NO MORE GROUNDHOG DAYS
This all started in the bar one Friday night. I saw Billy put on his coat and turn and smile and just slowly pull up his overcoat. I didn’t say a word. Kept it to myself. I thought that’s the way to play it. Say nowt and then you don’t get yourself into any bother. You know what I mean; I would end up saying something I’d regret.
Do you know when a man and woman have fight and you side with one or the other and the next thing you know you’re slagging off the one that’s not there and then the other one finds out and they cut you off of their Christmas card list. I could see all of that in Billy’s movement. Best to be quiet. When I got home I started thinking and thought this is just like my favourite film, ‘Groundhog Day’, you know with Bill Murray and Andie McDowell, when this one day’s repeated and repeated. I thought could I be living ‘Groundhog Day.’
The next day I had just finished watching the film for the third time and was listening to the usual sounds in the street. The dog was silent. That was really was unusual. Normally it barks when a fly flies by. I don’t know if it’s a he or she. Just know that it’s black and barks when anyone trundles innocently by its door. It’s not annoying its bloody annoying. It was at that precise moment when the dog wasn’t barking that I picked up my blue pen. That was the moment I thought, yes I have done this in exactly the same way a million times before. And I said out loud “no more.” I have to change, I have to break the pattern and do something I don’t usually do. Change the habits of a lifetime: No more Groundhog Days.
That’s when I wrote the notice on my door. I didn’t use my blue pen but a thick black felt pen.
That was the beginning of it. I’d said I wasn’t going to say anything but I ended-up letting loose on the world. It was like lancing a boil. The next day my door was covered, and I do mean covered, in little and big notes. Things like:
“Every worm has its day and this worm will turn”… “No more overtime…” “You pay the television license.” I don’t know if those two knew each other.
You know what happened next? The local newspaper did an article. They had a photograph on their front page with me standing and smiling at the door, I was pointing at the door with the words, “No more”.
Then it was the radio and T.V. I wasn’t sure what to tell them. What can you say in that kind of situation? I didn’t want to mention the bar and Billy putting his arm into his coat. That seemed daft and anyway they were looking, or the interviewer was anyway, for a big story. She said it had been a ‘dead news day.’
That’s when I came out with it. I felt like some …well to be honest …John Lennon, “make peace not war”…I heard myself saying things I’d never even thought of before.
It all was all spilling out…“No more Ground Hog Day… is the first day of your new life…if you need to leave your partner…get out of a dead marriage…hand in your notice…today is the most important day in your life…make the change now…”
I went on like this for six minutes…I watched the interviewer nod her head, thinking to herself, this will be on national television and it will change my life…no more Groundhog Day for me…Then she spoke directly to the camera, she motioned to the cameraman to do a close up on her face as she turned slowly and then looked so sincere…
“I feel privileged to be here today…at the beginning of a new order, a new religion…a new way of life…ladies and gentlemen…the ‘No More Groundhog Day Society’ has been born and I have helped to deliver that child.”
Then she went to talk about great thinkers who had influenced the world…“Karl Marx, Plato, Ruskin now will the name of Peter Hall be added to that illustrious list?”
It went wild after that and that’s why I’m living in hiding. That’s how I’m here. The newspaper, a tabloid, has paid me a small fortune for my story and they have ‘exclusive rights’. Whatever that means.
I’m living up here in Northumberland. Well Blyth actually. Two rooms above a pub.
The newspaper people are next door, playing cards. They said they had put me up in a luxury hotel. Paper thin walls, leaky toilet. I’ve never been out of this bloody room. They got me wear a wig and this robe. You would not believe what people say to you. They’ve taken to calling me ‘The Messiah.’ I was shocked at first but you get used to it. Bound to I suppose.
The cameraman they sent to record my every single move for the feature they are doing is always trying to be funny, he asked what did I think about the world economy and what would win the 2.30 at Chepstow. I said put a tenner on ‘The Messiah.’ It won at ten to one. He’s been following me around bowing and scraping ever since.
The trouble is I’ve had the same thing happen over and over. I know exactly how Bill Murray felt. I half expect Andie McDowell to come in and say, “Have you seen Phil Conners?”
I don’t know if it’s this room or whether something has happened to me. The photographer keeps coming and asking about the world economy and what do I fancy in the 2.30 at Chepstow.
That cameraman has asked me the same questions and I have told him the same answers four times over the past six hours. I didn’t believe it at first. That’s why I’ve recorded it. He’s either a very good actor or I am able to have time repeat and repeat itself. What does it mean?
My mother wouldn’t believe this. She died eight years ago, past January. I lived with her all me life. Never knew me dad. He died before I was born. Didn’t even know his name. He would be surprised to have a Messiah for a son.
Sitting here has given me time to think about life. The reporter says ‘contemplation’. He’s spiritual even though he does seem to drink a lot of whiskey. “It goes with the territory” he says. I just listen when he talks. I think that’s how he believes Messiah’s should behave.
‘A very quiet life.’ That’s what I’ve had. Never married. No serious relationship. I worked as a clerk at an engineering firm then when it went bust I got a job as a security man. Mostly nights. Sitting in draughty cabins with a calor gas fire. I didn’t mind though. I enjoy my own company. Being contemplative isn’t a problem.
What I do next is a problem. Something is happening and I can’t put my finger on it. I don’t want to end up like Ned Peterson, the Nerd in Groundhog Day.
I want to be Bill Murray, change my life and learn from it. That’s the message of hope in the film. That’s not me talking but Halliwell’s film guide. You see not only have I seen the film at least twice a day since it was released. I have read everything about it.
In some ways I seem to be striking a blow for the little man, the man in the corner that no-one knows too much about. That keeps himself to himself, isn’t loved too much or hated either but does his bit for society, even if it’s just sitting in draughty huts getting their legs burnt from calor gas fires.
I feel as if I should help society. Give people a little hope. I don’t know how it’s happened but I know this week’s lottery numbers. Is that what we want from our leaders, our so-called Messiahs? Financial gain?
There’s something wrong with the electricity in this place.
It’s affecting the camera. Do you have a pen? Your lives will be changed forever. Is that what a Messiah should do? The winning lottery numbers are….If you haven’t a piece of paper, write them on the back of your hand.
All the lights have gone but remember, No More Groundhog day. Does it really matter about the Lottery numbers?
END.
In The Crazy Oik, Issue 31 Autumn 2016
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