Author Archives: Rebecca Windsor

About Rebecca Windsor

I'm an actor and writer living in London.

I Am Here

Quick fifteen minute writing exercise, I Am Here:

Where the sky meets the trees

And the ocean teases the earth

There’s a little piece of me here with you

Waiting for the moon

Where the air breathes life in to the void

And the birds bring in the dawn

A part of me there with you

Waiting for the stars

Where the grass tickles new born feet

And the flowers raise and fall

There’s my hands

Digging in to the ground

Holding on for you

Where the people stop and stare

To catch their breath

Or pay their respects

There I am

Waiting patiently for the night sky

And the evening owl

There I long for you

Where the days are long and silent

The peace deafening

There I am

Calling for you

Looking for you

Waiting for you

Loyal like the morning sun

Steady as the northern star

I am here for you

Here I wait for you

I am the dust

And the breeze

The whisper

And the roots

I am calling for you

I am waiting for you

Here I am in the ground for you

Waiting for you

I am apart of you

I wait for the end

I call you home

Here I am

A piece of time

Locked in a box

Never moving forward

Never going back

Frozen in a moment

Waiting for you

I am here.

 

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Look Up

A quick writing exercise. Stop for fifteen minutes and write. Have a cup of tea. Write. Waiting for that delayed train. Write. Waiting for the last load of washing. Write. Letting that face pack set (me today) write. Avoiding the tax return (also me today). Write. Write anything. But write.

Here’s a few of my 15 minute words:

Look up:

Look up from the looking glass.

Let your eyes be the only filter you need.

Let the hashtag alone.

look up from the looking glass.

Look up from the comparison.

Look up from the judgement.

Look up from the noise.

Let in the truth you can truly see.

Look up from the looking glass.

Listen to the real voices whispering in your ear.

Look up from the looking glass.

Be the only like that matters.

Look up from the looking glass.

Be in the moment.

Live it.

Don’t share it.

Look up from the looking glass.

There’s more to feel.

More to see.

More to hear.

Look up from the looking glass.

Lock eyes with the reality beyond the screen.

Beyond the touch up and comments.

Look up.

Look up from the looking glass.

Look up and be free.

 


Soap & Salt

There have been tears on the kitchen floor days.

When I was little and when I was old.

There have been missed days.

And long drawn out painful days.

There’s been tears in the shower, mixed with the soap days.

There’s been picking yourself up days.

There’s been no strength to breathe days.

There’s been listening to the world outside days.

Or watching it as you scroll through the screen days.

Picture after picture.

Life after life.

Stalker spectators.

There’s been broken days.

And there’s been I’ll survive it days.

There’s always I miss you days.

There’s salt on my cheeks days.

And the soap to start again days.

There’s always a morning.

And I miss the goodnights.

There’s days I remember.

And days I choose to forget.

I never see you anymore days.

I look for you everywhere days.

I long to sleep days.

And I’m keeping busy days.

There’s the loss days.

I don’t know what happened days.

I thought this was it days.

And it’s replaceable generation days.

I wonder if you saw me days.

There’s the filtered days.

Upgrading our lives days.

Hashtag and video diary days.

I think of the world days.

Voting for world leaders. One like at a time days.

Days to come.

Because of days that went.

There’s the worry days.

Skipping the ten minute catch up on the news days.

I can’t bring myself to look days.

There’s the empty hand days.

And there’s the wipe it all away days.

Salt on my fingers.

Salt on my lips.

Soap to cleanse.

Soap to ease.

There’s always another day.

There’s always keep believing days.

And there’s I can’t take it days.

There’s always someone there for you days.

We can have it all days.

What if we can’t days.

There’s beauty in a sunset.

There’s excitement in a dawn chorus.

I’m looking at the world days.

I’m waiting for tomorrow days.

I’m here days.

And I’m mixing the salt and the soap days.


I’ll Leave You

I’ll leave flowers by your bed so you can smell summer knocking on closed doors.

I’ll leave flowers by your bed so you can touch the petals, the leaves, the dusts of water. Feel nature. Feel life. Feel apart.

I’ll leave flowers by your bed so when we lie together, side by side, quite, hands entwined, we can look to the flowers, because you can’t look to me.

I’ll leave flowers by your bed simply because you like them.

I’ll leave flowers by your bed to bring you comfort. To bring you joy. To bring your aching eyes peace. To let you know I was there.

I’ll leave flowers by your bed because I can’t leave a piece of me.

I’ll leave flowers by your bed so when the morning sun spreads her fingers across your room and you turn away, watch. Watch as the flowers stretch towards her, watch as they let the heat warm their delicate skin, as they drink up everything she has to offer. Watch. Learn. Be free.

I’ll leave flowers by your bed because I long to leave you something. Anything.

I’ll leave flowers by your bed because you get to stay and I have to leave.

I’ll leave flowers by your bed so you remember me.

I’ll leave flowers by your bed for the happy days. For the sad days. For the nothing days. That I cherish above all others. Our days.

I’ll leave flowers by your bed because I love you.

I’ll leave flowers by your bed because I am gone.

I’ll leave flowers by your bed because I remain.

I’ll leave you.

But always keep flowers by your bed.


The Old Man in The Phone Box – A Monologue

 

No. No. NO. NO NO NO NO NO! WHAT? I CAN’T HEAR YOU. I CAN’T UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU ARE SAYING.

Pause.

FUCK YOU!

Beat.

Hello?

Silence.

I’m just trying to find my friend. Hello? … HELLO?

Pause.

She’s got white hair. She’s had white hair since she was fifty-five, never dyed it, pure white, like she got shocked one day. She’s small. Smaller than me, comes up to my chest, top of her head fits into my neck, sit’s like it was designed to slot in there, perfect, tidy.

Silence.

Hello? … She’s been missing since Friday. FRIDAY! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING ABOUT IT? … Hello? Hello! … She doesn’t like sweet thing’s, she’s a savory gal. She’ll destroy a pork pie in two bites. I’ve seen her do it. Bloody loves a pork pie. She went out. Friday. She went out. Went to see her friend. She drove. You writing this down? You better be writing it all down. It’s important information. She’s a good driver. WHAT? WHAT DID YOU SAY? NO. NO. NO. NO NO NO NO NO! IT WASN’T MY FAULT.

Pause.

Hello? Hello? Are you there? … She’s seventy-eight. SEVENTY-EIGHT. Her birthday is the tenth of June. We go away. Every year we go away for her birthday. She doesn’t like being at home. Even if it’s just a night in a hotel, Travelodge or Premier Inn, she loves it. Loves being away. HER BIRTHDAY IS TENTH OF JUNE! She likes one big main present. Can’t be doing with lots of little things, she always preferred one big main present. And don’t get her a card. She hates cards, they just go in the bin, she says. No cards. NO CARDS!

Pause.

I’m trying to find my friend.

Silence.

I’m eighty. We’ve been married sixty years. I remember because I was twenty when we married. She was eighteen. She was so pretty. Still is. In the same way too, and that’s not just me, lots of people say it. Say she’s pretty. WHAT? … MY NAME? IT DOESN’T MATTER WHAT MY NAME IS! HER NAME IS CHARLOTTE.

Beat.

CHARLOTTE!

Pause.

She went for a drive, to see her friend.

Pause.

I’ve never had much money. We’re in the bracket people call working class. It’s really British init? Giving people a title what ends in the word class. Working, Middle, upper… Class. It’s a clasp your whole life. She was proper class though, loved people, loved being with other people, friends, family, neighbours, loved a get together. Proper class.

Beat.

We’ve got no other family. No children. It’s just her and me.

Silence.

The nurse said to stop popping by, but I can’t, I can’t find her, she’s been missing since Friday. You can’t call her Charlie, she doesn’t like it, she’ll say, its Charlotte. She liked sounding posh. Charlotte. Mrs. Peter John Myers. Charlotte Myers. Mrs. Myers. My wife. Mrs. Myers. SHE’S BEEN MISSING SINCE FRIDAY! FRIDAY! NO. NO. NO. NO NO NO NO NO! IT WASN’T MY FAULT.

He bangs the handle against the wall. Pause.

I’m trying to find my friend. Please. She’s been missing since Friday. She lives with me, she’s my wife, she went out. Went to see a friend. She drove. She’s a good driver. WHAT? WHAT DID YOU SAY? NO. NO. NO. NO NO NO NO NO! IT WASN’T MY FAULT.

Pause.

What? WHAT? WHERE DO I LIVE? Where I’ve always lived. In my house. I brought it in the eighties, two bed, two garden, which is rare these days, front and back garden, one bath, one toilet, one kitchen, dinning room and living room, but it doesn’t fucking matter! Because she’s not there! She’s fucking missing. Been missing since Friday! WHY AREN’T YOU HELPING ME! WHY AREN’T YOU LISTENING!

He starts banding the handle against the wall again.

SHE’S BEEN MISSING SINCE FRIDAY! FRIDAY! NO. NO. NO. NO NO NO NO NO! IT WASN’T MY FAULT.

The cable isn’t attached to the receiver; it hangs loosely from the phone handle.

She went for a drive, to see her friend. She’s a good driver. Passed her test first time. I was really proud of her. She even knew the mechanics of the car. She was really handy, she worked in the factory, and she picked stuff up, that was what she was like, she just picked stuff up. She would have been fine; I never worried about her driving anywhere. YOU LISTENING! SHE WOULD HAVE BEEN FINE. SHE WOULD HAVE BEEN FINE! NO. NO. NO. NO NO NO NO NO! IT WASN’T MY FAULT. IT WASN’T MY FAULT!

He’s breathing heavily.

She was upset. I’d upset her. Said something. I said something I shouldn’t have. It was the last thing I said to her. SHE’S BEEN MISSING SINCE FRIDAY! The last thing I said? The last thing I said to her… The last thing I said was…

‘There’s some days, that I wish we’d had children.’

Pause.

She lost babies. That was what was happening. She couldn’t take it, I couldn’t take it, so we stopped, stopped planning, stopped hoping, and stopped living for a little while. But we got back to us. You do when its real love. But I shouldn’t have said that. It just came out. I meant it too, but she was seeing her friend’s grandkids and I was thinking of that. Thinking what it must be like to have grandkids. People think men don’t get broody, but we do, I did anyway, would have loved kids, but I loved her more. I loved her more. It probably affected her, me saying that. Probably made her loose her concentration.

He’s calmer, but there are tears of frustration.

Why aren’t you helping me? Way aren’t you listening? She’s been missing since Friday. Friday, she went for a drive, went to see her friend. She was driving a blue Ford, went past Millers Place and pulled out by Tesco’s, she didn’t look, she didn’t check, she wasn’t speeding, but her foot touched the pedal, and there was a lorry…

Beat.

I’m trying to find my friend. She’s been missing since Friday. She went for a drive, went to see a friend.

There’s been a crumpled piece of paper in his hand, he allows his fist to unclench, and it’s a picture of Charlotte, she’s mid fifties, happy, smiling.

Please. I’m just trying to find my friend.

Silence.

Hello?

Silence.

Hello?

HELLO!!!

Silence. He’s clinging on to the phone; the photo slowly disappears in to his clenching fist.

I’m trying to find my friend.

 

 

 

 

 


Ride the Storm

Ride the Storm.

But the sea knows no bounds.

Take a deep breath. Hope it all ends.

The moon she rises, and with her the fleeting birds of dawn.

She knows no bounds.

Let her hold you.

Her grip tightly round your throat.

Her love knows no bounds.

She is your beginning.

She is your end.

Ride the storm.

Let her carry you.

Bound through waves.

Calm seas.

The beginnings of a ripple.

Ride the storm.

The moon will push you.

Pull you.

Let her be.

Her world knows no bounds.

Ride the storm.

Wait.

Watch.

Learn.

But ride the storm my love.

Do not fight.

Do not float.

Do not panic.

Just ride the storm my love.

Just ride the storm.


Dear Mother Earth,

Dear Mother Earth,

I must start this letter with an apology. We have hurt you and the worse part is, we are continuing to cause you immense pain and distress. In a time when the world is so advanced and we have the technology to do so much good, it seems we are unable to do right by you. We are losing species after species, instead of protecting and nourishing, we have become the destruction, and you’re getting pretty hot under the collar, and I don’t blame you. But we can’t seem to register your displeasure. Even convince some people that your anger is real.

In a time when radio adverts about food resources are real, and people rage about the red tape that is blocking their way, instead of looking at what that red tape might be protecting, I need you to try and understand as we teach/preach that age-old wisdom of learning to share.

Sharing – have a portion of (something) with another or others

People are forgetting what their mothers taught them. People are forgetting other people.

I’m lucky. I’m fit and able and even in my small way I am able to contribute to the country in which I live and work, and I do not begrudge a small amount of my money going back into that country and community, because I’m a part of it. I’m grateful that I can do so. If someone needs the health care, the home, the food, the warmth, the pleasures of even a simple luxury, because they are human and so therefore matters, because all life matters, then I am willing and happy to share. Likewise I want to be a citizen of the world, not just my back yard and so I extend that hand globally, because if we shut ourselves up, close ourselves off, stare at nothing but the TV, we are lost, a drift.

We need to learn to preserve, nourish and share. Because we’re gobbling up everything in our way, and not thinking about the three, four generations coming up behind us. If we use up everything now, because lets face it, it’s all about the money; we’ll leave nothing behind us. Nothing natural. Nothing good.

We’ve been told it’s for that car, that house, that plasma TV, that beautiful handbag, that holiday. It’s for our safety. It’s for our own good. It’s for making things great again… It’s for things I don’t understand. Nothing should ever come at the cost of life.

I know what you’re thinking. That’s a lot to learn, in what feels like not enough time. But we’re smart! I promise you we are. We can be better/faster learners. We have to be. We don’t really have a choice.

So please bear with us as we learn to spread some love. Some kindness. I know it sounds a little corny… but maybe that’s not such a bad thing. Please bear with us as we learn to share.

To stop the wall before it can be built.

Best wishes,

Us. x


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