Rolls Royce

They must’ve finished, most of the white Panavision trucks are gone. However, I did see, as I walked that part of the Prom a gorgeous old Rolls Royce, complete with wood interior strapped onto a pick-up. It was in pristine condition. And a couple of yards ahead of it, most bemusingly, was an old Ford, I think, with peeling paint and battered chassis.

Did something happen in Aberystwyth? I asked him when I went in to wake him. Are they commemorating something? I know Charles came here to study for awhile.

Oh, no, he said, they’ll just be using the Castle and the Prom.

They’d asked if I might participate but gave me so little time to respond that I missed the call. Ah, well. Next time, maybe.

It didn’t rain this morning, so no big coat. And it was mild. A few students were about. And a girl tripping along a back street in clickety-clackety heels and a white, sleeveless fringed-dress.

It changed the shape of my day. A phone-call, finally. And just when I was busy. She got married in San Francisco telling nobody. She sounded happy. Looked happy. Such a pretty girl. She makes me calm. She is steady. A rock, except for her little anxieties. What were they – spiders, flying, dirt? Are they little?  I walked up to work. It was gorgeous, I could see the whole town before me against a blood-red sunset.

I’m unsettled by my writing, why? Is it the exposure that is coming? Candid and funny, they wrote about hers. Is mine? She has so much more to lose, or does she? And then I find the competition. That’s nice. That’s something I can do to get it out there, to get it read.

Good fortune. He smiled. He was so happy. Well done. What have I done? It is fortune, good fortune. Our good fortune. And see, the sun is shining too.

So much to do. Don’t forget to breathe. Sometimes that is quite enough.

By Ellen Bell

Artist and writer currently living in Aberystwyth.