flicks wedding dayMature

24 FLICK ‘s wedding

 

Under the orange trees in the roman forum they said I do, both looking the part.

Augo is beaming. He has on black tie, strange for a wedding but what she wanted, Flick’s hair is up , and the sexy hairdresser turned out to be gay after all but made himself available to do everyone’s hair. She wanted bridesmaids but had lost touch with so many of the potential ones since falling in love. Who cared, it was better than trawling dodgy clubs and better than living with someone like her ex. She thought about Lucy now and then but it all seemed a bit unreal, as if someone had made that all up. Flick’s dress was silk, raw cream silk. They knew that the orange groves would be laden with oranges a that time and so she accessorized her dress with orange flowers which are white. Orange Blossom smells like heaven.

The old priest who conducted the service was a little surprised that they asked for that venue

 

‘Why don’t you stay with me on my boat off the coast of Sicily next time you visit.

 

All of Augustine’s family trekked along even his Nonie and they were silently relieved that he would be leaving home.

 

Augo had become a real man, in some peoples eyes. He walked more confidently with her beside him. He didn’t take any shit in the restaurant or at the bar even from the snotty concierge.

 

Felicity had not thought happiness like this existed, it was so comforting having someone to Just hang out with and go shopping with, whenever she liked.

As her and Augo set off on THEIR HONEYMOON , discussing adoption,

She wrote in her diary about a festival she went too not that long ago

It’s so sunny today. Even when it’s sunny Scotland is a bit cold really. I can’t really see how this is warm. I’m at a festival and I can Just about feel myself getting a bit pissed off with the whole idea. There really is a portaloo stress disorder. There really are gangs of lads who on the last night like to bounce footballs off your tent when you might be trying to get some beauty sleep. For a shy and retiring type it might be a bit much. That was what I thought at first. I could only see the veneer. But underneath is the best idea ever. Putting so many people together in a giant airfield with the smoothest artists. That was a good idea, throw in some drink too.

 

Jay Z was glittering. Paolo Nuttini heartbreakingly laconic. I need to tell you about the time that I realized I was really alive. I was Jumping up and down. Obligatory paint on one side of my face. The music was surrounding us and we Just starting running about, talking to so many people, men and women people with flags. I grabbed a flag and kept dancing. I’m not the most elegant of people but I felt quite awake like I’d woken up from being dead.

 

Other times I’ve woken up from being dead were, the time that I went away on a school trip to France, away from my first boyfriend if you could call him that. He used to use me a lot. He’d tell everyone everything we did down to the minutest detail. I was only seventeen but he was twenty one, at the time I Just adored him blindly, so it didn’t seem too bad. But really when I decide to go on the school trip to France I knew when I saw that country and the sunshine that he could not keep me down. He used to do things like drive us places, me and my best friend and then dump us at the side of the road saying he had to go. This all sounds ridiculous now, but it is true.

 

Another time, is when she died. I knew that life was so frail even I felt sturdy and that somehow I had to live. What I mean is that this is it really is. I wish it wasn’t it.

 

Often I’ve wished that. Wished not to have been born. But I was and here goes nothing.

 

The other time I remember realising I was really alive I was running down a street in Paris at about five am with the man I loved, or who loved me then at least. I was wearing bright pink trainers, cream flares and a crop top made out of pink vinyl. We’d been to the folie pigalle club and we were so happy. He was chasing me to catch me and carry me half the way home, but I was Just a bit faster than him.

 

The thing that makes you feel alive is feeling free. Free probably means that you have nothing to prove to the people around you. Not facing a losing battle about airs and graces for example or trying to be cooler than you really are.

 

School was a wash out, apart from when I discovered snogging but as you can see the boyfriends were not up to much.

Does everyone else feel like this? Or does everyone feel the other way around, always alive and then infrequently dulled.

 

This is me, I’m usually numbed or at least bored. They used to say I was clever at school. I did get all As for everything. Went to medical school for a bit, but my family are a bit strict and I ended up having to go home every weekend. Eventually it got to be a bit much, the driving that is and I well Just sort of gave in to their ideas.

 

They somehow prefer it if I do exactly as they think. Alhtough let me tell you, I know that nine times out of ten they were wrong. That’s one regret that I have, if I had always followed my plan of living for now and remembering I was alive for possibly not that long, comparatively speaking, then things would be different maybe.

 

What was the best moment of my life?

 

Let me think, well. They would probably be the years spent going out. Getting dressed up and going to clubs like Folie Pigalle, even though its not really all that. The building is like a big old theatre inside and it really is folie or mad. Ibiza was nice as well. The good times were earlier though. I think it’s the people that really make a night good isn’t it and I had his undivided attention back then. He really loved me. More than he’d ever go on to love anyone else, certainly after I’d broken his heart.

 

So yes thanks for asking me, those were the bits I remember that were good. But don’t ask me to pretend objectively that they were exciting or fulfilling. Look at me. Is that all I can really say? A few nights out a few snogs hear and there. God help me.

God is helping me, he watched over me, created a force field so that each time another bad thing happened and they did someone protected me. I didn’t have a person who could do that, not later on. How many do have that. Once he had gone it was so lonely. I had lost any looks that I had, but was hoping he would still love me. He waned a trophy to maximize his charm in the world perhaps. He would say to me, ‘ Flick, don’t wear that, not with those arms, not at the moment.’

He had changed. The deal was that I was different from the others, he really did love me. Maybe that’s what everyone says.

 

 

in my sleeping bag, i can hear giggling and although i’m awake i pretend to be asleep just a bit longer so i can listen to my friends really laughing. they work so hard, its really good to know they’re just happy, living on crisps and warm cider. we’re hoping that the rain holds off so we can put on our sparkly dresses with our wellies. i don’t care what i look like now, I know there isn’t a great deal of time left. Just will try to prove my theory correct. Viva Party you can’t go wrong, even for an old timer.

 

Flick went into hairdressing, she built up a successful hair extension salon.

She had reliable talented staff and two toy dogs that would come in and make all the customers feel at home. One shnauser called Missy, black with a white bib and one poodle called Louis, who had several outfits. The salon had to move once. One of the girls slept with another girl’s husband. The husband and wife had a fifteen year old son. She was found in her car, she’d used a hose pipe to kill herself. Flick didn’t want to be there anymore. So they moved. The bliss of being self employed, freedom to move, power to chose. The downside is the precariousness. Will they still come through the doors? Will the trichologists warnings be listened to, he has probably got it wrong anyway. Even dying causes damage.

Flick is sometimes known as cat woman, she loves wearing a cat suit. She can talk to any one in her cat suit, from Judges to music producers.

 

Flick decides to leave her hairdressers and waiters behind and focuses on her ambitions to write for Elle Magazine, but she wasn’t really up to speed with the nine till nine world of a major glossy so she is back at the salon. At the moment she can be found in Via del Corso on her moped most days, she is working on her Italian. She is so pleased that she was an alibi witness for that nice Lucy Mathews form the gym, what a great one to tell the grandkids. 

The End

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