Amelia Dyer – the beginning

20140127_23113327-01-2014 Monday


So, as I was saying, I was making tea for us and Mr Bent came into the kitchen with his dowsing rod in his hands. He looked at the rods and played with them a little. Trying to hold them in different ways to make different geometrical shapes. While he was fidgeting with those darn things he said, in his thoughtful deep dark voice,’ You know, I’ve actually never quite understood these things.’ That’s when he threw them out of the window.

We stared at each other for a couple of seconds and then burst out in laughter. You should have seen the look on his face. He was dead serious when he said it and just chucked them out like that. I hope nobody was walking by at that very moment. He said he had something better for me. Well, actually, two things. Another story, and, what was even better, a book! The book he had been looking for wasn’t for him; it was for me. I made a picture of it to show you. It has got all kinds of freaky ghost stories about London. Sometimes I wish school made us read these kinds of books, they are way more interesting than things like ‘Gone with the wind’ or ‘Jane Eyre’

When tea was ready we sat ourselves down in sitting room, somewhere amidst all those books. Mr Bent said it was ok to just make a chair out of books if I wanted to. I thought it would a bit disrespectful, so I just threw some books on the floor and sat down on the sofa (I know, bad idea) while Mr Bent settled himself on one of the few … no, rephrase … the only free chair in the room. Which, as you can understand, wasn’t free anymore now.

He asked me if I had ever heard of a woman called Amelia Dyer. The name didn’t really ring a bell. Even after thinking really hard with my little thinker I couldn’t think of anyone who goes by that name. Even though I kept thinking Mr Bent was already saying it was useless to go on thinking. Amelia Dyer has been dead for a long time now; for over a century already. The world might be better off without her, too. She was not the nicest of woman.

‘For this story,’ as he added a little more bass to his voice,’ I have to take you back to the late 19th century. It were different times then, what with Jack the Ripper about, stirring up life in London. Great many killings were going on at that time and not all of them were done by dear ol’ Jacky.’

A loud noise of things falling filled the room.  It made an awful racket. We looked round us to see if we could see what had happened. A bunch of books fell down from one of the shelves and on their way down they had knocked over a quite inexpensive vase that shattered into pieces as it hit a very thick book. Mr Bent couldn’t be bothered. He took of sip of his tea, which was still piping hot, and swallowed it as if his throat was made of lead. Maybe that comes with old age, I dunno.

I will have to continue my story tomorrow. I can assure that it is going to be amazing. Though it’s a bit sad too. My bed is calling me and I can hear it calling me over the song I’ve been hearing in my head all day. Does everybody have that? A song that just gets stuck in your head for days and you can’t help but humming it or singing it in your head. The most frustrating thing is that I keep on repeating one bit of the song because I forgot the lyrics to the rest of it. All day long I’ve been walking around singing the same two lines, then I pause for a bit – there are more lines but I just don’t know the words – and finish with the last line of the verse and head into the first line of the chorus ending in a lalala, because I just don’t know the rest of the bleeding song anymore. I hope I am the only who has this, I wouldn’t want anybody else to suffer like this. See me tomorrow.

26-01-2014 Sunday

Mum’s shopping spree was a great success to that  respect that we didn’t get into any arguments, at least not a lot. Of course she had to point out my chubbiness every now and again whenever I needed a larger size of anything. I suspect her of deliberately picking clothes one or two sizes too small, just so she could make her statement. Maybe it would have worked better if she weren’t size elephant herself.

I found some pictures we took on Christmas day so I’ll put them up on Facebook. Oxford Street is not my favourite place to be in London, but it’s got a lot of shops and it sells what Mum wants to buy. I know that there are nicer places to go to, but Mum does not want me to go shopping at a place like Camden. She’s just acting posh. I happen to love Camden and it would have given me a chance to get some Yumchaa tea and velvet cake.

So, what did I get? I got: two pairs of jeans, three shirts, some new underwear and socks, a tie, and a lovely woolly hat that Mum hated but I loved. Mum says it messes up my hair, I said that if she didn’t want it to mess up my hair, she should see to it that I got a proper haircut that cannot be messed with. That was more or less the only argument we had. Today was a good day.

If you were wondering about my Dad’s whereabouts, he was at home. Mum had made an entire list of chores for him to do while we were out shopping. It was a list of mostly things that had to be fixed, repaired or mended; men stuff. Dad likes men stuff. Makes him feel useful. So, by the time we got home everything was more or less fixed. The tap was still a bit leaky and one of the kitchen cabinet doors was gone, but other than that, perfect.

After dinner I went to see Mr Bent. That man must be impossible to live with. Piles of books and papers blocked the door. He had to get all of that out of the way first before he was able to open up the door for me. Inside it was like he had emptied his bookcases and thrown everything onto the floor, it was a gigantic mess. I have told you about his condition, this must take ages for him to get back onto the shelves again.

After I had finished staring at the carpet of books, I asked Mr Bent,

‘What on earth happened here?’

‘ I was looking for something,’ was his reply.

‘ But,’ pause for dramatic effect ’WHAT!?’

‘ Just, some book I thought I had somewhere.’

‘ Mr Bent, please, don’t tell me you threw all your books on the floor, just because you were looking for one in particular?’

‘ Yes, and my efforts paid off; I found it.’

‘ Well, at least you’ve got that going for you, which is nice. But what

about this mess?’

‘I’ll start putting back those books tomorrow. I think I’ll put them back in alphabetical order. That might be the wisest thing to do.’

This is where he more or lest started mumbling and talking to himself. It became inaudible to me, so I tried looking him into the eyes and said,

‘ Can I help you?’

This questions woke him, it was as if it was his cue. As if someone suddenly pressed ‘play’.

‘ No, I’m beyond repair, love. Besides, what else is there to do for an old man like me?’

Can you believe it!? For one book that he’s probably not going to read anyways, because he’ll forget. At least he made me make tea this time, which is already a big change for him. He never lets anybody do anything for him.

While I was making tea, Mr Bent came into the kitchen with the dowsing rods. Of course he had an amazing story tell as well. Mind you, it had nothing to do with the dowsing rods; totally unrelated to each other. The story will have to wait till later this week, because I am deadbeat and really have to go to sleep. I got home at 22.30 and Mum was not happy about it. See me tomorrow.

Dowsing Rod (For Poking Out Eyes)

22-01-2014 Wednesday


Either Mum’s cooking is getting better or my taste buds are numbed because of the flu. I hope it’s the first one, I fear it’s the latter. I’m afraid that as soon as my nose is unclogged and my taste buds start working again, the food will taste just the way it has always tastes. I’ve got to face the, the name and the looks of the food change, but the taste stays the same. Let’s enjoy Mum’s cooking for the time being.

I looked into the dowsing rod thing on the Internet. Maybe I should cancel my order with Mr Bent. You could poke somebody’s eyes with those things; they’re bl**d* dangerous! Knowing me, poking out eyeballs is probably what would happen when I’m handling the rods. Most likely, eyeballs would probably be the only things I’d find.

Internet says dowsing rods are meant to find hidden things (eyeballs aren’t very hidden, are they?), but mostly wells and watery areas. I’d probably find the bathtub with my Mum in it (YUCK!) or all the puddles outside at the end of a rainy day. Besides that, I think they work more or less in the same way as Ouija Boards; you control the rod’s movement without knowing you’re doing it yourself. Nope, dowsing rods don’t look to me like the ideal machines to find ghosts and the likes.

I feel a lot better today. Tomorrow I might actually go to school. We’re going on a field trip on Friday and I wouldn’t want to miss that. Well, it’s not really a field trip, it’s a museum trip. We’re going to go to the Natural History Museum. There’s this school project on dinosaurs and we’re supposed to gather information at the museum and write some reports on it or something. I don’t know the details because I have been ill for a couple of days and nobody has been filling me in on this. Maybe I should contact someone myself.

If I am not mistaken we were also supposed to work in groups, which means that I am in a group of 1. Schools think that teamwork teaches you valuable lessons and makes a job so much easier. I think that’s a load of codswallop. Group members only slow you down, you irritate the h*ll out of each other and there is always one who doesn’t do a single thing yet he still gets the same mark for work that others have done for him. I’d rather stick to my group of one, thanks.

Cheddar just came by to see what was keeping me. I think Cheddar’s gotten used to lying on the sofa with me. That’s it for now then, see me tomorrow.  Image

My Brains Will Fail Me (it’s a fact)

17-01-2014 Friday

Today I tried to apologize to Evelyn for all the times I laughed at her stupidity, but I couldn’t find the words so I just said,’ Hey Eve … What’s up?’ I didn’t really wait for a response; I just backed off and walked away. Where’s Grandma and her words of wisdom when you need it!?aWZLB7d_460s

I am looking forward to this weekend. Mr Bent told me he had a dowsing rod for me and he was going to show me how it works and all. He actually came to our house to tell us that. Maybe he is gaining in on me on social skills. Should I talk him into getting a Facebook page as well? … Naah, he would probably be the Facebook Recluse or something. Like, as soon as anybody would send him an invite, he’d tell them to sod off, because he just wants to be the Facebook Recluse.

Sometimes I wish Mum and Dad had made me a brother or a sister. I just don’t think they wanted the agony of either having another kid like me or having sex again. Maybe it was both. Although the fear of having another socially handicapped child might have been a far greater issue judging by the noises I sometimes hear at night. Who needs biology classes!? All I need is a narrator.

Today’s blog is not really a coherent story, maybe it’s because I am still thinking about Evelyn a bit (just a bit!) (alright, just a bit too much). Everything is just spinning around. My thoughts are going everywhere,’ I should have said this’, ‘I should have done that’, ‘Stupid me’, ‘What if…’, ‘Maybe next time…’ and so on. It’s incredible how these things work. You’ve got it all worked out in your brains, but when push comes to shove, your brains just fail you. They let you down time and time again.

Same thing goes for talks in class. No matter how much I practise these things at home. I lie in bed at night going over every single detail. First I will say this, my next point will be that, followed by these slides, etc. Then when they ask this, I will show them that and tell them this. The teacher will probably ask this, so I will give him that answer. As soon as you face those kids and the teacher in class, my brains go like,’ Who am I? Where am I? And what was I supposed to be doing here?

I guess it’s time to go to bed and go over all the things that are probably not going to happen the way I am going to think about them tonight. See me tomorrow.