My Book

By Tomas Cody

A collection of vignettes that hopefully describe how I came to be who I am.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tomas Cody
• Release date: Mar 31, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476421117

Tomas Cody

Tomas Cody grew up in Stoke-on-Trent and spent his formative years trying to escape school life in the pubs and clubs of the city. Surprisingly he managed to get enough of an education to land at Leicester University where he continued try to escape education and mostly he succeeded. Now living in New Zealand Tomas has continued to try to dodge bettering himself and instead works a nine to five to pay the bills.

Book preview

What Do We See?

I sometimes wonder in my more paranoid moments what people see when they look at me? Every now and again when I look in the mirror I play a game with myself even though I don’t know I’m doing it. The podgy, middle aged, balding man is there somewhere looking out at me but all my mind picks up is a picture of the boy I was when I knew Caroline, Betty Blue and the Satellite Kid. So what do we see when we look at each other? Is it the memory of what our partner used to be or do we notice the laughter lines around their eyes and the salt and pepper in their hair? And as for strangers we walk past in the street, we might pretend to be high and mighty and say we never judge but I’ll take the higher ground and say we never stop.

Take three people walking down the street, a young white boy replete with baseball cap, a middle aged woman looking stressed in her pin stripe business suit and a twenty something Muslim man on the way back from the mosque. Each of these people have their MP3’s plugged into their heads and if I was to say one was listening to 2Pac, one to Borodin and another to Green Day no doubt you’ll think you know who is listening to what. But how do we know our assumptions are correct? We don’t! We’ll simply put those three into the boxes where we think they belong and not give it a second thought.

We spend our lives categorizing, I suppose to make our lives easier but each of us has a story that makes us unique, a collection of memories that have shaped who we are. You might not care about the story that the old woman across the street could tell you about her life, have no inclination to share my memories but just remember that each and every one of us has a story so don’t judge the person sitting next to you on the bus just on what you think you can see.

01 – Janie

Sometimes when I’m alone late at night, when even the stars are feeling tired, I lie awake and think about old girlfriends and wonder what it would be like to see them one more time. Yet no matter where my imagination takes me I never thought that the next time I would see Janie would be sitting behind a Plexiglas screen, detained at Her Majesties Pleasure, as she awaited sentencing for the murder of her father.

She was the not the first girl that I kissed, that dubious honor belongs to Nicola Broughton many years ago behind the kitchens of The Close. But Janie was a first, my first real girlfriend. You know the one, the boy or girl whose memory will always bring a smile to your lips whenever you hear their name. I used to wonder what it would have been like if we’d stayed together, like Wayne and Colleen, but I would never have been paid enough for her to overlook my deficiencies and besides her father would have made sure we never made it. No matter what I did or what I had the potential to achieve in my life I would never have been good enough for his daughter, at least in his eyes, to him I was a unwelcome distraction for Janie and nothing more. You see Janie’s dad wanted for her something that he was never able to have himself, to be famous and who was I to get in the way of his dreams?

You see Janie could sing, she had the voice of an angel and when her dad realized how good she really was he started entering her into local singing competitions until finally, when she was thirteen years old, her dad got what he had always wanted for his daughter. Janie was enrolled into stage school! And that was the end of Janie and me. She never had the courage to tell me herself, all I got was a phone call from her dad which broke my heart. I suppose that was another way in which Janie was my first. He told me Janie had found somebody else, a fellow thespian, someone more like her from her all singing and all fucking dancing stage school.

Tom! What are you doing here? Hearing that voice after so many years shook me from my reverie and inside something skipped as I realized that even after twenty years Janie still recognized me. How did you know I was in here?

Even after all those years Janie’s naivety still brought a smile to my face. You shot your dad on national television. Me and ten million others know you’re in here.

Oh! The sad smile of realization which crossed her face tore at my heart as I watched her fight with her inner demons. I guess Saturday night television isn’t the best time for a family argument.

Not really, I replied why did you do it? What happened?

Over the days since I had watched, along with so millions of others, Janie shoot her father live on national television, I had thought of nothing else but why Janie would have done what she did and the shrug of her shoulders instantly confirmed my beliefs. He wouldn’t listen to me. Dad never did. I never wanted to be famous, I never wanted to enter that stupid competition. It was Dad that wanted it. Not me.

"I know,’ placing my hand on the plastic screen between us I tried to let Janie know I understood.

Then I met Alex, you would have liked him he’s a bit like you, Janie laughed and for a second I was transported back to those moments we had once shared so long ago. Dad didn’t like him either, that’s something else you and Alex have in common, so he told Alex that I didn’t love him that I’d found somebody else and it was all over between us. I guess Dad reckoned it worked on you so why wouldn’t it work on Alex. But Alex never gave up on me. He came round our house to win me back and that’s when I finally realized, Dad was never going to let me live the life that I wanted. He’d never let me be happy just in case it got in the way of his dream and so I shot him. The irony is that in death he finally got what he always wanted, he’s famous now!

My hand, which had been pressed against the plastic wall between us, hit the table as the realization of what Janie was telling me sunk in. We might have had a future together, my Janie and me, but unlike this Alex I had given up on her. Would we have all ended up differently if I had been as strong? I don’t remember much more of my visit, I think we talked about old times, old friends, whatever. All I could think about as we talked was what might have been.

Walking out of the prison gates I was lost in my own melancholy when he tapped me on the shoulder. Turning I found myself face to face with a smile, you know the one, just think of a used car salesman. Tom isn’t it? The smile asked. I saw you talking to Miss Wright and one of our mutual acquaintances told me all about you and Miss Wright’s history. You used to be lovers didn’t you? Her first love I believe."

I’m sorry who the fuck are you?

My mistake I should have introduced myself. I’m Max, Janie’s publicist. We should talk I could make you a lot of money.

You never know one day I’ll be as famous as Janie. The man who punched the publicist!

02 – Caroline

And do you know the craziest thing? When I told her we were through she started crying! Can you believe that?

You had just dumped her!

I know but she was the one cheating on me, fuelled by indignation Ian rummaged through the box of twelve inches, on the table in front of them, trying desperately to find something to take his mind of his slut of an ex-girlfriend and then at the back of the last box he found it. Look I got it! he shouted across the market stall to Tomas as he cradled lovingly the latest Dogs record.

Yeah, cool!

Hearing the lack of any kind of enthusiasm in his best friend’s voice, even when they had just found the record they’d spent the best part of a week scouring the markets of Stoke-on-Trent for, Ian looked over at Tomas and seeing his friend’s attention was elsewhere he felt hurt that Tomas hadn’t been listening to his tales of Emma’s infidelities. What you looking at? He asked as he searched Stoke market for who or whatever had caught Tomas’ attention.

Nothing, Tomas replied sheepishly, realizing his lack of interest in Ian’s love life had finally been rumbled. Belatedly he looked at the twelve inch nestled protectively in his friend’s arms and crossing his fingers that if he showed enough interest Ian wouldn’t ask any further questions. But the wicked smile on his best friend’s face told him that Ian had spotted the red headed girl on the opposite side of the market.

With a grin like Jack Nicholson’s Joker, Ian appraised the red head before turning back to Tomas and smiling, not the red head by the oatcake stall then? You should go and speak to her if you’re interested. Don’t let what Emma did to me put you off.

Something about the twinkle in his friend’s eye, which had been missing ever since he had discovered his girlfriend was sleeping around, told Tomas that Ian was acquainted with the girl from the oatcake stall. What’ are you smiling for? What’s wrong with her? But Ian simply shrugged his shoulders and Tomas, knowing he would get no more, decided to play the game anyway. Walking across the market he played out a dozen scenarios, in his mind, each designed to make the object of his fascination want to get to know him better but as he reached the stall all he could think of saying was I saw you from over there and I just had to come and talk to you. Even as the words left his mouth, Tomas winced.

Hoping he might have a chance to sneak away before the red headed girl had a chance to discover the idiot who had delivered such a lame chat up line, Tomas was about to turn and flee when she turned and smiled. Hi what are you after oatcakes or pikelets?

Err was all Tomas could manage as he tried desperately not to look at the hearing aid in the girl’s ear.

Five minutes, a dozen oatcakes and half a dozen pikelets, later Tomas marched up to his best friend who by now was doubled up in laughter by the side of the record stall. You bastard you knew all along! When no denial was forthcoming Tomas turned and stormed out of the market disgusted with what passed as his friend’s sense of humor.

The next twenty four hours for Tomas were packed full of surprises, the first was discovering he couldn’t get the red headed girl out of his head, and to his amazement the following morning found him standing once more at her stall determined, this time, to walk away with something more than oatcakes. And then when he had plucked up the courage to ask if she wanted to go with him to the pictures that evening, the second surprise was that like the man from Del Monte, she had said yes.

That evening, waiting outside the Cannon for Caroline, his oatcake girl, Tomas felt more nervous than he usually did on a first date but his nerves soon floated away like butterflies when Caroline turned the corner and he found himself face to face with the red headed girl from the market. Do you want to go and see . . . he began before looking in horror at the hearing aid in Caroline’s ear.

I can lip read you know, Caroline told him as if she could read his thoughts. Most of the time I can even make out what the actors are saying but cartoons can be a bitch, she added, a smile playing on her lips.

Shit and I was going to suggest My Little Pony, I’ve been looking forward to seeing that for weeks.

In the end they decided against the cinema and a few hours later, they found themselves nestled in a corner of Chico’s where Tomas couldn’t help but apologize for the relentless dirge of Acid House.

You don’t have to be sorry, Caroline assured him for what seemed to be the thousandth time. My little sister always says the music in here is crap so you see being deaf does have its advantages.

In the background some unknown singer cried out how low can you go? And as they kissed Tomas’ mind went back to that first chat up line and he had to agree, sometimes being deaf had more advantages than maybe even Caroline knew.

03 – Oatcake Banquet

(A North Staffordshire banquet fit to grace the tables of pot bank workers and kings alike.)

Ingredients:

4 Oatcakes per person

Grated Cheese

Bacon (optional)

Tossed salad (if entertaining – see below)

Jam

Ice Cream (if entertaining – see below)

Method:

If non vegetarian fry bacon in a pan until crispy. Put oven on a high(ish) heat.

Sprinkle a line of cheese down the centre of the first oatcake and if using top with shredded