Eternally North (3 page)

Laughing, I jumped up
and snatched the feather Magic Duster and became the Brian May of our
budget Queen tribute band.

After the song was done
– a rendition that we were sure would place us as the winners of
Britain's Got Talent
– we sat down on the red love-seat,
grabbed our daiquiris and contemplated the events of the day.

With a sigh, Tink laid
his head on my shoulder and said, "Wilbur, you'll be just fine.
You're gorgeous, you're an amazing teacher and the best friend a gal
could ask for. I love you. You have always accepted me for me, and
you don't know how special that is – I’m not your average guy by
any stretch of the imagination, but you never judged me. See this as
an opportunity to find someone who can make you the happiest person
alive, be your everything. I mean – Nathan? Sorry to say, Wil, but
a beer-bellied, balding, albino-resembling furniture shop manager is
not really your Prince Charming. You deserve much more. Take the
sound advice given from
Rocky Horror’s
Frankenfurter: ‘Don’t
dream it, be it."

I wiped away a stray
tear from Tink´s face with my thumb and hugged him hard, kissing his
cheek. I looked down, shook my head and I let out one final sigh at
the day’s turn of events.

There were no words.

Tink patted my knee,
held my two hands in his, took a deep breath and squealed, "Now
let’s get trashed!"

Six daiquiris followed
by tequila chasers resulted in me and my favourite fairy being
absolutely blitzed. On the upside, I was feeling a whole lot better
about the cheating situation and, having kicked Tink’s arse twice
at Just Dance on the Nintendo Wii, I was feeling pretty darn
unstoppable.

As we crashed on the
couch, putting the world to rights, it came to me in a flash, an
epiphany! I froze, and Tink grabbed my hand in reaction to my sudden
stillness.

I dropped his hand,
shot up from the couch and turned to stand in front of him, a slow
smile forming on my face. He raised an eyebrow in question as I began
to pace back and forth in front of the log fire.

"Okay, we’ve
established that things in my life need to change, yes?”

Tink nodded in
confirmation, following my every move with his bright sapphire eyes.

I continued. "I
propose a new plan. I need to start a new chapter, develop a new
philosophy to adhere to, one that challenges me… liberates me."

Tink went to interrupt,
but I held up a hand to stop him, only spilling a little bit of my
drink in the process.

"I’ve got it! I
propose a period of time where the
only
rule is to seize the
day, to go with the flow or throw caution to the wind, as you put
it."

Tink’s face was
morphing into one of utter glee at my declaration.

"It can be a test,
no
, a social experiment of sorts. I will give myself a period
of time, a year or something, to change my modus operandi, the way
that I conduct my life, and assess at the end whether it has changed
it for the better. If it has, I stick to it, if not..." I
shrugged and looked to my bestie, who was practically vibrating in
excitement, waving his hand in the air waiting for me to give him
permission to speak. I gave him a regal nod to proceed.

"I say yes! And so
will you, it'll be like the film, the one with whasisname... Jim
Carrey. You have to say yes to everything and see if your life
improves. I love it!" he slurred.

I shook my finger. "I
won't commit to saying yes to everything, as I think that's just
stupid and could effectively land me in some sticky spots, but I will
commit to taking opportunities when they arise and not over-thinking
the rafima... marifa... ramifications and consequences of my actions.
If something feels good, I'll go with it." I nodded my head
once, affirming my intention.

Tink ran to the kitchen
and came back with two shots of God knows what – some orange
concoction – and we knocked them back, shuddering at the burn of it
running down our throats. We dived back on the sofa, and I actually
felt lighter, relieved... free. Tink couldn't keep the grin off his
face.

He sat forward. "So
what you going to do about Nathan the dick? You're probably going to
see him around. Newcastle's a small place."

I thought about Nathan
parading around with his new plastic-fantastic bimbo-on-the-side, and
I felt sick. Tink was right. Time to put my words into action.

With a deep breath, I
turned to my best friend and confided, "Tink, I’m serious when
I say this, regardless of the alcohol and the sudden overhaul in my
attitude and life philosophy – I need to get out of here. I’ve
actually thought about it for a while but never dared to take the
plunge," I delivered with conviction – well, conviction and a
bit of intoxicated slurring.

Tink rolled his head
and, with a smile offered, "Well let’s go, my peppered slab of
salami. Ibiza, Benidorm, Magaluf – wherever you want."

"Firstly, as if!
I'm thinking those places would be great for you, with your toned
physique and quest for quickies, but for a fuller-figured goddess
like myself, the thought alone is giving me palpitations. Can you
imagine the amount of neon Lycra I would have to purchase to survive
such a fortnight?
Ugh
, no thanks!" I chided, with a grim
look and a shiver to the spine.

"Shut your
cake-hole, Wilbur, it'll be fun. A two week vay-cay is just what the
doctor ordered," he insisted with a smug grin. "Plus you
need to get laid. Elephants like you need a sexual outlet now and
then, even if they don’t manoeuvre too well!" he said, nudging
me with his elbow and giving me a sly wink.

"Gee, thanks for
that! But no, I mean I need to get away – as in move away.
Newcastle is a fishbowl. It’s too small for me
and
Nathan
the prick. It didn't work for Nemo, and it’s sure not going to work
for me."

"You can't run
from your problems, Wil, they'll never go unless you face them
head-on."

He put a tapping finger
to his lips and continued. "I'm drawn to a quote by the queen of
the gays herself, Lady Gaga, who in her infinite wisdom once said
“... all that ever holds someone back, I think, is fear. For a
minute I had fear. Then I went into the dressing room and shot my
fear in the face.”
That's you too, Wil. You are fierce enough
to get through this," he mused without a hint of amusement, even
though he was throwing out Lady Gaga proverbs to relate to my life.
But hell, she is the new Gandhi!

"I'm not running;
if anything, I’m seizing the day. Life's too short. I need to make
a change, we’re in agreement on that. It'll be the first step in my
‘experiment'. I'm thinking big, Tink. I'm thinking international.
I'm thinking of a permanent move."

Silence descended on
the room while we both envisioned our lives apart, no longer joined
at the hip. A broken pair of Oink Fairies.

Tink shuffled to the
front of his seat, rubbed his face with his hands and shifted his
attention in my direction. "Well, Wil, Newcastle probably is too
small for us and our larger-than-life personalities anyway. The world
is ours for the taking. And of course, you know I’ll be the Dory to
your Nemo in your quest for happiness," he announced as he began
to line up a dangerous amount of the same orange poison-shots.

"
Wait
. Are
you saying what I think you're saying?" I asked with rising
excitement.

"What? You thought
you'd be doing this alone? Fuck that for a bag of chips! Where you
go, I go. We're the Oink Fairies, we fly and roll in mud together!"
he said, kissing my hand.

"I'm pretty
smashed right now and will probably not remember this in the morning,
but I have never been so excited in my life. I'm peeing myself with
anticipation!" I giggled as I tackled and practically strangled
my most favourite person in the world with a bear hug.

"Well grab those
incontinence knickers, my baby girl, because our lives are about to
change."

He handed me my shots and with a
'chin chin' and a '
salute
' we toasted to the ride that was
going to be our new life.

15 minutes later...

"Tink, I’m going
to be sick. I cannot take all this tequila!"

Let me just take this
opportunity to give an explanation for those who are unfamiliar with
Geordies.

We are born loud and
proud to be Northern. Being a Geordie is not simply a title due to
the region we were born in, it’s a culture. Our blood runs thick in
black and white.

The girls are brazen
and unafraid of most things – well, except the Achilles’ heel to
any Geordie lass... a fake tan shortage! We fight like blokes and
have skin like penguins. We feel no cold and will face minus
temperatures with so little on and skirts so short, that you can
practically see what we’ve had that morning for breakfast!

We are not measured by
our character and content of our hearts but by the shortness of our
hem-lines and the height of our hair. Oh, and we can drink anyone,
and I mean
anyone
, under the table!

Like any good Geordie,
the talent of binge-drinking is innate. There is something in the
Northern water that makes it possible for any one of us to consume
lethal amounts of liquor in the shortest amount of time possible and
still manage (granted, with a few intermittent cleansing
stomach-purges) to crack on through the night undeterred.

Despite that fantastic
description, most of us are classy, we just like to work hard and
play even harder.

Now where were we?

Stumbling around the
room with a more-than-fuzzy head, I tried to focus and fight back the
nausea.

"Do not DARE fail
on me now, sweet-cheeks. We have some decision-making to do,"
shouted Tink from across the room, while trying to decide what to
dance to next: Girls Aloud or some vintage Tiffany? Such a dilemma!

Inhaling deeply and
pulling myself together, I gave my body a sobering shake. "Okay,
okay, I’m good now.
Soooo
how we going to do this? How in
the hell do we choose where to go?" I uttered, as I tottered
back to my fairy and his mammoth iDock.

"Well, hell if I
know, my drunken little piglet. Let’s let the fates decide,"
he said with his palms pointed up at the mirror ball that hung from
the living room ceiling like it was an effigy of a pagan disco god.

"Fates? And just
how, Mystic Meg, will the fates decide? I'm sure the fates are much
too busy to deal with two drunken pissheads at midnight on a Friday."

"Fine, have you
got a better plan?" my fairy demanded with an acid tongue and an
arch of his perfectly plucked left HD brow.

"Well yeah, just
give me a minute," I said, holding up my hand for quiet. "...
Ah ha!" I yelled in triumph, and a light bulb appeared over my
head. "Pass the remote for the TV."

Tink did so with a
curious pout.

I looked him right in
the eye. "If it’s fate you want, then fate it will be. I will
turn on the TV, we will close our eyes and choose a channel at
random. In whichever country the show is set, then that, my
fairy-weathered friend, will be our new home."

I gave a sharp nod –
not a good move,
ugh
, alcohol.
No more vigorous head
movements!

My enchanted bestie
shimmied and clapped in agreement and switched on the 60-inch Smart
LCD. We held hands and closed our eyes. With a 'tap, tap, tap' of the
buttons our future was sealed.

"I'm so excited!"
squealed Tink.

"Okay, on the
count of three, open your eyes... One."

Deep breath.

"Two… Thr-"

"Erm... do you
hear bombs?"

"Shut up and quit
stalling."

Nearly there.

"Three."

"
OH, HELL NO!
"
was the instant response from my flamboyant partner in crime.

I opened my eyes and
took in the splendour of... Afghanistan???

"What the heck is
this show?" I said in a panic.

Tink snatched the
remote from my tight grip and brought up the title:
Ross Kemp in
Afghanistan.
Well, fate had truly turned us upside-down and
smacked us right on the arse!

"Wil, I love you
and everything, and you know I would do anything for you, but,
well... I’m just too goddamned pretty to pull off a burkha!"
he proclaimed with absolute sincerity whilst throwing himself onto
the vintage white shag pile rug.

I, on the other hand,
at this heartfelt plea, proceeded to break into hysterics at the
sheer horror on the face of my best friend.

The Tinkster lifted his
head with a scowl. “What are you laughing at? I'm serious. I’ll
wither and die in such a climate... and the sand. Lord, the sand!
I'll be shitting out castles for eternity! However, on the upside,
the exfoliation would do wonders for my complexion, and… Oh. My.
Gods of glitter! I’ll get to wear a headscarf and embody the iconic
Little Edie from
Grey Gardens
and be
‘fabulous,
mother-darling’
! Mmm… Afghanistan is starting to have
possibilities...” he pondered as he weighed up the pros and cons,
using his hands as scales.

Pulling myself
together, I turned to my bloody daft pal. "Okay, one last try
and this time whatever destination is on the screen, we
WILL
be going there, war zones excluded."

Taking each other’s
hands once again, we closed our eyes. I had to refrain from chuckling
at the idiot beside me who was chanting under his breath, "Hawaii,
Hawaii, Hawaii, oh, maybe Bali?"

With a calming exhale,
I tapped on the buttons once more. The thud of our hearts created a
staccato rhythm. When the sound came on and we opened our eyes it was
to the delightful sound of a Caribbean accent.

'Feel
the rhythm, feel the rhyme, get on up, it’s bobsleigh time!'