FebulousFebruary 2026: The Old Photograph

Trip of a lifetime – part four

 Lel Meleyal

The pain was savage. A simultaneous combination of scalding heat and razor cut cold tearing at his skin. His breath came in agonising choked gasps. The icy water into which they each had fallen, immediately drained him of energy and his hiker clothing and boots, so practical for land, became leaden weight in the freezing water.

Bellowing in pain and fear, coughing out iced water in retching sobs he reached for the red inflatable floating freely close by. Josh was not in it. Panicking Quinn scanned the water line screaming out.

‘Josh!, Jill! Where are you? Fuck, please… Please God, where are you?’. His words bounced off the walls of the canyon. He heard a birdlike cry and whipped his head round in the direction of the noise. In the distance, he saw the other inflatable. It too was empty. Close to it was a mound in the water and it was moving. Quinn was confused. The picture was all wrong.

‘Jill I am coming, hang on’.

Quinn swam toward the floating mound. Swimming was as slow as through a strong current though the glacial water was calm and flat. Hypothermia had already begun to develop. Every stroke aged him a hundred years.

Kai was strapped to his mothers back. The cloth sling had kept him with her. Jill was floating face down in the water, and in raging grief, Quinn instinctively knew she had chosen to save their son. She had made sure he was out of the water the only way she could. She was dead. Kai was feebly mewling. Feverishly Quinn grasped Jill’s body. He could still smell campsite wood-smoke on her clothes.

‘Its OK Kai, I am here…. I am here…. Its OK, its OK’.

The sling was tied tightly. Stability was always important when carrying a baby on one’s back but never more so than when in the inflatables. The sensible precaution was now adding to the nightmare. The sling was a large rectangular cloth that wrapped around Kai’s body and tied at Jill’s waist in a large knotted bow. Quinn had to reach under her body to get to the gathered cloth but water-sodden, the knot had become tight and hypothermic confusion made its untying as complex as a fiendish Chinese puzzle. He dived under the water, again and again, each dive sapping energy and strength. Kai’s quiet cries had stopped and his small balled fists had started to become a mottled grey.

‘Jill I am sorry, I am sorry – please God someone help me!’

He had no choice. He had to turn the body over to undo the knot. It was the only way to free Kai. He would need to do it quickly and get Kai back to the shore.

‘I have to leave you darling. I am so sorry. I love you’.

He rolled her body over making barely a ripple in the water. As she turned he saw that her eyes were open and reflected the crisp blue of the sky above. Quinn’s wracking sobs filled the valley. Kai was under the water now and he had to act quickly but the swollen knot now being pulled with the weight of the child refused to give. It held fast and took all of the energy Quinn had left. The cold water enveloped him and he slipped into the now still and calm crystal clear depths.

On the shore- line, three miles away from the next nearest human being, now shoeless four year old Josh stood shivering and crying uncontrollably.

‘Mum, Dad, where are you? Mum? Dad?’

Trip of a lifetime – part three

 Lel Meleyal

The scenery was almost unreal. Filmic and perfect. The trees were vibrant, luminous greens of emerald and lime, the sky a turquoise cloudless blue, the canyon sides obsidian black which became navy under the rays of the sun. The air smelled freshly of pine and a hint of wood smoke hung in the still air. The spectacular and huge panorama was reflected in the seemingly bottomless lake headed by a magnificent, breathtaking glacier a short distance away. They stopped paddling. Jill smiled

‘Its always like seeing it for the first time’.

They were used to the eerie noises and understood that although it never looked much different, the glacier was fluid and ever moving. It cracked and creaked and groaned. Once Jill had said it was as if it was gently speaking in tongues but today Quinn thought it sounded angry and fierce. Both felt the same urgency to get moving across the half mile of the lake.  The glacier issued a long and low rumbling growl. The sound increased like a pebbled wave breaking on the shore. A whip-like crack filled the air of the canyon, startling birds out of the trees. Slowly, gently but majestically a wall of the glacier, thirty foot across and twenty foot high broke free and began to slip into the lake. Iceberg like, the majority of the sheet ice slid gently into the water but the top third crashed like a felled tree, slapping the water hard.

The first wave was relatively gentle. It was just a hilled swell followed by more in evenly spaced rippled succession. The inflatable bobbed and Josh laughed as Quinn’s hat fell off and into the water. His laugh echoed across the lake. Quinn turned excitedly towards Jill, kayaking just behind

‘Wow! Did you see that?’

Jill did not respond. Her shoulders were tense. She looked anxiously towards the camp, just a few short metres away.

‘Quinn, quickly, quickly, paddle toward the shore – hurry!’.

Momentarily Quinn was confused. He did not understand the fear in Jill’s voice.

The rippled swells from the glacier fall had made their way, quietly and gently towards the shore. As they met land they bounced away, like disturbed water in a bathtub and moved towards the ripples still coming from the ice fall. Where they met their combined force caused a turbulence. Not that of a storm, or even the passing of a motor boat but as Jill had immediately understood, enough to turn the inflatable kayaks.

‘Get the kids out of the water Quinn!’.

Trip of a lifetime – part two

Lel Meleyal

It wasn’t very long before the van became more of a shed than a home. They had been told to expect Alaska in the spring to be muddy, wet and unappealing. It was anything but. Unseasonably warm and quite stunningly beautiful they wild camped in the mind-bogglingly vast glacier field national park where the nights lit by starlight were even more beautiful than the daytime. The family camp expanded till the van was only used to sleep in when there were signs of bears being nearby. Josh had become bear poo expert in camp. The road trip stalled right there and both Jill and Quinn had never been happier. Until the winter months at least, the Alaskan tundra had become their home.

The inflatables only weighed four pounds each and were the size of a handbag when deflated. So far no punctures and they were easy to inflate. Initially, they had a foot pump but realised that with a little perseverance it was possibly simply to blow them up and this meant not having to carry the pump from the base camp – two days’ hike away – to the lake. To date, she always had the blue one, and he the red. Similarly, she carried Kai, and he took Josh. Just as they left most of their temporary camp in place when they left the shore-line, they would leave the kayaks, still inflated on the other side. In the year they had been living in the wilderness, they had never come across another human being so they did not worry that their belongings would be taken. They had once come across another camp and although apparently abandoned, they too did not take anything. They did use the shelter for an overnight stay though and hoped that should someone find their camp, they would feel free to do the same.

Once on the other side of the lake, it was a three-mile walk to the small town – the nearest populated habitat. They had visited three times so far to stock up on provisions and to telephone Cora to let the family know that they were fine and hadn’t been eaten by wolves or bears. Despite not seeing any other people when in camp, the small town of Hourecno welcomed them as if they were expected friends from their very first visit. Quinn remarked on the townspeople’s interest in their trip. Jill suggested it was less than interest and more likely to be patronising of an English family trying to find meaning in their lives while the towns young people were desperate to leave. Still, they were certainly friendly and helpful, and Jill was glad to have the opportunity for some unhealthy treats while they were there. Josh was growing so quickly he needed new shoes – again. He probably needed his hair cut too. In fact, they probably all did. They were starting to look like what Cora would call ‘new age travellers’. She reminded herself to visit the chemists in town for some child-friendly pain killers as Kai was now teething.

They carried the inflatables to the water’s edge. Quinn helped Jill get in first. As she carried Kai on her back, the craft was aft-heavy and if she wasn’t seated just right she got a lot of nose wag which made it harder to steer. It also meant that she could step in from dry land which meant she didn’t get a wet bum from water carried into the seat well on her shoes which was a bonus. When comfortable, he pushed her off and she floated into the glass still, crystal clear water. Next Josh was lifted into the red kayak and Quinn seated himself. Initially, the inflatables had been a challenge but it had not taken long to master and with a few paddles they were on their way.

Trip of a lifetime – part one

Lel Meleyal

Kai eagerly searched for his mother’s breast. Although the air was crisp and sharp, Jill was snug and content in her thick down sleeping bag. She would need to stop feeding him soon, but for now, as Kai suckled greedily she allowed herself a moment of tranquility: It wasn’t a life for everyone and indeed when they first announced their decision both families were aghast. Her Mother had pulled her to one side to ask if she was in her right mind. Quinn had looked so beautiful that day – masculine, rugged and handsome. He explained the plan carefully – they were going to sell their house, put belongings into storage and go exploring the wilderness in a camper van for a couple of years.

‘But Kai is still a baby and Josh only four! How on earth will you cope?’

Quinn’s mum was perhaps the most difficult to appease. Jill knew she had never really bonded with her but Josh adored her and she adored both he and Kai right back. Jill knew her angry tone covered up the profound anxiety she felt at losing her grand-babies.

‘It will be fine Cora, think of how much they will learn and the fun they will have – and of course, you can meet up with us along the way.’

In reality, Cora was only saying out loud what Jill herself had thought endlessly about but Quinn’s boundless enthusiasm for the project was infectious, and so here she now was, under the tree tethered tarpaulin listening to Kai’s gentle snuffles alongside the awakening dawn. He could be impetuous – she was the more cautious of the two – but somehow they balanced each other out perfectly. He was right about the trip. It was an adventure.

‘So Josh, why do we dig a deep hole?’

Quinn had always been clear that their adventure must be one of living with the environment, not taking from it. He was keen that the children developed both respect and love for nature and he was proving to be a fantastic teacher. Jill was so proud to hear Josh explaining that it was important to leave no trace in the wilderness and grateful to hear that Josh understood its importance in keeping wild animals away from camp. Their close encounter with the magnificent and terrifying – but fortunately not hungry – Grizzly bear was one she was not keen to repeat.

Alaska was supposed to be their first stopover on a year-long trip which was to take them on route to Canada and then through to the US down to Uruguay. Only, it didn’t happen like that. They collected the van bought on the internet. It was small and a bit more scruffy than expected but comfortable. They collected the provisions also ordered in advance and got straight on the road. ‘The wilderness’ had been their destination. It thrilled them both that coming from Sussex in the UK they had absolutely no idea what a wilderness really was.

‘What if one of us gets ill?’

Jill was the one who thought about the problems while Quinn saw the opportunities.

‘It will be fine, stop worrying – this is an adventure!’

At the end of class he waited for the empty room and came close. Without looking at me he said “I need to talk to you.”

“That’s fine”, I said, “Anything special?”

“Wait” he pleaded “I’ll see you later.”

I liked the end of the working day; the quietness of the place; the space to catch up and prepare; the time to breathe and unravel the pressure of those frenetic hours. I had enough to do to see me into another hour before going home.

Almost giving up on the appointment, the quiet knock on the door brought me back and, similarly quietly I said, “Come in”.

He approached, sat down, and kept silent.

“What’s up?” I said “Anything happened?”

A sound, ‘miles away’ broke the awkward silence. He leapt up, went for the door, opened it, and looked both ways. Assured that there was no one there, he same back and took his seat.

His serious voice took on an air of forcefulness. “Do you promise me that you won’t tell anyone about this conversation?” he demanded.

“Yes, ok.” I replied, fearing that I was being cornered into hearing and being secret about something quite terrible.

“I’ve been thinking so much, and I feel almost like exploding. That’s why I need to tell someone.”

“Sounds serious” I said, smiling and attempting to lighten his load in some way.

“It is serious. I think I’m homosexual!’ His words now spoken louder and with a sense of despair.

He looked at me, his eyes seeming to suggest the imminent end of his world.

“How do you know?” I asked.

“I know. I just know it. I look at boys the way that they look at girls and I try and fight the feelings away but they won’t go. I just don’t know what to do.”

The tears flowed.

My god! How I knew what he was going through. How I knew the fear, the self hatred, the guilt, the hope that I was in a never ending dream – all of that.

He composed himself and continued “I don’t want to be homosexual. I just want to be normal like everyone else. I want to be married and have children. I want my parents to be proud of me. I just want to get rid of these feelings’

“Is it really so bad?” I tried to suggest comfortingly, while desperately trying to send out signals that I wasn’t shocked, that he was accepted, and that there was hope.

We stayed silent for a while but then the seriousness of my situation dawned on me. I wanted so much to tell him that it really was ok; that I was homosexual too; that you could be happy, fulfilled and know love; that I was in a stable relationship; and so on and so on. I wanted to pour it all out to assure him.

Instead there was a feeling of horror and it lay in the words:-

‘You must not promote the teaching in any maintained school of the acceptability of homosexuality as a pretended family relationship’.

That’s what the law said and, perhaps even by allowing this conversation to go further I could already be breaking it. There hadn’t been any court cases as yet and I didn’t want to be part of the first.

Out of the silence I asked him if he had spoken to his parents about his feelings and what he really wanted to happen. He mentioned about going to see a psychiatrist.

I wanted to come out with all those things we could say to young people as they experience the sometimes frightening realisation of their sexual orientation. My heart went out to him and I wished I lived in a world where his acknowledgement would be a cause for celebration rather than disaster.

Eventually composed and unburdened, he left.

I did not feel good. I felt I had let him down with meaningless platitudes and ‘comforting’ words. I had let myself and my community down by my unfaithfulness. Where was my courage to proclaim that it was possible to be glad to be gay?

I don’t have a happy ending to this story except to say that a few years later, and miles away from home, I bumped into him. Having got over the surprise of our meeting I asked him how he was and he replied that he was fine, and he smiled at me, and somehow for me that smile conveyed something positive. We had no time to explore further, he went on his way and so did I. I so hope he found happiness.

Roger Newman, Margate

Tuesday: Where shall I go?

Anywhere I like. The luxury of an early holiday, a solitary cottage, good boots. Up the hill then, to see the view; winding round the pond and steeply uphill through the peat stacks to the Thinking Rock – a seat in the gasping wind, overlooking lakes and fat rolling hills. Overlooking hundreds of tiny islands, peacefully co-existing in the loving embrace of the bay. A family of them, confident and self-sufficient, calling gentle hellos to their neighbours across the shining water. And beyond that, the mighty mountain.

(Don’t look at the mountain, hideously scarred by the passage of religious men, their desperate pilgrim feet gouging out soil and sweeping away grass in the rush for salvation.)

Think about your own pilgrimage: this, the search for the next decision and whether it is right. The search for the next idea, the next film… letting the wind sweep the clutter from your head. The bad memories, with their nagging and demanding to be heard. The sad ones…can stay. Bring them out and greet them – lost friends and family. Days and dreams gone by. Regrets? No. No regrets.

(stand on the thinking rock and sing Piaf. Sing for joy, sing for courage… sing to mark your place in the wide landscape … your branch, your tree.)

Tears of wind, happy tears, overwhelming and faintly ridiculous. Let them wash your eyes and see more clearly, see more beauty – see…

… the path. From the lane to a bog road, then a flagstone path, to a thin sand-coloured stony line and then a dent in the grass, a darker green that can only be seen form certain angles. And finally, to a metaphor. That runs along the foothills, over crags and down to the bridge.

And at the journey’s end: rain. A community centre, a crafting circle making beauty out of someone else’s rubbish…and a woman who spoke to me earnestly of the need to save the Old Irish Goat. It seemed prophetic.

Fin McMorran, Teesside

“You’re like me. Aren’t you? “

I was mortified.

(wha?!! Am I fuck!!)

(I’m nothing like you!)

“Come, sit here.”

(Help me)

Bla bla bla “Do you like Elvis?’

(why are you doing this to me)

(I don’t even know you)

(you scare me)

(your hair is horrible)

(I’m NOTHING like you).

On holiday. Portugal.

A Kiss.

From a girl.

(i’m nothing like you)

Kiss Breasts.

Years later.

Car Crash.

(I could’ve died. Died and never been with a girl)

Lesbos.

So fucking corny. Totally by accident.

I’m one of them.

(Really?)

What do I do?

You’re a natural.

Butch Barbie, Liverpool

The Fat Queer’s Statement 2012: a path to wellbeing

Sheree Bell et al

Un-finding Narnia

Lel Meleyal

 We huddled together shivering and terrified in the bushes after being attacked by the great, white beast. We could still hear its screams and knew it was moving away. As the screeching racket became more distant our thumping hearts started to slow.

‘We’ve found Narnia!” I whispered to my cousin Bill.

Unlike me, Bill was not a reader and he did not understand. He thought I had said banana.

Bill was my closest friend, and we had spent every day together since he was born, five days after me, eight years before. Like most working class kids in the 60’s, we did not have umbrella parents, supervising our every move or entertaining us. We played outside and rarely went home so long as there was daylight, and we weren’t hungry.   I am not sure which of us was the leader but we made each other feel safe, and this explained many of the adventures we had. Unfortunately, the grown-ups sometimes got to know about our adventures and we were keen to avoid the kind of trouble we had occasionally experienced – such as the time we got a bus to a distant park and a search party came out to find us, or the time we climbed on glass roof of the kitchen lean-to and it cracked, or the time we ate a lot of dog biscuits to see what would happen. We both knew that we were not allowed on the railway tracks. That was a smacking offence, for sure.

We had followed the track for miles, or so it felt, leaping onto another track when a train passed by. We were thrilled by the noise, the smoke and whoosh of air and especially loved it when one of the drivers sounded their horn. I never felt in any danger. Just before we turned around to go home for tea we crossed the tracks to explore an iron fenced, wooded area. We slipped our skinny, soot smeared bodies through the rungs and crawled into the bushes. Through the lush green, waxy leaves we could see a magnificent gothic castle, topped by a pointed princess tower, tall chimneys and turrets. It was ivy-clad over yellow stone and red brick. The castle was surrounded by the lushest, greenest grass I had ever seen with exotic gardens dotted around – and a lake! It was completely breath-taking. We were both open mouthed in shock. That is when the great white beast attacked. Screaming into our faces with its red eyes locked onto us.

“I don’t care if you found banana you can’t tell your Mam – she will kill us”. I knew Bill was right when he took charge and said I could not go back for another look. It was too dangerous with the beast hanging around and so, reluctantly I followed him through the iron fence, back across the tracks and home. I felt disappointed. I had expected Narnia to be somewhere more magical than on the tracks leading to Hull railway station.

Our friends didn’t believe us of course but I knew what I had seen. I did once go back, alone and try to find it again, but the iron fence was no-where to be seen…….

Thirty years later, driving along a winding country lane in South Yorkshire I came face to face with the great white beast. I slammed on the brakes. It stood, in the middle of the road, shuddering and preening. A great arc of dazzling, shimmering quills. It stared at me with its angry red eyes and pointy beak before it slowly dropped its feathers and languidly walked through a hole in a roadside hedge. It was the most incredibly beautiful sight and I ached for it to come back. I heard the screaming ‘aaagh, aaagh, aaagh’ call – a sound which had never left my memory. A white peacock. A stunning, majestic, white feathered peacock.

I would like to say that I had a flash of understanding but that would be far from the truth. In the moment of seeing the peacock on that road, I had worked out that ‘the beast’ seen all those years before had been, in fact, a startled, rare albino bird, but what the hell was it doing next to a busy rail line in Hull? I felt a desperate urge to get back home to try to work it out.

Heart pounding, I pulled out the map and ran my fingers along the rail track from where it abutted our street. About a mile along, a large patch of green, with lake, was there, closeted by Victorian slums, railway track and industry. After almost forty years I had found my Narnia.

The building we had stumbled upon was Hymers College. A prestigious private school, established in 1893.

I am not sure that some mysteries are better solved.

Hymers College.

JOURNEY

I’ve travelled the world

and stayed happily at home.

I’ve birthed well-loved children

and watched while they’ve grown.

I’ve ridden and run

and walked in the sand.

I’ve ranted and raged,

but held many a hand.

I’ve progressed in my life,

though I’ve needed a shove.

And I’ve moved right along

From self-harm to self-love.

But the best thing I’ve learned,

from this journey I chart.

If you’ve got good friends;

Keep them close to your heart.

Anon