Tales From The Town #156: Film Studies

Int: The Kitchen (evening)

“Urgh,” said Claire. “I thought being off school on my own would be fun, but it wasn’t fun at all. It was awful!” She stamped her feet so hard to emphasise her point the water in the cat’s bowl rippled ominously. “Mum made Anna look after me because she was too tired and so I had to sit up there in Anna’s stupid room watching all these stupid films she watches at her stupid college for stupid students like stupid her! I’d have had more fun at school!”

“Anna’s not a student at college,” Ethel said. “She’s a postgrad at university.”

“I don’t know what any of that even means, Ethel,” said Claire. “You don’t even know what any of that even means. No one knows what any of that even means!”

“I know what it means,” said Tina.

“Yeah, well you would,” Claire said furiously, contemptuously, and also slightly contradictorally.

“I can’t believe you tricked Mum into letting you have the day off school, spent it watching films with Anna, and you’re still somehow angry about everything,” Tina said.

“I can,” Ethel said.

“You can’t,” said Claire, more out of habit than anything else. “And you’d be furious too if you’d had to watch that weird awful stupid nonsense with Anna. I mean, those films were so weird. So weird.”

“How weird?” asked Ethel. “Weird how?” asked Tina.

“There’s nothing wrong with being weird,” said Daniel, bouncing his hard boiled egg against the floor, up onto the wall, and back into his hand.

“There is,” Claire said. “This film was so weird it was made LAST CENTURY!”

“That’s not weird, Claire,” Tina said. “It’s just old.”

“It’s pretty weird if you think about it,” said Claire. “We weren’t even alive then! And Mum would only have been our age!”

“That’s still not weird,” Tina said.

“Nanny would have been Mum’s age,” Claire said.

“Claire, we know how time works,” Tina said. “Even Daniel does.”

“Yeah, so?” Claire said. “And it was in GERMAN!”

“That’s not weird, either, Claire,” Ethel said.

“It is!”

“It’s just… not,” Ethel said, shaking her head.

“And then it was just the same film over and over again!” Claire shouted. “Time kept repeating and this weird old german woman in this weird old german film just kept having to save herself over and over again! Why would you even watch that? What’s the point? Why didn’t she just do it once instead of over and over again?”

“Because – ”

“AND we didn’t even have any popcorn,” said Claire, finally getting to the heart of the problem. “Or ice cream. Or a chocolate bar. Or biscuits. I had to have carrots for lunch. And an apple!”

“I had yoghurt for lunch,” said Daniel. “And two oranges!”

“Shut up, Daniel,” Claire said. “And I bet they were satsumas. No way could you eat two oranges.”

“I could,” said Daniel.

“He did,” Tina confirmed. “One of them was yours.”

“So?!” Claire said. “What’s that got to do with films?”

“Maybe it’s symbolic,” Tina suggested.

“Maybe you’re symbolic,” Claire snorted.

“If anyone’s symbolic it’s you,” Ethel snapped.

“You don’t even know what symbolic means!” Claire shouted. “No one does. Especially not Daniel!”

She grabbed his stupid hard boiled egg and threw it into the bin so hard it bounced straight back out of the bin and into Daniel’s hand like magic. So then Claire kicked the bin over instead because that’s what she should have done in the first place.

“What’s any of this got to do with Daniel?” Tina asked.

“EVERYTHING!” Claire absolutely screamed as loudly and as wildly as she could directly into the camera. “EVERYTHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING!

CUT

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Notes:

1. Written on May 13th, 2024
2. This one was originally just going to be called This Film Is Old
3. But then I forgot and called it something else instead.

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Tales From The Town #155: Breakfast In Bed

“Argh!” said Agnes, as she was startled awake by Tina, Ethel and Daniel barging into her room as quietly as they could (which was not very quiet at all) at 7:48am on a Monday morning. “What’s going on?”

“We’ve made you breakfast, Mum!” said Tina, as she handed Agnes a cup of warmish chocolate.

“In bed,” said Daniel, as he held an egg cup holding a boiled egg above his head as proudly as if it was the world cup.

“Be careful with that egg, Daniel,” Agnes said. “The last thing I want is yolk all over the sheets.”

“It’s a hard boiled egg!” Daniel said. “Really hard! Look!”

He dropped it and then caught it neatly in the dainty china egg cup that was his favourite as it bounced up off the floorboards like a rubber ball.

“I see,” said Agnes. “Thank you, Daniel. But what are you all making me breakfast in bed for?”

“Because you’re ill,” said Ethel, who was holding a plate of burnt toast with a faint hint of embarrassment. No way could she do any tricks with this like Daniel could do with his egg.

“In bed!” said Daniel again, throwing the egg against the wall this time and catching it perfectly in the egg cup again before bowing for some imaginary applause.

“I was not ill,” Agnes said. She wasn’t allowed to ever admit to being ill, not even to herself. “I was just a bit tired.”

“For two whole days,” said Tina.

“And two whole nights!” said Ethel.

IN BED!” Daniel said for a third time, not because it made any sense to say it, but just because it felt like he should say it, just in case.

“Well, thank you very much everyone,” Agnes said. “It’s very kind of you. But I really wasn’t ill, you know?” None of her children looked like they believed her even slightly. “So, erm, where’s Claire? Didn’t she help?”

“She’s in bed,” said Daniel. “Ill.”

“Oh no,” Agnes said. “Poor Claire. She hates being ill. It makes her irrationally angry.”

“She said if you could be ill so could she,” said Tina.

“Then she said she’s not going to school today,” said Ethel.

“NOT EVER AGAIN!” shouted Claire from the other side of the house. “SO THERE!”

“Did you make her breakfast in bed too?” Agnes asked as quietly as she could.

“Daniel offered her his egg,” Tina said.

“But she threw it out the window,” Ethel added.

“That’s how we found out it bounced,” said Daniel, as he juggled the egg for a bit, caught it in its cup one last time, and held it out towards his Mum with a flourish.

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Notes:

1. Written on May 13th, 2024

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Tales From The Town #154: Paddling Pool

The best thing about the paddling pool, Tina knew, was pumping it up with the footpump, diligently stepping on the pedal over and over again and watching with pride as it slowly took shape.

The best thing about the paddling pool, Daniel knew, was slowly filling it up with the hose, watching the water form miniature rivers and lakes round the contours of the creases in its base. (If he could have emptied it out and started again every time the water got deep enough to submerge the hose he would have done.)

The best thing about the paddling pool, Ethel knew, was squealing and screaming as loudly and as long as you could while you splashed around in the water. You just weren’t allowed to shriek like that at any other time (except maybe on a rollercoaster, but who has one of those in their garden?).

The best thing about the paddling pool, Claire knew, was secretly turning the hose back on until it overflowed and flooded the garden in a manner as spectacular as a burst dam.

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Notes:

1. Written on May 12th, 2024

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Tales From The Town #153: Ill

“Urgh,” said Agnes, on repeat for the next 48 hours or so. “Just… urgh.”

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Notes:

1. Written on May 13th, 2024
2. But secretly sneaked back here to the 11th to fill in a gap.
3. That only arose due to ill.

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Tales From The Town #152: A Tower As Tall As Time

The tower stood on the island just beyond the horizon, walls as smooth and white as bone. It was older than the villages, older than the towns, older than memory, older than myth. It just was, and always had been. The tower was a monument to its own silence and immensity. It signalled nothing but itself.

It had about it an aspect of smoke, as if you could see through it at times, as if it was built from the constant movement of elements that took the appearance of stone but not the substance.

At night you could only tell it was there by the absence of stars, or the half-occluded moon, and even then at times you could swear you glimpsed them still. Lights, perhaps, from impossibly distant rooms.

Or more likely just inventions in our own minds, as they try to fill in all the gaps our eyes have a tendency to leave.

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Notes:

1. Written in May 2023
2. When I wasn’t feeling well
3. And now a year later I’m not feeling well again
4. Which is why I remembered this
5. I expect

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Patreon subscribers get not just early access to content and also the occasional gift, but also my eternal gratitude. Which I'm not sure is very useful, but is certainly very real.

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