Don’t Try And Stop Me

Determination, stickability, hold a candle, light it and peer into the darker corners. Don’t give up, don’t give in, don’t give out, don’t give it another thought. Whatever you do, don’t step down or back. Plough on, forwards march, right left, right left. Push onward, ignore the sidelong glances from passing strangers.

Vivainne must supply the determination necessary, chin high, eyes on the prizes.

What are the prizes by the way? Bottle of Champagne, weekend at the Silly Spa, two tickets to the races. Would that be the three-legged race, turnip and teaspoon, pitchfork and carrot (don’t try this at home), maybe the two hundred and five meter sprint, or longer distances like the two hundred and seven meter dash.

I have won a huge medal and a certificate with a red wax seal and rosette made of ribbons on my wall next to a silver figurine on a black plinth standing on one leg, the other leg is raised with a ball balanced.

I think that I must define this determination that I require, thought Vivainne, before the outset of her quest to supply some proverbial backbone to help fill the Blue Knight’s vacant lot with things of universal value.

The Sphinx had provide the Cornucopia. Sheba had discovered and provided a Panacea in pill format (one each). Constance had nailed the Love thing, and now Vivainne was feeling the pressure to fulfil her obligation.

I think that Determination must arrive in the form of an attitude and not an object. Thusly it is difficult to provide. I shall go to the Emporium of Useful Attributes and see if they have anything on offer at the moment.

At the emporium, passing the great glass doors with dark wood surrounds, Vivainne entered into a medium sized room with large square jars lining the shelves way up to a high ceiling and also a counter, behind which stood a woman weighing out Curiosity in little pots of question marks.

Good morning, said Vivainne, Bonjour, said the woman, J’ecoute.

I would like a large packet of ‘Don’t stop me now’ please, said Vivainne.

I’m afraid we don’t have anything in that colour, said the woman, moving towards the shelves and looking up. I do have some ‘Here we go, here we go, here we go’ but that has a strong dash of sport and might not be appropriate. Errrr…. Let me see, ah yes, this might suit, I have here, she said, climbing a tall thin ladder, A jar of Grit (and Determination) which has had excellent reviews.

I’ll take the whole jar, said Vivainne.

The woman laughed, This is rare and special stuff, you must understand, it comes at one thousand coins the gram, buy one get one free. Do you have a loyalty card?

So, one thousand coins for two grams or 500 coins per gram then. No, I don’t have a loyalty card.

I suppose you could put it that way, said the shop keeper, but we don’t sell less than a gram as it tends to fall through the cracks. Do you want a loyalty card, the benefits are several?

Can I pay contactless? asked Vivainne. Of course, said the woman, intending to be a bit sarcastic, What century do you come from? And she laughed.

Vivainne, taking the question seriously, replied, I’m originally from the 1300’s, but my writer is a bit loose with timelines to be honest, so I can pop up in almost any era. No loyalty card thanks, I shall not return this way.

Alors, said the woman, weighing out the Grit, do you want it gift wrapped, c’est gratuit.

Good idea said Vivainne. The Grit was tipped carefully into a cut glass vial with a silver stopper attached by a small chain. The vial was nestled into some plush velvet inside a carven box. This whole was into a coloured bag with a handful of petals and fragrant herbs.

Gift Card? Said the woman. Yes, good idea, said Vivainne. Put on it, Dear Blue Knight, I do hope you and our family are well, Have a Very Happy Christmas and a Peaceful New Year. XXXXX Lots of love Vivainne

A Christmas gift at this time of the year? Said the shop woman querulously.

It’s a late one I know, said Vivainne, but I forgot to send them a card so I’m trying to make up. Oh yes, I nearly forgot, does it come with instructions.

There is a manual, but it comes extra, said the shop lady. I’ll take it, said Vivainne and paid from a distance, which is the most extreme form of contactless, only executed by experts.

Vivainne exited with the colourful paper bag dangling from her gauntlet. She took a takeaway coffee to a nearby park, in a playground nearby where children were manufacturing sounds so high that some were inedible. She sat upon a bench with the words, Hilda Never Sat Here But Wishes She Had, carved on the back. Vivainne opened the instruction manual which emblazoned ‘Grit and Determination, a user Guide with Illustrations’. She flicked through idly whilst sipping her coffee, which had remained at a temperature akin to that found on the surface of molten lava, until she came across a chapter called, ‘Life is Tough, (When to tell your children)’

She read:

Don’t shatter their illusions too early and do not keep them in the dark until it is too late. Either way they will blame only you, as they should. They are, after all is said and done, your fault. There is a window, only lasting a matter of moments, which parents must discern. This moment is different for each child/adolescent. Whatever happens, you will always love them more than they love you, that’s just physics.

Sounds tricky, thought Vivainne.

Later she placed the bag outside the bedroom door of the Blue Knight so that he might have a surprise in the morning.