by Gill James
a stiff drink
Do you remember, she bought us flowers? Simple ones. They were white. Roses and lilies. We kept them with us as we wandered up and down the A6, going to meeting after meeting. We tried to convince them they were wrong, that what they were doing was unjust and illogical.
Gradually the flowers began to wilt. Just like we were wilting.
When we came out of the toughest confrontation others were waiting to go in. They whispered “They’ve got flowers? Why have they got flowers?”
We smiled as we let them think we’d been awarded some sort of prize or maybe a type of compensation.
We were magnificent. We made them listen. We kept our dignity. The flowers gave us power.
Two years on we’re the stars. We did convince them in the end. They needed us. Now we’re under pressure to keep up the performance we promised we’d give.
We manage it, mainly.
Maybe she doesn’t though, the one’s whose brilliant idea it was that we should walk around with dignity, clutching our bouquets.
Soon we may need to buy her flowers.
About the author
Gill James is published by, amongst others, Tabby Cat Press, The Red Telephone, Butterfly, The Professional and Higher Partnership and Continuum. She is a Lecturer in Creative Writing at Salford University.
She edits CafLit.
She has an MA in Writing for Children and PhD in Creative and Critical Writinghttp://www.gilljameswriter.eu/
Post a Comment