New Beginnings

What makes a new haircut so refreshing? Easter is the celebration of new life and I certainly feel my own rebirth occurring right now.

            I’ve just got back from spending the Easter weekend with my parents in Glastonbury. Early on Saturday morning, I took a walk into town to Back2Back, a wonderful hairdressers. I got pampered. I had my hair washed (double shampooing – result!), a head massage with the conditioner and then a slick of sweet smelling Moroccan hair oil. The hairdresser spent nearly an hour cutting away my split ends and blow drying it to perfection. All of this indulgent treatment for only £15, how could I not be smiling?

            I bounced out of the hairdressers and continued walking down Glastonbury High Street with a spring in my step. My hair hadn’t radically changed, but just the process of shedding the old to unleash the new felt so invigorating.

            I’m in the midst of a life upheaval, it’s almost like another New Year. I’m bracing myself for summer and what I’m going to do with all the delicious free time I’ll soon acquire. I can return to being dedicated to my workout schedule. Life interrupted with assignments, and an unfortunate slip down the stairs halted all physical activity for a week. But I am emerging, clothed in my new workout gear, courtesy of a Sports Direct sale (sports bra and three-quarter length leggings for just under £10 – happy shopper!). Time is the most luxurious thing one can own.

            The blessing of time has also given me the opportunity to work on my writing. I have decided to pursue the story I showcased last week. Hopefully, I will see it through to a five book series. Having long periods of time to sit at the table and bath in the writing is so good for me. I can wander into new worlds without being dragged back by lessons or deadlines. Speaking of deadlines, I heavily altered the beginning of the story before handing it in to be assessed. I do hope you like it. Like my friend Adam, I too feel on the cusp of an adventure.

 

Adam was supposed to be at football club. Aunty Elaine was very keen on sports, exercise and nutrition. It was just a shame she wasn’t that keen on Adam.

            He shuffled along the road, kicking his PE bag as he went. The club wasn’t meant to finish for another half an hour, so he had some space before facing his fearsome aunt. “Why can you never be on time, Adam?” Aunty Elaine would shriek, even when she was caught up in an awkward yoga position. Adam still couldn’t work out how someone could still be scary with both legs over their head. As he dawdled along, he tapped each beech tree in turn, a ritual he performed when he walked home from school. He had plenty of time to think up a decent excuse to avoid another one of Aunty Elaine’s rants, he thought as he kicked out at a pebble.

            The stone spun off Adam’s boot and hit the cast iron gates with a loud twang. They towered above him. The charcoal metal had been twisted to form a pair that was bound together by a hefty padlock. Adam looked past the intimidating gates and gawked at what they were guarding.

            The house stood alone. It had to have been at least three stories high, but was the type of mansion that could be hiding an attic and cellar too. It looked similar to a house on a television show Aunty Elaine liked to watch with his cousin Amy after their Sunday roast. Adam had never found the programme very interesting, but the spiralling turret on this house caught his eye. So did the glittering, bejewelled Indian domes that stuck out on one corner of the house. The house front was decorated with a mish mash of exposed brick and cream stone. There were large stable right next to the mansion and he could hear horses whinnying. He pushed on the gates in an attempt to see more of the unusual house. The gates swung open freely. The padlock had vanished.

            Adam hurriedly looked all around him in search of the missing padlock, nut it was nowhere to be seen. He looked beyond the gates, expecting to see someone with a key but there was nobody near him. Adam froze, looking up at the building, wondering if he could risk a closer look. Just to pet the horse and have a quick look round. Although Adam walked down Greymear Street every day on his way home from school, he had never seen a house on this spot. There were normally piles of rubble and under construction signs, but Adam did vaguely remember a structure under a nest of scaffolding at the start of the week. He found it difficult to clearly think back, Monday was so long ago.

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