‘Look Through My Window’ – The Mamas & the Papas
The Secret Life of Ritcherd J Winterfood…
Basically, it involves that bugbear: UNREQUITED LOVE.
It’s late on this August evening and here I sit by the River Nene, in near darkness, just across from the house of BEATRICE MIRANDA WASP.
It hurts. A real lot.
Another day has passed with my torment intensified. I’ve thought so much of her lately it’s becoming unbearable. I have cried over her.
But for the lazily drifting river, all is stillness.
The smell of sandalwood and the sound of the pen upon the paper…
I feel rather conspicuous here. I shall move along. But I just had to sit here. I’m hoping she’ll notice me once again.
A dog barks. For me? Will I be approached as some unruly youth? A burglar? A peeping tom? That sort?
No! I’m merely a sentimental man, full of aspirations to inner tranquillity. I hope…
Yes, you’ve been down that road before, Ritcherd. It didn’t bring you home. All it did was drag you along and trample you underfoot. It locked you fast in tears. Tears for who? For that girl, that woman, that lost part of your life, your one true regret.
OH WHY DID YOU EVER DISCARD THE LOVE OF…
BEATRICE MIRAnDA WASp?
‘Words of Love’ – The Mamas & the Papas
It feels a little foolish to be here. But I had to come. It’ll perhaps help me.
It’s been going on for a while now. These thoughts of her, the most wonderful person in the world, they have returned. I tried to hold them back, as I often do, but the letters ‘BMW’ are tattooed upon my soul. I LOVE HER. I CAN NO LONGER DENY THIS LOVE, SPENDING TIME IN THE ARMS OF OTHERS, BETWEEN THEIR LEGS, UPON THEIR LIPS, WHEN THE ONLY WOMAN I HAVE EVER FELT LIKE THIS ABOUT REMAINS A MYSTERY TO ME. I HAVE ALWAYS LOVED HER, AND I CAN SEE NO END TO THIS.
I always love MIRANDA WASP.
All our evil catches up with us. Why did I mistreat her so? Why? Why?
A cat just slipped from the wall. I tried to communicate with it, verbally and telepathically, hoping it was Beatrice Miranda’s cat Ebenezer (is that right?). It didn’t seem interested in me once I paid it some attention. Until that moment it was entirely intrigued by me.
If I looked up, I’d see her bedroom window. But I don’t want to be arrested, so I’m not going to. I just wish she’d look down and find me. I wish she could sense my presence. I wish she would come out and talk. My psychic self is begging her to.
Oh god, I bet I look a right bloody potential criminal here.
I jumped then. The front door opened. Someone came out and got into a car.
I dare not look.
Was it the beautiful one?
‘Glad To Be Unhappy’ – The Mamas & the Papas
I love BMW. I need her. But she won’t even speak to me. It hurts. My lord god, it kills me inside. Could she ever understand the pain I feel inside? The yearning? What is she was to leave Cambridgeshire now? Forever. What would become of her? Or me? I’d never see that beautiful face again, never kiss those beautiful lips, speak with that most cultured of minds. She would be dead to me. And I would die, too. I cannot bear this life without the hope that one day we shall hug and embrace and speak of youth and beauty.
I need her so much. Even so, had I the power to make her leave Mark for me, I still wouldn’t. That would be callous. Then again, it would also be extremely impossible.
I miss you. I really do miss you. More than I could ever miss anyone. That’s what this love is. It is an absolute. It is a fire within me that can never be extinguished.
Oh how I have lost you. Do you care?
I will return on Wednesday evening, if not before.
I pray my dream comes true, very soon.
‘Little Wing’ – Jimi Hendrix
I find it impossible to end my vigil. But it is perhaps for the best that I go and go now.
The soft rustling and clicking of the leaves I can hear could never be that person for whom I have wished.
Only, the moment of pain is passing. My regret will be replaced with my newborn fear, this screaming in the stomach that says, ‘I LOVE YOU’, but then turns off softly down the RIVER, reflecting the dark, murky depths of Ritcherd J Winterfood’s mind.
Why could he no longer leave? Why did he tremble?
Would their worlds collide, or would life continue to be vague and pointless until he finally encountered the mercy of heaven?
The tale is of sadness
And days within a dream
My sorrow grows like a Spring
I will never know again
‘She’s run away from home. Have you seen her, Ritcherd?’ Mrs Wasp, 1985
‘I could paint a sorry tale on your heart for you…’
‘She’s got beautiful teeth’ Betty Baker, 1985
RITCHERD & MIRANDA
take me to a place
dreams are reality
and all reality is
[‘he never learns –
we’re at the same feelings once again…’
– love Ritcherd, May 1989]
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Next time: ‘The river…’