We Are Attempting to Survive Our Time by A.L. Kennedy

Author:A.L. Kennedy [Kennedy, A. L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781473569218
Publisher: Random House

It Might Be Easier to Fail

You don’t know when he’s home, so that’s a problem. He might have just popped out to make a speech, record a statement, remind himself he’s relevant. And trying an action when he isn’t there and couldn’t notice, well, what would be the point? I’ll only get one crack at him, most likely, and I wouldn’t want my effort gone to waste. There has been too much waste.

I know he’s not in charge any more, but guilty’s guilty. I did consider other targets. He’s the one, though. He’s stayed relevant for me.

You can’t do terrible things and not be punished. I’m saying that, writing that, thinking that, because saying and writing and thinking are always the start of a thing becoming true out in the world. You build the start of every alteration out of words. Whatever you do, good or bad, you’ll have thought it first, named it first.

And there are so many things you have no power to alter – that means you have to mend the things you can. It doesn’t make up for all of the things you can’t alter, but it helps. That’s why I’m making plans. I’m going to show him the truth he’s been avoiding. I will be an example.

I’ve checked out the lie of the land. They guard the house while he’s abroad, but not so much. When he’s living in town, two coppers stand out at the nearest corner of the square. They’re not just defence, they’re a grandiosity, his kind of luxury item. Sometimes there’s another couple in the alley behind the house and then there’s the obvious pair at the top of the steps, up at his front door leaning about. Whenever the great man’s overseas, a lad can be stuck on the door or at the corner by himself.

These would be the observations made to date. I was never military, but it’s only common sense. They’re saving money by dialling security down when he’s far away, but this makes it very obvious when he’s back, when he could be inside, when he could be on the point of walking out and down the steps, across the pavement.

I swing by at all hours, take in the scene, and then I get the next bus home. It’s a bit of a long trip to get there, out of my way, and I have to change buses twice, so the journey gives me space for contemplation. I’m glad of it. For a while I couldn’t think at all, not anywhere, couldn’t be at rest. I painted the flat, repainted, built a wall in the garden out the back, then tore it down. The neighbours were worried, but I was acting logically. I wanted to be worn out, so I could sleep.

I find it very peaceful on the bus – top deck and looking out if I can manage. The idea that I’m recovering and have purpose will make me smile as passengers come and go. Some of them smile back.

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