Saturday, 29 June 2013

Down the lanes with our friends

Bertie looked forlornly at his friend and said, “I am sorry, old bean; I didn't realise you were struggling so much. Do you think the writing will pay?”
Algie rose from the stile he had been using for a seat and replied, “Not for a good while, there is talk of a writer who wrote articles for a newspaper until his work became more popular, I don't wish to take up work like that, but I may need to, ‘Needs must as the devil drives,’ Bertie.”
The pair walked along the path, listening to the bird calls and viewing the trees for signs of nests; Rooks and Crows flocked about as the farmers tilled their fields, turning up fresh worms and insects for the young birds. The afternoon air filled with the freshness of nature, the men were able to detect the odours of fresh manure on the air, too many this was distasteful but Algie enjoyed the smell as he would be a country man in heart and soul wherever life took him.
 “Do you recall our first meeting, Algie?” Bertie asked his friend.
 “How could I forget the day, Bertie. You were struggling too get to grips with the English lessons and I was your guide, since then we have had a good partnership; you with your charm and connections and me with the talent for story writing and it’s that urge which drives me and why I struggle to be recognised as the good writer, I know I can be; given the chance.”
 “Yes, we hit it off from the start didn't we, old man, which is why I hate seeing your talent go to waste like this.”
            “I cannot thank you too much for your support and kindness, Bertie, without your support I doubt I would have the courage to get this far. The career is a risk and in no way do I blame you for pushing my hopes on, writing had been my dream and I took the decision to chase my hopes.”
 “Please try not to get too down-hearted, Algie, I get upset seeing you down-at-heel and lonely.”
The two friends walked out of the lane and took the path leading into the city; Bertie wondering how Algie would cope if the writing failed as the writing had been his life's dream and he had the talent, all he needed was a break. Algie, meantime became engrossed with the idea of his next story, forever on the thinking plain, Algie’s mind rarely had a moment's peace.
While many of his colleagues wrote romances and experimented with new styles of travel stories, Algie’s mind wandered far away in the spirit world and off on journeys into the deep recesses of the soul of man and his inner thoughts, this became quite a journey to undertake; on the one hand you experimented with things unknown and far away and on the other you travelled to the inner most sanctum of man’s essential persona. He tried romance, but as yet he had little success there, “best left to the ladies,” he thought.
Bertie noticed Algie was not paying any attention and commented, “I see your mind s active, Algie, what are you thinking of now?”
Algie was a little shaken and replied, “I’m sorry, my old friend, I was considering the possibility of a story.”
The prospect of a new story always interested Berite, enthusiastically he asked, “What type and subject?”

Algie scratched his head a little and replied, “There is a rumour that some explorer chap called Percy Fawcett is going down the Amazon; I think I may be able to use his storyin one of my new adventures.”

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