Joseph J. Peters was born to John and Maggie Peters on a cold night in November, in a small hospital on the outskirts of London. He was his parents first child, and with him, the stresses of a first child lent themselves known to his parents. His mother, as one would expect, bore the brunt of the shock, although he was planned, the difficulties of growing a human in one''s stomach can’t not be understated. Maggie was content however when she held her firstborn in her hand, tired, but content. John on the other hand was a nervous wreck. Sleep had evaded him like flame avoids water and it showed. More bags under his eyes than a nan''s backdoor and a once white shirt, brown with the leavings of cheap hospital coffee. Still, he was happy when he saw his son. Despite the white hairs.
After the birth, they returned to their dilapidated flat in Woolich, East London, south of the mighty river Thames. Maggie had maternity leave to look forward to, yet Joseph had to return to his part time job at the local university, indulging the burgeoning youth in their passions for geology. At least that’s how John described it, the said named passionate students may have argued on the passion bit. To John however, it was a passion. He, unlike many, would have chosen to stay staring at the rock in Plato’s cave. Give him a strata, and he was like a fly to a turd, it’s remarkable he even managed to have a social life and even a wife!
The couple had met at a house gathering held by one of John’s flatmates. Maggie had turned up in the hands of another, turning heads left and right. John had been forced to attend because, well, it was his flat. It wasn’t that John didn’t like a knees up, it was more he had the hopes of his family on his shoulders, the only member of his mining village in the north to come to London and take lectures. Lots of rocks in the mines his Dad used to say, some we want some we don’t, but they all tell a story.
Needless to say, as in the want of Love, John and Maggie met and fell in Love. His passionate determination and her debonair charm worked well and hence, Joseph.
Joseph’s first 3 years were as eventful as one might expect for a baby, yet for the advent of a baby brother, Darius. Darius was everything one would hope for in a baby, bubbly, rambunctious and the apple of anyone’s eye. Joseph was the same, and he knew, despite his young age, he now became a paladin to his brother.
Many more years elapsed and his family grew older, wiser and perhaps maturer. Joseph was now 16 and had entered his first year of sixth form. His school was the local grammar school, Woolwich Grammar School for Boys and girls were now allowed to join for the last two years of secondary education. Just awful news for the male population.
Joseph by now had somewhat found his path with a keen inkling for science, namely chemistry. The mixing of compounds and solutions, the paraphernalia of beakers and bunsen burners, the scents of concoctions and reacting elements, was a playground for his mind. It was one of those dreary Monday mornings at the start of term that Joe sat ready and awake for his first lesson in A level Chemistry, held by the much renowned eccentric that was Mr. Watson. The boys knew well of Mr. Watson and his propensity for his experiments to combust erratically usually with Mr Watson''s glasses flying across the room. It was clear that Mr. Watson loved his job, and also took great pleasure in entertaining each cohort with his legend. The newly integrated girls however, who usually came from the adjacent ‘prim and proper’ Woolwich girls school were caught unawares.
Joe’s desk partner was one of such ilk and when an introductory explosion took place at the front of the laboratory a look of concern took to her charming features. Joe, the veteran that he was, consoled the young lass, and mentioned that all of this was totally ordinary and of no cause for concern in a very gentlemanly and wise manner. Julia, for that was her name, took heed and that faint look of concern was promptly dispelled from her marred features to reveal an enchanting smile. Joe was stunned, his wise air dropped and replaced with a gawking awkwardness. ‘Gods! What beauty!’
Julia was less inclined towards Joe now that his chin had dropped to the desk and turned back to Mr. Watson who was outlining the terms outline, dismissing Joe instantly. It was at this time that Joe suddenly became religious and knew he had to become a righteous crusader. ‘Gods’ he thought furiously, ‘if I don’t make this girl mine, I''ll join a monastery’.
After that historic first lesson, Joe made every attempt to gain some favour from the young miss Salaya, who’s rebuttals ranged from anything from an upraised eyebrow or to the most embarrassing of cases, asking publicly to change lab partners. Thankfully, despite the shame dealt to Joe, Mr. Watson denied the supplication, with the reason that the two best budding chemists should be sat together. Little did Mr. Watson know what he had set in motion with his decision, or maybe he did and his genius was truly frightening.
Needless to say, due to their continued contact and their very obvious shared love of chemistry the two became closer, with Julia slowly lowering her walls and Joe losing his zealotry for her beauty and gaining a healthy respect for her scientific mind. He found to his dismay that she surpassed his chemical learnings, and soon took the wunderkids'' limelight. Still, not all was lost as their cooperation led to greater shared insights than if he had been apart for this sure genius.
With this in mind, Joe’s focus on his other two A levels became stronger, one being philosophy, held by the illustrious headmaster himself, and the other Physics. Physics was by no means one of Joe’s strengths, in fact he was positively dull when it came to mathematics. Still, it was the challenge that drove him on, not to mention his love of the adventure of the frontier. And space is the greatest frontier to man or even possibly to organic life itself. If physics is his weakness, then philosophy is his strength. Not the ability to regurgitate names, dates and figures, but rather to broaden the depth of an argument or pinpoint the right question to ask. What is philosophy but the ability to think and digest; to expound and extrapolate; to mutter incoherently over a pint to your mates late at night. Voltaire said a man only philosophises when his belly is full, but Joe would add and his pint glass topped up to the brim!
A full term went by and soon canned music extolling jubilation was blaring from the local shops and radios shows. For London, the forecast remained very much the same, wet and dreary. Regardless, the students of Woolwich Grammar School for Boys or WGSB as was printed on the rugby jerseys, were getting in the mood. School was over, the holidays were approaching, and that meant liberal libations from their respective families which they usually have to pinch on the sly. It was the last class of Mr. Watson’s for the year and the atmosphere was light. Exams were seemingly a millenia away and the students'' minds were preoccupied with whose party they would be attending or which pub they could fraud their way into. This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.
Julia and Joe were likewise discussing their holiday plans and Joe indicated to Julia that he would be going to his mate Bob’s parents later for a party. Bob’s parents were away and he had invited his band mates, Joe included being the guitarist for their fledgling band, the Rice Crispies. Joe wasn’t sure of the name but Bob insisted stating that they had a crisp original sound. Joe still remained unconvinced without even considering the possible copyright infringements, yet he remained mute to Bob assertiveness. Joe had explained this to Julia, and had proudly noticed his well mastered segue to ask her whether she would like to come down to the local Dragon’s Roar prior. Julia looked at Joe with the customary raised eyebrow, yet seeing how earnest he was being, and that she was planning on going there anyway, she graciously accepted. Little did she know what she had just done to poor Joe’s heart. He suddenly felt hot and cold simultaneously, and couldn’t figure out whether he wanted to scream joyously and declare his undying love to Julia immediately or run back to his house and hide in the bathroom. He did neither and just remained staring at Julia gormlessly. As Chemistry was not the last lesson of the day for them, they decided to meet at the Pub at five and then go with the flow from there.
Joe dashed home on his once stolen bicycle, sweeping past his mum in the kitchen, who frowned at the lack of greeting. He then proceeded to shower and clean himself until his skin was red raw. ‘Things must go right today! He announced to himself in the mirror, ‘she is the only thing that matters in this bleak world! Oh I, the poor Romeo of the modern age must not befall the tragedy of young love’. Such mutterings were born witness by Darius who had just got back from school himself. As younger brothers tend to do, he repeated Joe’s mutterings loudly throughout the flat with much mirth. Maggie repeated the words ''tragedy of youth’ as she continued with washing the dishes.
Finally the preordained time came and Joe met his mates at the Pub, Bob included. Bob insisted that he got the first round, first because he looked about 25 with his great black beard and secondly he was feeling on top of the world with his upcoming inaugural houseparty. Hosting house parties, as any young student will know, is the apex of student societies and will do wonders with one''s luck with the birds. By twenty four minutes past Joe was starting to become considerably more antsy. His mates had astutely noticed the usually slovenly looking Joe was now in his best rugby shirt, one he didn’t even wear for the world cup, and had even found time to apply aftershave, one given by his nan the last christmas and never opened prior. They, not being thick, realised a game was afoot, casting knowing looks between themselves. By five thirty, the door of the Dragon’s Breath once again opened, exposing those within to the cold outside air. She had arrived.
There are times when we think we are dreaming, yet we are living, and there are times when we dream when we think we are living. The former was very much so for Joe that fateful day at the end of term. The atmosphere of Christmas at his local Pub, the companionship of his bosom friends, even the tinny christmas tunes played into the dreamscape that was his romanticism. To Joe, Julia was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen as she crossed the threshold into the Pub. Green leggings that looked like dragonscale itself rose from her delicate ankles, An arse you could bounce a penny off and then her shapely upper figure, one that would make mere muses of legend grovel in shame. Her hair, which was usually tied in a bun, was finally given freedom to roam across her shoulders which along with a green scarf, framed her oval, slightly ethnically tanned face. It was not an exaggeration to say that many eyes turned to the door to witness her entrance.
Seemingly ignorant of the effect she had on the atmosphere of the pub, she shrugged off her scarf, saying something to her friend at her side. From then she looked across the bar, searching, and then with a smile, finding. Joe suddenly felt uncomfortable with her gaze, but also proud. Was he the cause of such a beauty to appear in this dimension? Was it for him that she was here? And other such narcissistic thoughts.
“Drink?” he asked her as she finally made her way over. “ Yeah, pint of whatever you’re having please Joe”. She looked from Joe to Bob, inclining her head slightly. “You’re having a houseparty later I hear, mind if me and my friend tag along? The party we were heading to got cancelled as Tom’s parent’s came back early”.
Bob in his usual charismatic manner replied to the affirmative and drinks were finally ordered. Julia introduced her friend officially to the gang, some who already met and the buzz of the pub took over. Finally, Bob announced that the posse would be heading back to his in Canning town on the DLR (Docklands light railway) and so they all traipsed off, much livelier for a few drinks.
Now a houseparty, is anything and everything you might hope it would be, for those committing debauchery at the tender age of 16 or 17. The pagans had their coming of age ceremonies, some thankfully left to history along with their druids, the Jews have bar mitzvahs and the average adolescent have house parties. Ripe with drugs, alcohol and sex. At least that was the hope of these boys becoming men and girls becoming women. Most of the time, it was crying into your mates shoulder after yet another rejection in the wee hours of the morning, and then salving said wound with some neo philosophy. For Joe, this night was different, he was in love. Somehow, someway, something so stupefying had happened. He had kissed Julia! Out on the garden swing seat they had sat in the cold, cupping some stolen whiskey from Bob’s dad''s drinks cabinet. They had chatted about school, about music, about nothing and then it happened. A sloppy inexperienced kiss, but a kiss all the same. It had lasted forever, an entwining of souls, so Joe would like to have thought, simultaneously an entwining of tongues. And then suddenly it was over, all too soon. They continued to sit in companionable silence, hands held as they watched the sky over the hedges, the stars blinking in and out. THen her phone rang, it was her dad and he was here to pick her up. And then she was gone. They had kissed, he had even got to touch her breast through her shirt, and now she was gone. The place suddenly felt so empty, the party was now so dull, when it was so vibrant. Joe took another beer from the fridge and went to wear his bandmates jamming with a spliff being passed between them. They eyed him, but didn’t ask him a single question, simply handing him the joint as he sat down.
He felt depressed yet elated all the same. He had succeeded, he had kissed a goddess but now he felt like a mere mortal, grasping at divinity. He wanted more… More what though, more time. He sat in silence contemplating this emotion that adults know so well, the passing of time. He hated that feeling. Yet he knew, rationally, one can only have the ups if you have downs. For there to be existence, there must be absence, and for there to be a future, inevitably there must be a past. As the weed took hold, he mused on the idea that if we didn’t recognise time as the movement of one particle to another and that movement being consciously remembered, would we even have time? Is it just vectors, forever changing, with only conscious minds to remember where the vectors once were? He felt a shiver creep up his neck, too deep, too late and damn, should i text her?!