laying a quivering tentacle on my left shoulder. “Yith, Splize. Splize. Splize!” said the other.

  “Come again, thing?” I said.

  “Splize, splize, splize…” they jabbered in unison.

  By this time they were jumping up and down and I must admit that I was beginning to feel a bit of an idiot. It was at that stage in the proceedings that I noticed a crowd had started to form on the other side of the street; luckily I had sufficient presence of mind to hail a passing taxi. I bundled the things in, gave the driver the address of my flat and sat back feeling that at last I was beginning to get things under control.

  It took a couple of hours and a lot of dry martinis (god knows where they put them) before I learnt their problem. Apparently it was the British weather. Every night when these things went to bed it didn’t matter how well they tucked themselves in, they just got too cold to sleep. They’d tried hot-water bottles, electric blankets, toasters, hot-cross buns – the lot. All to no avail. Now darling, if you get cold in bed or I get cold in bed there are plenty of things we can do about it. But we all know what happens to a thing when it gets too cold. That’s right, it shrinks. Thermal contraction you understand.

  Of course, as soon as I’d understood their problem I could only admire their intelligence and tenacity in approaching me for a solution – after all, hadn’t my fame as a cryogenic engineer spread throughout Southampton? Hadn’t my knowledge and expertise in the field of low temperatures been wondrously acknowledged by all at the Albany? You know, darling, I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pride deep inside me. They had come to me for help – and that couldn’t have been easy for them, being basically shy and timid creatures – and goddammit, I was going to help them.

  Pills. That was it. In the trade we laughingly refer to them by their technical name, “anti-shrink pills!” I know that’s a bit of a mouthful darling so in future I’ll refer to them as “pills”. There was one problem though; it’s often difficult to tell how a particular patient will react to a given pill, and so it’s advised that after the first dose has been administered the patient be kept under surveillance over a period of suitable coldness. I told them about the pills and explained that they’d have to spend a few hours in my flat after taking them so that I could check for possible side-effects.

  “Thankth yoth, thankth yoth,” they chorused. Their little heads were nodding up and down, tentacles flying around, beaks grinding together. Honestly darling they looked radiant.

  I gave them a pill each and tucked them safely into bed. They wouldn’t shrink that night I vowed! They fell asleep pretty quickly and so I thought “why waste an evening sitting here watching two things. I’d much rather be with Mary.” So I phoned you up and you came round and you sat on my lap and we watched those two dear little sweet things snoring away, blissfully ignorant of the consequence of other pills. But so were we for that matter.

  You noticed it first darling. Remember? One of the things started to grow. He started to swell out, like a balloon being pumped up, and before we’d had time to do anything about it he’d pushed his brother out of bed. Of course, you and I immediately helped him to his feet (all four of them) and the three of us tried to stop the expanding thing from getting any bigger. But it was no good.

  It’s obvious now what happened of course. I’d given our fat friend too large a dose, and so now the cold, instead of shrinking him, made him swell up. By this time he was floating two feet above the bed and the three of us were desperately trying to pull him down from above our heads. As I remember it that’s when we all fell on the floor, fat friend and all, and I realised that things were getting on top of us.

  But there was nothing I could do about it darling, I know you’ll agree with me there. He just got bigger and bigger. One of his tentacles had pushed the window out from its frame and the rest of him was slowly disappearing through a gaping hole in the ceiling. It was then that I knew that this thing was getting bigger than both of us.

  So we went out and had a good meal!

  All my love

  Colin

  xxx

  Diametrically Unopposed

  22, Kingsgate Est,

  Tottenham Road

  London N.1

  Friday afternoon

  Darling,

  At the moment I’m sitting downstairs feeling bored stiff and listening to a story on the radio about a hedgehog house. Very stimulating. So I thought I’d write to you because according to my calculations I owe you about nine letters. As you’ve probably gathered now I’m feeling completely better; after feeling ill on Wednesday. I think I’ve made an incredibly [word partly crossed out and corrected] (I can’t spell!) brilliant recovery, which is due in part no doubt to having heard about other poor souls who succumbed to the same complaint. I know you may find this hard to believe darling but I’ve had a three day bug which lasted for three days. By the way, before I forget, let me draw you a “tough old black boot.”

  (I won’t colour it black because I don’t want to spoil the overall aura of the sketch.)

  I must admit I am looking forward to meeting the new you. Are you going to take me out if I’m good darling? Perhaps as a special treat you’d take me to the theatre one day? Would you like me to buy some nice freaked-out ties?!

  Honestly you great big golumptious gook. It’s time someone told you that you in no way resemble a boot of any kind; I think of you in terms of silks & white & pale blue things and frilly dresses, to boot. Please don’t take what I’ve told you too harshly my little glushplush – after all, a man’s got to do what…

  Seriously though, it was very good receiving your letters & calls during the past week. Please don’t make the mistake of labelling me a sort of invalid incapable of taking any responsibility or difficulty. Actually, labels don’t worry me very much. I learnt a long time ago that there’s no point in worrying about people pinning the wrong label on you – thinking you’re thick when you’re really clever, brazen when subtle, etc. What you really are always comes out eventually; I know how much I carry & make no apologies for always wanting to do just that bit more. My attitude has always been one of outward aggression. One of the reasons I love you is that you know what I really am beneath the façade. I can enjoy being with someone like Janet for a limited length of time, during which we talk (or at least we think we do) about great profundities & philosophies & people; but it’s incomparably better to be with someone with whom one can talk not first to maintain some “image” but when one wants to say something. And then to be able to relax.

  I really can’t understand why we don’t talk more darling. You mentioned that in one of your earlier letters. The obvious reason is that there just isn’t time (that’s what I call a good sense of values!). But when we were in Southampton we had time. I suppose that when I was down there I was so busy arguing (which my “discussions” often descend to) with everybody that I wanted us to be in love. This business about people who are so diametrically opposed getting on so well is alright I suppose, but I’d rather be diametrically unopposed. Actually, I think that bit came out slightly wrong, still the point is that I love you apart from which I reckon you’re a smasher. There, the ultimate.

  From what you were saying on the phone last night I get the impression that you now think I find your presence somehow upsetting or disturbing. Let’s knock that one on the head right away (you as well if you’re not careful!). I wasn’t feeling particularly brilliant last weekend until about half an hour before I met you at the station; I should think it was obvious from the weekend we had that being with you was marvellous. Believe me love, when I tell you that you’re incredibly sexy & very passionate & very loving & womanly. You don’t talk a
bout what a woman’s got to do – you just do it! (No! No! No! I’m thinking spiritually. (I’m not dead either!) You’re not preggers. (I have my doubts about me but you’re definitely not!).

  I’ll be going driving tomorrow. I think I’ve discovered the reason I haven’t passed my test so far. No my love, it’s not because I can’t drive. It’s because I always drive on test as though I’m not a learner – I tend to be overconfident, this doesn’t make me drive badly but it tends to create the wrong attitude with respect to the examiner. I must try & be a bit more humble next time – how about me crawling to the car with a blank cheque hanging from my mouth?! Or perhaps you could don your se*y knickers & mini mini skirt & take the test for me. On second thoughts that’s not such a good idea because you might burn out the clutch. Or something.

  Darling, I love you. You must know that – don’t be frightened of loving me. Take care,

  Colin xx

  PS – It’s bad enough you have to spend so much on trains, let alone taxis. The enclosed is what I saved by not going to work.

  Another Bash

  22, Kingsgate Est,

  Tottenham Road

  London N.1

  Thursday

  11th December 1969

  Darling,

  I spoke to you over the phone a few hours ago. Since then I’ve been having another bash at my project & have actually managed to draw 2 graphs (I thought I’d manage at least 6 – this just about sums up my rate of progress on this damn report). It’s now 12.20 & I’m in bed. This means that at most I’ll get less than 7 hours kip tonight – what’s the betting that tomorrow morning my boss decides to put me through it & expects me to have a fresh and lively mind!?

  Darling, I’ve been thinking about you since we left Cannock & I think that you think I don’t love you or care for you. I think that you think I only want you physically & that I don’t really believe we have any future together. We have a lot of differences, darling – background, religion. Artistic as opposed to scientific interests etc. Don’t you understand that the fact we’re together now in spite of all these differences means that we are now in the process of overcoming them? I know that I can’t envisage being without you. I tried to explain to you once before that I didn’t think our weekend meetings were helping us to find and understand one another more; I’m definitely not suggesting that we stop meeting at weekends – what I’m saying is that it’s wrong for you to judge me by what you see then. I am not a sex-starved maniac who always wants to stay in & have early nights & watch television & read about football. Similarly – & this is more to the point in view of your present upset condition – you are not always tired & going off in huffs & needing me to lean on & wanting me to be physical and making me spend lots of money.

  What I’m trying to say is that we mustn’t judge each other by what we see at the weekends and that I want there to be a future for us & that at the moment the thought of being without you is just ridiculous.

  I am about to fall asleep, my eyes are watering and if I don’t stop now I’ll probably die. Darling – I may not write you bloody 9-side foolscap essays every day & I might not tell you every 35 seconds that I love you.

  But I love you and I want you to love me and I really do care about you & whether you like it or not I’m going to look after you. Your problems are my problems darling.

  Love Colin

  Letter continues on a separate sheet of paper–

  Darling,

  I’m not at work having spent most of the morning talking to Geoff about my results. I thought I’d slip this in quickly before I posted your letter. It was hard luck you not getting the flat with that woman but I must say that she sounds a bit drippy and you’re probably better off without her. Try & remember that you’ve only been in Bristol a few months now & it’s bound to take some time for you to find your feet there (although from what I know about your feet it shouldn’t be too difficult). I remember that after you first started work you were complaining about not knowing anyone down there & not having many friends. Well I know that things have improved a bit in that direction & that you do go out sometimes, even if it’s only to metal-work classes! Well, it’s a start darling. You’ll soon find a flat darling & a bird to share it with (with whom to share it?).

  Just stop trying to take too many problems on your shoulders & stop worrying & scheming & try & remember a few good things. Like that heatwave we had in Southampton, & that time we bumped into one of my lecturers at 8.30 in the morning!

  We’ll do a lot more things together love. Take care, stop crying, and start thinking about the things that are right instead of concentrating on what you think’s wrong.

  Love,

  Colin xxx

  Cars and Fred

  22 Kingsgate Est

  Tottenham Rd

  London N.1

  13/2/70

  Darling,

  I love you. I suppose one day I’ll get the message across but until then I’ll just have to batter away in the only way I know. It was very disheartening to listen to you on the phone last night informing me that I never thought about you, didn’t miss you & was probably going out with someone else anyway. At the moment I feel a little bitter about the way things are; you know that things are a bloody nightmare at home and I’ve told you over & over that I need you. When you talk to me the way you did last night it’s as though you’re throwing everything back in my face. I seem to have acquired a skill for alienating everybody, even you. Stop attacking me darling – you’re the one person I can’t fight back. Also, please don’t present me with ultimatums. Of course we’ll go and see Fred. There’s no need for you to emphasise that you’re going whether I’m coming or not. Do I ever say things like that to you? Did I say come to Jamie’s place or I’ll take someone else? Of course not. No relationship can thrive on that sort of thing. I’m now convinced that you don’t know how much I want you. This is probably because I don’t say it over & over again. But can’t you understand why? Little kids of 16 & 17, when they go out have a knack of really falling in “love” & saying so over and over again to each other. This is probably partly to convince themselves as well as each other. Well I don’t want that. You’ve read all the books & poems about love & so you should realise that it’s something essentially very deep. There should be no need to repeatedly state the case; no darling – don’t twist what I’ve said and regard me as an opponent of affection and lovingness. You know me better than that. I love you so much that it hurts and the only thing that’s going to make things work out between us is mutual respect based on our love for each other.

  Stop telling me I don’t love you. That’s my first and last ultimatum to you!

  And now to more mundane matters. The next week at work is going to be the most crucial week of my career so far – and I’m not kidding. The experiment I designed is undergoing its final tests & we should have the results in about 10 days. This is a very nail-biting time. Everybody knows that my reputation is staked on the results; my boss has promised me a bottle of whisky if it works. I’m not sure what I’ll get if it doesn’t. The boot, probably. So keep your fingers crossed for me – I can’t cross mine at the moment because I am too busy touching wood!

  I’m still looking round for a car. I’ll be taking Dad’s car into work one day next week just to see how long it takes me. I’ve also worked out routes to Bristol & Fishbourne by car. Things’ll be much better when we have transport, you’ll see.

  Right now I feel incredibly frustrated and I want you here very much. Just think of being snuggled up in a nice warm bed – just the three of us!

  Returning to the Fred weekend, it’ll have to be the 6th March because I’ll have business to attend to in Southampton on the 21st – graduation day! (I hope!)

  Don’t worry, I won’t put my foot in it… I’ll read up a few arty & sociological books before I go so that we can all have a nice quiet weeke
nd discussing the theatre & pictures & politics etc.

  Don’t underrate me Mary. I’m not like some of the twits you’ve been meeting lately. I suppose that it’s partly my fault that you sometimes misjudge me because I don’t always say what I’m feeling. I’ve tried to explain that.

  I need you, I want you, I love you.

  Plain enough?

  Now go away & look forward to next weekend.

  Love

  Colin

  X

  All We Can Keep

  20 Stockmead

  Langford

  Bristol

  April 27th, Monday

  My Darling,

  Once Jim said (and I didn’t agree with him) that all we can keep in life is memories. I keep seeing you on Saturday night & there is some truth in what he said. The first time I stayed with you & so many other first times for me I will remember. You are so gorgeous.

  You know what I mean, even though it is obscure. (I am afraid that this letter might go astray like the others did & then I would be forever wondering what had happened to it!)

  Anyway darling I’m delighted to know that you are O.K. & that work is bearable & that it’s mathematics forever. I’ll show you just how much I know about maths (“O” level Standard – below rather!).