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cazzyf1 · 4 months ago

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My favorite and interesting quotes from: Mike Hawthorn : Golden Boy - By Tony Bailey and Paul Skilleter

As a child, his fondest memory is the occasion when, on his 11th birthday in 1954, Mike bought him a Hornby train set. (Mike's cousin) -p2

Miss Murrel remembers that Mike was a very nice little boy. He looked after after his brown and orange uniform well and had such lovely golden hair. She also added that "of course, he was naughty. They are always naughty" - p4

Due to his thick head of blonde, almost white hair he gained the nickname 'Snowball' - p7

Many years later he made a guest apperance on television, playing the trumpet on the Billy Cotton Band Show - p7

"One year, it must have been 1958, just before the presentation, I was washing my hands when I felt am arm go around my shoulders - it was Mike - whose year it was to receive the award after having become World Champion. 'Hello, Jullens,' he said. 'I remember you were very kind to me when you caught me smoking' - the usual punishment was six of the best - 'you didn't report me and simply warned me not to get caught again!'" - p9

Ardingly had the destination of being near the spot where the first German V1 'doodlebug' fell on Britian. This occurred on 13th of May 1944 and was heard by Mike and the other boys in his dormitory. This distinctive pulsing, harsh jet noise cut out almost directly overhead and the boys dived underneath their beds. The V1 fortunately glided for another half a mile before crashing at the village of Cuckfield - p9

Mike suffered the disturbing experience of his parents separating. Both Leslie and Winifred were strong characters, and Leslie also had an explosive temper - not to mention, it would seem, a propensity for having affairs, and a pronounced fondness for beer. So perhaps the rift which developed between them was not unexpected, and Winifred moved from Merridale, the family home in Farnham, to a flat in West Street. Mike continued to have great regard for both his parents, but perhaps because Merridale no longer felt like home without his mother, he too moved out, and stayed for a while with the family of his friend Niel McNab - p13

He was an intensely private man in many ways but he was aware of who he was and his fame. He was incredibly moody - people have this image of him as a great, gallant sportsman, the life and soul of the party, but I saw a completely different side of him. It's been recorded in books that his friends would say that he's been fine one minute then cut them dead the next day. And he would. - p27

She was a pupil at the Farnham Girls Grammar School when Mike went there once to give a talk on road safety, just weeks before his accident - p27

The first time I saw Michael was on my first day at the garage; his first words to me were: "I hope you can make a cup of tea as good as your mother!" I found out later when I made my first tea the comment from him was: "No, it's not as good as his mother's" I think I heard 'gnat's pee' mentioned as well - p28

Mike always had his tea in the workshop with the staff when he was out there. The blokes all had their own cups; Mike's cup was a monster of a blue and white one - p19

Mike was driven into work as he was on crutches with a leg or foot in plaster. This is etched on my memory because when he saw me, in my new overalls in his garage, he raised one crutch and pointed it at me and asked the staff with him, 'Who the fuck is that?' - p29

On another memorable occasion Mike came squelching into the workshop after my blood. He had managed to put his foot into my mop bucket and spilt the water all over his office. Hardly my fault if a top racing driver doesn't look where he is going! I didn't say that to him, though! By Christmas 1956 Mike had either forgiven me or decided to get his own back. He had won Reims and part of the prize was 100 bottles of champagne. Anyway on Christmas Eve he opened several bottles for a staff party. We only had pint beet glasses and Mike personally handed them out to workers, including Brian and myself, and they were full to the brim - pints of champagne! - p30

I was working with Brit one day and I let my nickname for the sales manager, Mr Burton, slip. Brit was highly amused but what I did not know was later he said something to Mike. I was doing my dinner-time stint on the pumps a couple of days later when Hawthorn came striding across to the kiosk. My heart sank as I thought I am in for another bollocking. He came in and said: "Right you little bugger, Brit tells me you have a nickname for my sales manager - what is it?" I sheepishly told him and he roared with laughter and called me a cheeky sod - p31

"One day he was drooling at it when a tall blonde tall chap suddenly opened the showroom door and barked "Don't just stand there dribbling down my window, if you want to look at it, come and do it properly!" Mike spent time showing the youngster the finer points, sat him in it and even popped a crash helmet on his head." Also, Colin Pool relates: "My Mother was very friendly with Mike when I was younger. As an only child, I was carted around the various cocktail parties in Farnham area. One day, to keep me amused and I guess to keep me quiet, Mike put me in charge of his Jaguar and went back to the party. All was well until I found the handbrake which I managed to release! The car went downhill into a rhododendron bush! No damage but no more treats like that!" - p32

Once dad was working back at the garage from 1954, in later years Mike would come to our house and, if the timing was right, he used to take me to school in his green Jaguar. He knew that I was terrified of him - not in a nasty way - but to me, as a young schoolgirl, he was this great big man with all that blonde hair and he used to play on this. Often dad would be working down the garage and I'd take his sandwiches down and Mike would just follow me round with his eyes and grin - he knew it took all the courage I could find to walk in there when he was watching. But he was lovely and, as I've said, he'd often take me to school. Sometimes he'd come up to the house with Grogger. - p33

He then challenged Hawthorn to stand on his hands. Mike at first said no as he was a big bloke. We all egged him on, so JMH said OK but if Ted hurt himself it was his fault. Blow me if Ted went and did it - lifted him clean up till his arms were straight - p35

Then there was April Ashley who, as you will no doubt recall, was the first person to have a sex change operation in the country. This was in the early 1960s. Prior to that she was a well-known drag act in the fifties. It was coming up to tea break and Michael was in the workshop near the stove when she arrived. A look of panic came over Hawthorn's face and he made a Le Man's start for the office and sprinted across, calling out to me with some urgency in his voice "Brian, go and tell that person that I am not in," I went to the workshop door, by this time 'that person' was standing by thr door, to me a very heavily made-up female. I said 'God Morning madam, can I help you?' And a surprisingly deep voice said, 'Is Mike in?' - p36/37

My brother Alan remembers coming down to the TT one Christmas for our booze up. I asked Mike if it was OK for him to have a jar - he said "The more the merrier." Mike asked Alan what he would like and he said a whiskey. He promptly got a bloody great tumbler full! - p41

I have many memories and bits and bobs including Michael's Challenge me the Race, obviously a first edition. Most of the people who worked there at the time were given one. It has a Gillette sports parade photo he signed for me (and called me a bloody nuisance for asking,) which I stuck inside the front leaf. Mike misspelt my name on it, probably on purpose - p44

Ann was the main office lass and she had a junior girl working with her. Ann was a tall, dark haired, slim and attractive lass but strictly off limits to Michael on orders of Mrs Hawthorn - p45

Mike was very hit and miss with the media. He wasn't keen on them. There was one journalist, I think his name was John Penrose, and he may have worked for a local newspaper. He had a big lefthand drive 1940's Buick. Journalists weren't really allowed on the garage premises except him - strange really; Mike was such a private man in many ways - p46

During their years at Merridale, the marriage of Leslie and Winifred deteriorated, however, and as a teenager Mike would have witnessed some uncomfortable scenes at Merridale - indeed, the couple were renowned locally for their rows - p63

Mrs Hawthorn would keep her distaste of journalists for the rest of her life, the more so after Mike died, when they caused her so much distress that she felt the need to destroy much of what remained of his personal effects - p64

Mike soon found Merridale a lonely place without his mother and, with his father often away for long periods, he moved in for six months with the McNabs, sharing a bedroom with his lifelong friend Neil - p64

"I hope you all had a good Xmas. Mine was pretty rotten. I was staying in France at the time and I was feeling the effects of a vaccination I had for smallpox. I tried a little skiing there but decided it was too risky. I might have sprained or broken an ankle, and that would have put paid to my racing here in Argentine" Mike's letter home - p66

"Nearly every night there has been a cocktail party, or dinner party. The people here are very generous. Believe it or not we actually did some motor racing" - p67

"By the way when I was in Ireland a couple of weeks back I saw two little model cars in a garage window. I brought then for Neil and Ian (Mike's younger cousins) and hope they like them. The garage people said they would post them to you. I don't know which car the boys want for themselves, but I would let them sort it out between them. I'm afraid it's rather a late Xmas present but I could not do much about it when I was in Italy" - p68

"I owe everything to my Father," he said simply to a journalist after he had won the World Championship - p71

Mike himself walked bear headed in the rain, supporting his mother with a hand still red from the Syracuse burns as they walked along the path to the church - p72

He also revealed that he had, in fact, volunteered for flying duty with the RAF - one of his boyhood dreams had been to be a spitfire pilot - but he had been rejected out of hand due to his kidney problem - p72

Jean Ireland, whom as Jean Howarth would be Mike's fiancé, says that Mike was unable to tell the press about the true serious nature of his condition, as if it had become common knowledge, almost certainly his international racing licence would have been revoked, ending his motor racing career there and then. So he just had to edure the abuse, and continue to avoid being drafted by whatever means he could - p74/75

When in England Mike was usually at a local pub, but had always left before the police arrived with the documents (call up papers). The police officer felt sure that Mike was being tipped off by a sympathiser at the local police station - p75

Mike would then drive past the police station, in his Jaguar blowing the horn with two fingers held high out of the drivers window - p75

Mum recalls a Monday morning when she got there Mrs Hawthorn was chundering away. On the previous day, Sunday, Michael had offered to mow the lawn, which was most unusual as he rarely did anything in the garden. She was dubious about letting him do it but as he had offered she said ok. They had a petrol mower you walked behind. Mrs Hawthorn said that after a few minutes it sounded as if a Grand Prix was going on outside so she went out to investigate. There was Mike belting up and down the lawn mowing a zigzag pattern, as he thought she would like a change... Mike got a severe wrist slapping for that and it took my Dad a few mowing sessions to repair that one - p76

Mrs Taylor found that Winifred was forever sending clothes to the cleaners and remembers Michael calling out from upstairs: "Where are my Harry Hall trousers, mother?" She replied that they were at the cleaners which made him a little annoyed - p78

Michael once decided to build a model aeroplane and Mrs Hawthorn made him cover up the table in the sitting room to construct it on. Mrs Hawthorn was chuntering on about his model for several days to Mum as she said Michael did not have enough time to do it. After about a week he went away racing. Mrs Hawthorn threatened to throw it in the dustbin while he was away. When Mum got there the next morning Mrs Hawthorn said: "Come and see what Michael has done!" On the table was a large note: 'MRS.T TAKE NO NOTICE OF MY MOTHER MOVE THIS AT YOUR PERIL' - P78

Michael, unless he had an early appointment, rarely surfaced in the mornings until Mrs Hawthorn had left the house which meant he was never up before 9am - p78

One morning mum was in the kitchen at about 9:30am when she heard Michael call out, "Mrs Taylor!" She went into the hallway and he was at the top of the stairs holding up a shirt, yelling that it had a button missing, and would Mum sew one on? This caused her a bit of panic - she told him she didn't know if there was any needle and thread and she didn't want to poke around in any cupboards or drawers that she was not supposed to. Did he know where they might be? His casual reply was 'I haven't got a clue but that's all right, there is bound to be something down there' and with that, Michael chucked the shirt down over the banister. Mum caught it and spent a frantic few minutes searching for a needle, muttering to herself that 'he has got dozens of flipping shirts but he choose one with a button off' Mum got it sorted and, as she put it, took the shirt upstairs to 'his nibs' He grinned, simply saying 'Thank You - I told you the stuff was down there.' - p78

Michael collected old tobacco pipes, often using them himself - p79

Dad caught me down the garden shed puffing away on some pencil shavings and butt ends I had collected! When I joined the TT Garage they thought it would be a good idea to give the pipe to Mr Hawthorn and so remove the temptation. I duly gave the pipe to Mr Hawthorn and he was very pleased. The next morning he saw Mum and said, 'Thank you - was it okay, Brian giving the pipe away?' He thought it was funny when she told him the old man caught me spluttering away on it in the shed - p79

Mum also remembers Mrs Hawthorn always going on about Michael being untidy, but mum said it was water off a duck's back. One thing that used to get Mrs Hawthorn ticking was Michael's liberal use of Yardley's talcum powder when he got ready in the morning. Mum said there was always a trail of footprints from the bathroom to his room. Mum used to go and clean it all up and tidy his room, as he used to hand his clothes on the floor - p80

Mike had decided after retiring that he wanted to get into air racing, but died before he could achieve this ambition - p81

Michael's dog, Grogger, used to follow Mum home quite often, and whenever he used to escape he would go to our home - she would often hear Grogger scratching at the door. Mrs Hawthorn and Michael never used to worry about what had happened to him. They knew where he would be - with us! - p82

Mrs Hawthorn later told Mrs Taylor, her 'daily', that Mike had come into her bedroom that night. He was in tears and sat on her bed holding Grogger's lead. '"What have I done, mother! My lovely Grogger is gone," he said and was inconsolable for a while - p83

Mike also become highly popular with the mechanics "who loved him" according to Lofty. Even (Sir) William Lyons had what can only be termed a soft spot for him - p114

To be sure, the incident was triggered by Hawthorn coming in for his first refuelling stop. This was not a sudden decision on his part but was fully planned in accordance with Jaguar refuelling procedure at Le Mans: on three previous laps he had been given the signals "Fuel 3 laps" "Fuel 2 laps" and finally "Fuel in". This sequence has been misunderstood by some, including Mercedes-Benz, at the time, the assumption being that Mike was ignoring me missing some of his 'in' signals - p122

To summarise, it shows clearly that Hawthorn's move to the right hand side of the track was measured and far from sudden in the context of motor racing and the track positions of the D-type and the Austin-Healey. Macklin - probably concentrating on his rear view mirror - seemingly failed to see what was a routine pit stop manoeuvre - p126

I noticed a sign go up in the jaguar pit after approximately 2 hours of racing, the sign had a number 6 inscribed thereon and arrow pointing outwards. Next lap around the sign was still up but the arrow was reversed, which, obviously, was informing Mr. Hawthorn and the no. 6 jaguar to pit on the next lap. I stood up set up my camera and prepared to photograph the Jaguar in the pits. In less than four minutes I observed the jaguar far down the straight. I noticed two silver cars and it was immediately apparent that Hawthorn was lapping one of the Mercedes. Shortly after passing the slight bend in the straight Hawthorn pass Macklin in the Austin heavy "100.S" he was still 300 to 400 yd from his pit. Hawthorn moved from the outer lane to the inner lane and was some 60 to 80 yd in front of the Austin Healey when he started to decelerate. The Austin Healey started to close on the jaguar and they were in the same lane. Suddenly Macklin in the A.H. realised the jaguar was slowing. He was about 20 yd to the rear of the jaguar when he evidently realised the situation. Mr. Macklin had a choice, hit the rear of the jaguar, or swing out and pass. He swung out very quickly and directly in front of the on-rushing Mercedes, with Mr. Levegh driving. When the A.H. moved out he was approximately 20 yd in front of the Mercedes. I imagine that the Mercedes speed was at least 40 miles per hour faster than the A.H. levengh had time to swing the Mercedes outwards a slight amount before hitting the left rear of the Austin Healey. The right front of the Mercedes rode over the left wheel of the rear of the A.H. causing the Mercedes to deflect and strike the retaining wall in a nose up position. Striking the wall in this attitude caused the car to break in two parts. The front half going through the spectators, the aft section remaining on the wall. Basically, Hawthorn committed no errors. His driving at that time was exactly identical to all of the other higher speed cars when they prepared to pit. Directly after the accident, I sat down and took notes on what I observed. I read these notes to at least 12 people in the grandstands. Except for very minor details they agreed by observations. I attempted to be quite correct to my observations as 4 years prior to my present assignment I was an aircraft accident investigator for the U.S.A.F. Those four years taught me how incorrect and how varying eyewitnesses can be! I have also done a bit of race and sports car racing stateside. In conclusion, in no way should Mr Hawthorn or his pit crew be held, even remotely, responsible for the accident at Le Mans 1955 - p128

The next year shortly before the start, I learned that a memorial to those killed the previous year was to be unveiled opposite the pits. Thus if there had been any major (or any) anti-Hawthorn feeling among the relatives of those killed there could have been a demonstration against Mike. There was nothing. If there had been I intended to withdrawl all three Jaguars there and then. - p132

Both Sir Williams Lyons (who was knighted in 1956) and race team manager Lofty England regarded hin almost as an adopted son - in Sir Williams case, a replacement for his own son (also called John Michael), killed on the way to Le Mans in 1955, in the case of Lofty as perhaps the son he never had - p139

For the last bends, Hawthorn was there all the time watching me, and we had a job doing it - I think Mike was worried that we'd set the car on fire - p140

In the Lancia he would bait the local police by driving past them at night and giving the two figured salute, encourage them to give chase - p148

There was a set of traffic lights in Farnham at the bottom of a hill on the way to school. I remember Michael stopping there once and another car pulled up alongside us. Michael obviously knew the other driver and that he was indicating he'd like to race Michael away from the lights and up the hill! Michael didn't though and I assume that was because I was in the car (the daugher of one of Mike's employees who Mike gave lifts to school)- p148

It needed testing several times during the operation. Bill eventually said: "take Brian this time." Michael muttered something along the lines of "Bloody nuisance again" We went down the Guildford road, turning onto the Farnham bypass, then overtook a couple of cars. There was a Premix concrete lorry way ahead of us and I could see traffic coming the other way - he howled down the bypass and I remember the Premix lorry rapidly looming up and thinking that he was going to break any second. Wrong! I do not think he even lifted his foot: VDU did not seem to steer round the lorry, it flicked out and back in again, and I was aware of traffic flashing past coming the other way. I had heard it said that he could make that car breathe in to get it through a gap and that experience convinced me that they were right. He stopped at the traffic lights, went access and turned around about half a mile later by Weydon Lane and came back up across the lights, screaming back up the bypass, I was hanging on ready for the top left hand bend that was looming. Wrong again!!! There was a blur of hands and feet, down through the gears, then down the little single track chute road that formed a short cut between the top bend and the junction. This little road was used frequently by people coming off of the bypass to avoid the junction and just went down by the Shepherd and Flock. It was quite a sharp drop with a left hand bend at the bottom and it felt as though we were airborne for a bit. We got back to the garage, and Michael never said a word from start to finish - p149

Mike had calmed down somewhat after he won the World Championship, and was less wild on public roads - p150

Mike was a really nice person. He was fun-loving, he was good to be with, he was kind, he was generous - p151

Mike expressed the view that marriage was not for the racing driver, the unspoken reason being that there could all too easily be a widow - p151

She (Winifred Mike's mother) used to call me 'that woman' If we were sitting in front of the fire having supper, she'd say to Mike 'Pass that woman the salt'. Mike never said anything, but one weekend he said, 'I've got a permanent room in this hotel.' (Mike's fiancé)- p153

We didn't go out to dinner, the two of us, very often because we'd either have supper at home, or we went to various venues, because he was very much on the scene at the time, and we were constantly being invited out. So we ate out a lot but not because he wanted to, but because it was all part of the scene at the time. He was very happy to sit at home and watch television and have meals on his knees - p154

Yes, Mike loved life, he loved beer, and he loved his whiskey chasers. But in my day, I never had any problems with him looking at other women, and he never got drunk - p154

He was a brilliant after-dinner speaker. He had the whole room in fits of laughter. He had wonderful jokes; he had a little diary, and he'd put down the first line and last line - that's how he remembered jokes. If he was asked to give a speech he was brilliant - p154

Mike was the sort of person who would be able to talk to the local dustman, or the King of England, and he would treat them the same. To him they were no different and he was charming to both - p154

His habit of replying to virtually all the letters he received, even from schoolboys asking somewhat naïve questions - p155

It was outside the Barley Mow that Mike ran over Grogger. Jean Ireland remembers how much this affected Mike. "He was absolutely mortified. It was dreadful - he was so distraught." - p155

Jean Ireland thinks that had Mike lived, they would have regularly flown across to France, as Mike was fond of wine and would have brought some back in the plane - p155

She thinks he might have indulged in a little bit of smuggling, as on the occasion when he won 100 bottles of champagne at Reims. "He flew them over, and landed the plane on a beach somewhere on the south coast, took the champagne out, hid it and flew on. I'm pretty sure that's what he did!" - p155

I think Mike must have thought I was not very wordly-wise, because he wrote me a little note, and it said: 'No. 1, passport, No. 2, ring Stirling, here's his number, No. 3 was something else...' he wrote all this down on a little piece of paper for me. I think he was just looking after me, which I thought was lovely. I still have that little piece of paper somewhere. - p156

Jean Jreland agrees that Peter was one of his closest friends, and the loss affected him deeply. It seems that Mike did not talk much to Jean about Peter's death - the hurt was probably too great - and another topic which he never raised, with her at least, was Le Mans 1955. "He was a bit like my Father. He was in the First World War but he never ever talked about it. And I think it was the same scenario. It was so horrendous that they just put it to the back of their minds." - p156/157

When he asked me to marry him, which was in the car going from London to Farnham as they passed Wisley Gardens, he said to me - and I was all of 21! - 'Have you got any skeletons in the cupboard?' And I said, 'No!' Then he told me he'd got a son in France, so I suppose he was wondering what I'd got hidden!" - p157

Mike didn't splash out on things. He wasn't a man that needed the trappings of life - p157

Jean Ireland is convinced that Mike crashed because he had a blackout. "He was ill. He knew that road backwards. He wasn't racing Rob Walker as people say he was; it's absolute rubbish - he didn't do things like that. He never frightened me. I think he had a blackout. He never let anybody know because he wouldn't be able to race. He used to be in a lot of pain. I saw him on the floor in absolute agony at times." - p158

We were supposed to be getting married in June. He'd just been to ask my father if he could marry me, and that weekend he was going to France to sort out the arrangements with this girl who had his son - p158

He only had five years to live and his doctor told me he would have been in a wheelchair. He would have been impossible in a wheelchair, so in a way it was perhaps better that Mike went that way. - p159

He was kissing me goodnight once night and his pipe just broke! He was so upset! He had stuck it in his top pocket and it just broke - p160

There was a possibility of Stirling Moss driving alongside Mike in the 1956 Jaguar works team, but while Mike was happy to operate as joint number one, Moss was not, so it came to nothing - p181

He passengered Phil Hill in a Fiat 1100; the American drove so gently on the poorly surfaced roads that Mike fell asleep! - p193

Says Jean Ireland, who spoke to him that morning on the telephone, "He didn't want to go to London, because he wasn't feeling very well. There was a settle in the porch and he sat there and didn't want to go to London that day, and he was late leaving. He was just ill..." - p202

On the morning of the accident Michael came downstairs from his room at the cottage dresse in his usual suit then, usually, sat on the chaise lounge at the bottom of the stairs for some few minutes, holding his head in his hands. This was something he had never done before. The Hawthorn's always treated my mother very well and in turn she was extremely loyal, honest and very deferential. She did not dream of what she would consider stepping out of line and so did not dare ask if anything was wrong, although she did ask if he wanted a cup of tea, to which he replied 'No thank you." After a period he got up, calling out to my mother, "I am off now Mrs T - see you tomorrow!" - p202

Her one big regret is that she did not ask him if he was OK, as she had noticed that he looked extremely pale. I also noticed how pale he was when he arrived at the garage and came round the workshop - p202

The jaguar came alongside and I saw it was Mike Hawthorn. He waved to me and we both accelerated as hard as we could alongside each other - p203

Walker reached the Jaguar first. "I ran across the road thinking to go up to him and say, 'That was a bloody silly thing to do, Mike,' and I looked in the car and he wasn't in the driving seat. Then I walked round the car and I saw him lying full length in the back seat, just as if he'd got in the back seat to have a kip. His eyes were open and I saw a trickle of blood coming from the back (of his head); then as I looked down at him, his eyes suddenly glazed and I realised he was gone." - p208

"Hawthorn was barely breathing. He had no pulse. He was deeply unconscious. He possibly breathed twice, but it was too late to do anything." In fact Mike's skull had been fractured and the autopsy would show that fragments of bone had been driven into his brain - p208

I knew Michael and his family quite well from July 1951. After Les Hawthorn was killed, we became quite close. Often we would agree to meet in the local radio shop. We were both keen on a certain type of radio, and would stop and have a cup of tea and a chat. Equally I would invite him to my house for dinner. I can always remember him as a big eater and not a particularly big drinker - p213

Michael can only be described as a perfect gentleman. The manner in which he conducted himself at my house was always impeccable. Polite and courteous were some of his attributes, although occasionally he could be a little boyish in his antics. I remember one formal police dinner dance we invited him to, he brought along one of those 'whoopee' cushions. He certainly knew how to laugh! - p213

The first of Mike's personal friends to reach the scene was Duncan Hamilton; he happened to be in the area while on his way to London, where he was to meet Mike, he had stopped off at a friend's house when a call came through with the news a Jaguar with a VDU registration had crashed on the Guildford bypass. He drove straight to the spot and claimed to have found Mike still in the car. He later also claimed he was there in less than five minutes - so quickly, in fact, that he helped the police remove Mike's body from the wrecked car - p215

Duncan later formally identified Mike at Guildford Mortuary, following an arrangement previously made by the two friends to save their immediate family from the distress of carrying out this task should either get killed - p215

John says that Mike was really good to work with. He recalls on one occasion having trouble driving Peter Collins big Ferrari which was having a disc breaks fitted. It had a racing clutch and was difficult to get off the line. "I'll show you how to drive it," said Mike, who without any sarcasm went on to explain to John. - p224

Jean Ireland, his then fiance, is "Absolutely convinced" that the accident occurred because Mike lost consciousness. She feels that there is no other reason why he lost control of a car he was so adept at driving and on a road which, as she says, "he knew like the back of his hand." Norman Dewis also thinks that "there could have been more to it than just the car and the conditions. Very few people knew about these blackouts but Lofty told me about them. I knew that Mike had a health problem and maybe had five years to live. But what I didn't know was that he'd already had three blackouts." - p227

Some eyewitnesses of the accident reported that Mike was struggling to keep control - p227

It got to opposite the new showrooms and the stopped. The driver's gullwing door opened and an arm came out with two fingers stuck up in the time honoured salute. The door then shut and it made smartly off, taking the righthand fork down the Guildford road about 300 yards away from the garage. A very short time later, and it must have been only two minutes or so, JMH came running out, holding an unbuttoned jacket of his suit to stop it flapping about. He leapt into VDU 881, which was always left on the forecourt in first gear with the handbrake off, and screamed off like a rocket in the same direction as Rob Walker had gone. - p228

It happened all the time with people we knew. And the two fingers from friends was not regarded as an insult in those days. We all did it. It was just a friendly gesture, a greeting - p229

Mike's 86 year old grandmother Kate, very ill with a heart condition, was gently made aware of Mike's death. She had been one of Mike's keenest fans and always followed reports of his races. As she read of each event she would say, 'Thank goodness he is safe.' Only a fortnight before, Mike had visited her and spent much time sitting with her, recounting his races and how proud he was of having lunch with The Queen that previous November - p231

Mrs Hawthorn tried to remove all traces of Michael as quickly as possible. She gave certain of his possessions away to his friends and destroyed all of his personal possessions from the cottage. She burnt all his clothes and many other items one evening - p231

I interviewed Mike for the newspaper back then and wrote, in a topical reference, he was probably the only man who had met both Ruth Ellis (the last woman to be hanged in Britian) and Princess Margaret. This so incensed the Hawthorn family that all Tourist Garage advertising was withdrawn from the newspaper - p232

Mrs H commented to mum the next day that it was not her Michael in the coffin, it was the public's Mike. Mrs Hawthorn was an intensely private person and had wanted a very private funeral - p236

Mike Hawthorn was planning to branch out as a novelist before his death - p239

Mr Flower said that he had last spoken to Mike about the books on Sunday of last week, when they had met by accident at Frensham Pond, were Mike was exercising his dog. 'He said he was very pleased with them' said Mr Flower, 'And so am I. I think the children are going to like them' - p239

The 25 year-old Dorrie was working at a Streatham, South London garage at the time waiting on customers, as was the custom then, for their water, oil and petrol. Her girl companion worker was a bit of a celebrity chaser but Dorrie was much more reserved. However, when Mike Hawthorn arrived on the forecourt one day and got out of his car, Dorrie decided this one was hers and resolved to stop her companion heading for him as they both ran to the door- so trod on her foot which stopped her in her tracks! Dorrie, having filled his car with a very small amount of petrol, found there wasn't a lot else to do and she wondered why he had come in at all? On asking Mike asked her out for a drink after work. But Dorrie never ever went out with her customers, told him so rather icily but politely and retired to the office muttering to herself (and to other garage staff who had witnessed the whole event) a few choice words regarding men who thought they owned you just because they were famous, blonde and six foot three... Her companion told her "You've blown it" and even Dorrie was by now thinking she'd been a bit hasty.... But the next day Mike was back. Dorrie, now on her own, made a sarcastic remark to him about having used up all the petrol from the day before. Mike said that he was not really a customer as he didn't want to buy anything and would she reconsider her reply to his invitation! It turned out that he had passed by the forecourt previously on his alternative route home from London to Farnham and had seen her there and he had now come along to check if she was the little girl he remembered meeting at Brooklands when he was eight years old, saying she had been with two tall men and a blonde boy (her brother). Dorrie knew this was actually true she had gone to Brooklands as a child to see her stat John Cobb. Mike then described the blue dress she had been wearing, made by her grandmother in a vain attempt to make her look like Shirley Temple, a child star of the time! At that time Dorrie couldn't remember actually meeting Mike at Brooklands but her uncle later confirmed the story. So Dorrie accepted the invitation, taking a drink with Mike after she finished work that same evening. Dorrie says she has never regretted the association with Mike that followed these initial incidents and during their time together, Mike commissioned a studio portrait of Dorrie. Even after they had gone their separate ways, he would occasionally ring her just to see how she was and they remained good friends. She says Mike was far removed from being the spoilt young man she had assumed him to be when they first met. After his 1958 World Championship win at Casablanca, Dorrie was surprised to receive a small package in the post. This contained a piece of jewellery from Mike in the form of a silver sheathed scimitar along with a card bearing the words 'For always believing in me' which she has kept to this day. Dorrie is a regular attender at events connected with Mike - p272

Nixon heard rumours about an illegitimate son and in 1988 tracked the mother down. She was Jacqueline Delaunay and had 'encountered' Mike when he had visited Reims for the 1953 French GP - p279

There was, however, minimal contact thereafter between Mike and Jacqueline, though he gave her some financial support and Nixon records that Arnaud remembers being given a ride in the 3.4 litre Jaguar Mike was using when the French boy and his mother visited England in 1958 - p279

In 1975, his mother Jacqueline was killed after being struck by a motorcycle. At this point, someone else who knew about Arnald came into the picture. This was Lofty England. Perhaps because Lofty never had a son and perhaps because Mike had lost his own father, the two had become close friends - p279/280

#this book has so much information #and this post is a bit all over the place #but i hope you enjoy for funny stories about mike and his home life #and information on him in general #classic f1 #f1 #formula one #formula 1 #vintage f1 #mike hawthorn

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dandyshucks-moving · 1 year ago

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hiya hello!!! I'm Dandy/Juno, 22, they/it pronouns, Métis, and this is my silly little sideblog (main blog is @dandyghest and also @piplupod) where I have a little silly fun rbing/talking about F/Os!! I'm pretty new to the community but I've been self-shipping since I was a kid!

I am a very hesitant and anxious person, but I love interacting with others when I feel like I'm able to!! I might be a little slow to step into interacting w the community fully until I learn the ropes of how the community works but I'm dipping my toes in when I'm able to :]

I'm totally fine with sharing F/Os except for Guzma (if you tag all your posts abt him then you're a-okay to follow since I can just block the tag)! Feel free to block me if I accidentally miss that we share an F/O you don't want shared! (Just make sure you block my main account(s) too so I don't get confused LOL)

there might be (very rare) occasional suggestive posts, but those will be tagged accordingly! anything Actually nsfw will be over at @scandydandyshucks (18+ only over there!).

People who ship pedophilic or incestual pairings and people who write/draw porn of children will be blocked, I have zero tolerance for any of that ! Also, the "fiction doesn't affect reality" crowd is strictly NOT welcome here !

If you ever see me reblog from someone nasty, please let me know! I follow a lot of the community tags and have as many proship tags blocked as I can to catch any bs, and I also try to check the blogs before I rb from the general community tags, but sometimes I may miss things! Just lmk and I'll go look and delete it!

F/O list under the cut !!

F/O list:

Main F/O:

Guzma (pokemon) (tag: "💜so good at being in trouble", ship tag: "💜a boy and his bug🪲") <- if you share him, just let me know what you have all your guzma-related posts tagged with and i'll just block that tag and then I'll be okay to follow back! ദി ᷇ᵕ ᷆ )♡

Other F/Os (in no particular order):

Aizawa and Hizashi (bnha) (tags: "🖤napping in class" and "🧡hello radio land!", ship tag: "🖤one lucky listener🧡")

Marc, Steven, Jake (moonknight) (tags: "🤍white knight", "🤎float like a butterfly sting like a bee", "🩶the man in the rearview mirror", ship tag: "🌙systems overlapping🪲")

Sun and Moon (fnaf) (QPP?) (tags: "💛lights on!" and "💙nightlight")

The Doctor (doctor who) (tag: "💓doctor doctor gimme the news")

Rum Tum Tugger and Mistoffelees (cats the musical) (tags: "🤎only like what I find for myself" and "🐈‍⬛never was there a cat so clever")

Aziraphale and Crowley (good omens) (tags: "💞oh my angel" and "❤️‍🔥never (not) nice", ship tag: "💞temptation sparks❤️‍🔥")

general F/O posts are tagged with 💗

❤️ is for general vampire posts!

art tag: "dandy doodlebugs"

op tag: "dandyshucks"

#pinned #dandyshucks #dandy doodlebugs

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gillybear17 · 1 year ago

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It’s been almost 2 years without you! I can’t find the words to describe how much I miss you! I know you’re in heaven but I wish I could have one more day with you. To feel your kisses one more time. To cuddle with you one more time. To hear you meow one more time. To hear you purr one more time. The missing piece of my heart will always be there it will never be filled again. I know we’ll meet again someday until than I love you doodlebug. Ready easy 🐱🪽

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straightboyfriend2 · 1 year ago

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Oh how I miss you my little Doodlebug. Love you everyday honey

Very sad update today. My little honey Doodle passed away in my arms today. She was very sick and the vet didn't quite know what was going on. She's not suffering anymore, but I'm gonna miss my funny little meat creature watching me in my room all the time. Love you honey

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kkshowtunes · 3 years ago

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i’m officer lockstock (past tense)

#the show’s over folks #i miss my cast #i miss lockstock #urinetown #officer lockstock #doodlebug says things

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biillyhargroves · 2 years ago

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it’s been a whole year. 365 days since i lost my soul dog. ozzy, ozzfest, doodlebug, my nasty boy, my favorite old man, my little demodog, i miss you more every day. thank you for letting me be your mom. we didn’t get enough time together. i love you so much.

#ozzy tag #lex.jpeg #tbd

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voidfloofart · 2 years ago

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i guess I'll spam some of my art here

first and second ones: a month ago a kitty visited my house but they just mowed at my window and were gone when I went outside. i probably got visited by an angel. i miss them. images are with and without the parchment overlay

Others: quick doodles of my ocs Doodlebug, Circean and Def

#my art #art #digital art #cat #my ocs #oc: doodlebug #oc: circean #oc: def

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buglife · 3 years ago

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Perhaps a meeting between Dadmaster and the White Lady?

“Do you think that they might be okay with taking students again?”

Mato thought for a moment, walking beside his child in the restored Royal Gardens. They were just enjoying the quiet sights for a while, when Ghost brought up the possibility of teaching nail arts to the guards and knights of the realm. The question was a surprising one, which for a moment worried the beetle that something may be going on that he wasn't being told about.

“They might be, why do you ask?” He leaned down to look Ghost in the eyes. “Are you worried about something?”

“I just...I can’t be everywhere at once, even as a god.” They admitted, averting their gaze as though ashamed of the fact. “I want my people to be protected, even If I can’t be there. I don’t need protecting, but they do.”

“Well, that’s a fine reason as any.” Mato answered with a reassuring tone to his voice, glad to hear that nothing nefarious was going on. It was just Ghost being Ghost, worried over everyone's safety again. “You indeed can’t be everywhere, and perhaps more people knowing the nail arts would be a boon to the kingdom.”

“I thought so too, but there’s only you, me, Uncle Oro and Sheo, and Grandpa Sly who know how to even teach it. I can’t teach everyone by myself.” They gestured to themselves and their current 'mortal' form. They were certainly not as large as their twin, Hollow, nore were they even tall enough to reach Mato's shoulder. Even being a god, they wouldn't be able to instantly teach a rather intensive and practice heavy technique like the nail arts. It would have to be done the old fashioned way with actual teaching. They were right, they couldn't do it all by themselves. They would need some help.

“Did you ask Sly about this?” Mato thoughtfully replied. “He was the one to teach us, after all. He’d be able to help you for sure.”

Ghost nodded their head. “I asked Grandpa Sly and he said, and I quote, “I trained enough kids, now I want to enjoy my goddamn retirement.”

“Then what did he say when you offered to pay him?” Mato crossed his arms and raised a brow, anticipating the answer.

“Where do I sign?” The void being snorted in amusement, shoulders shaking with the effort to not burst into outright laughter. Mato was not so reserved.

“HAHA! Of course that old miser would!” Mato bellowed a deep belly laugh and slapped Ghost so hard on the back it sent them stumbling a little. In the corner of his eye, he could see the posted guardsmen stiffen at the interaction. “To be honest, I think he also wants to be able to brag about being able to beat up knights and guardsmen all day without getting a treason charge.”

“That and I think Uncle Oro would be down with It too. He’s that kinda guy.” Ghost chirped, eyes now full of mirth. They didn’t seem to mind being bodily hauled around by their father, despite their status as a King. “He likes putting bugs who are a little too full of themselves back in their place, and I saw some of the new applicants. I think he’d do a lot of good here.”

Mato hummed in thought. Oro was very different from the rest of the brothers, and even Sly. He'd need special motivation and he wasn't always swayed by Geo. “What do you have in mind to get him out of his hovel and here in the city?”

“I think he wouldn’t mind if I offered to give him a private candy chef on call that I will employ.” They drummed their claws together, amused by their own cleverness. “I remember that he used to train me in exchange for honey I’d sneak out of the Hive. Imagine what he’d do for whatever sweets his heart desires that could be made on demand?”

“There’s my little tactician! That will get him for sure.” Mato beamed with pride, not like Ghost had to do much to get him to be proud of them to begin with. “Sheo I think might just be too busy with his husband right now for teaching beyond his art school.”

They nodded in response and smiled up at their father, who quickly reached down to give them a gentle noogie. They didn’t bother trying to escape and accepted their affection without so much of a flinch. Good. Mato released them after a chitin crushing hug and set them back on their feet.

“You know I’m proud of you, right?” He asked softly, deciding to voice the thoughts he was having. It was one thing to feel pride for someone, it was another to let them know that you thought as such.

Ghost nodded, a bit of gray coloring the shell that made up their face, nudging a few pebbles with a foot. “I know, thanks Dad.”

He was about to comment further when a little dragonfly suddenly dropped out of the air and pancaked into the cobble stones below them. Both Nailmaster and King leapt backwards from the sudden noise and movement, drawing their nails together in a smooth motion through instinct alone. Then, when nothing outright attacked them, they took a second look.

It was a messenger to be sure. The dragonfly was wearing a bag and a hat that denoted them as a member of the messenger corps. At first Mato thought that the bug was injured from the crash, but the amount of scrapes and cuts alone couldn’t have been caused by just hitting stone. They wearily reached up to hold out a hemo-stained letter, somewhat reeling from the hit they took, antenna bent and crooked.

“Messenger Stikks, reporting with an urgent message from Kingdom’s edge!” The dragonfly slurred, struggling to focus enough to hold the letter out straight. They closed one eye and narrowed the other, adjusting their grip so that the letter was actually in front of Ghost and not a few feet to the left. “Antlion larvae have dug in from the wastes and they are everywhere!”

Ghost took the letter and read it quickly. Then read it again. They finally put the paper down and sighed, all the humor they had merely seconds ago sucked out by the reality of their station.

“Something the matter, my child? Do you need help?” Mato had yet to release his grip on his great nail, moving the other hand to rest it on their shoulder in an act of comfot.

Ghost shook their head with a huff of annoyance. “This wouldn’t be a problem if the coliseum would have just left the larvae alone. The letter is from the head Fool, apparently they caught a few, which then escaped, and now is tunneling under the arena and is causing sections to collapse on itself. They are requesting aid from me as per our treaty.”

“Well, they are called Fools for a reason.” Mato could only shrug at that. “Even I wouldn’t mess with a doodlebug.”

“...A what?”

“Just a nickname for them.” Mato bent over and picked up the dragonfly. “You alright son?” He looked the bug over. They were kind of smooshed and bent up, but it seemed like they’d be okay after getting some medical attention.

“Aye aye, sir!” The dragonfly saluted and missed, causing them to punch themselves in the head with a CRACK.

Mato was then holding a completely unconscious bug. He winced and waved over a guard, handing the poor bug over to be taken to the nearest doctor. Ghost was trying to not laugh, obviously feeling bad for the poor bug, but Mato had to admit it was kind of funny.

“You sure you don’t need help, Ghost?” Mato asked again, once the guard and dragonfly were gone. He focused hard with his dad powers to determine if Ghost was going to tell the truth. God King or not, they were still his kid and he’d be damned if he let them run off and get themselves hurt.

They shook their head. “No Dad, I will be fine. I’ll just have to pull out the larvae and then set them loose out in the wastes. Nobody else has to get hurt today.”

He nodded. “As long as you’ll be okay. I trust you to know your own limits.”

“I will.” They tilted their head up in a smile. “Feel free to wander around for a bit, I’ll be back soon and we can meet up with Quirrel and Hollow later for dinner.”

“Sounds good to me, come back safe.” He gave them a short hug and a pat to the back.

They nodded and stepped back, suddenly dissolving into liquified void, seeping into the stonework and vanishing from view. It was a very blink and you miss it type action for sure. Teleporting was different from bug to bug, but Ghost sure did know how to make and exit when they needed to make one quick. Soon the last bits of excess void evaporated and not a single trace was left behind that the King was even standing there. Well, with nothing else to do but wait, he decided to take their advice and take a look around. After the palace was built over top of the old one, the gardens were also revitalized. A lot of work had been put into the place and once things were green and blooming again, it was opened up for the public. It was fairly peaceful and offered a lot of nice spots to simply sit and reflect should one want to.

He decided that perhaps the best thing to do was to find such a spot and meditate for a while. Ghost had given him quite a bit of information to consider. The idea of teaching the nail arts to the next generation of warriors was a interesting one and he wasn’t quite sure how to implement such an ambitious plan. Perhaps a school would have to be made. He’d have to talk to his own father and brothers as well about it. Perhaps a solution would come to him once he emptied his mind for a while.

He walked around gardens, looking for a quiet spot for Ghost to find him later, when he was stopped by a sight that made him question his vision. He blinked a few times to clear his eyes, but he still saw the same figure that used to be everywhere before the infection began.

The White Lady sat on a stone bench, idlily watering a patch of flowers using a simple watering can. Mato could see no finery on her or any mark of a station beyond a civilian on her person. She was dressed simply in white robes, the roots on her head curled up and branching outwards in a mess of tiny white leaves and petals. She didn’t seem to notice him, giving the flowers on the ground a drink as she hummed to herself, her eyes closed in either thought or contentment.

To be honest, it Mato didn’t quite know what to think at first. Most of the citizens of Hallownest gave little thought to their previous Queen. Before Hollow was even locked into the temple, she had fled her people and her home to wall herself within her personal gardens, taking one of the great knights with her. When it was clear that Hollow wasn’t going to be able to hold back the wrath of the Radiance, the King also fled, abandoning the kingdom to their fate. Most remembered this, and cared little about the fates of the rulers who vanished during the kingdom’s darkest hour, leaving the common bug to fend for themselves with no leadership and no help.

They weren’t remembered fondly, regulated to history books and a cautionary tales of pride and cowardice.

It was only years of training that kept him from fully succumbing to rage. How dare she! How dare she sit here all pretty in the palace gardens, like she never allowed the king to murder their own children and abandoned every bug that looked up to her when things didn’t work out perfectly? The same lady who annexed an entire section of another people’s land for her own personal gardens? The same Lady that sat a scant few meters away from the home of those she most hurt?

And why was she here? From what he understood, Ghost did not like her one bit. Even gentle and sweet Hollow only recalled moments with her to be painful and refused to further elaborate on the matter. He got most of the story from Ghost, and what he heard made him livid. He often wondered what he would say to the former king and queen should he meet them again, and now he was being presented with such an opportunity.

He took a few deep breaths. As far as he knew, she was no longer his Queen nor any sort of authority over him anymore. He would get a few answers, no, he demanded them.

He approached her, no longer masking the noise of his movements as his boots crunched a few discarded dead leaves. She paused in her humming and turned her face to fix her startling blue eyes on him. Mato stared back, unafraid and resolute. She balked slightly from the force of his stare, but composed herself by sitting up and gently smiling down on him.

“Hello.” She said, her voice soft and whispery, like a breeze through the leaves of a willow tree. “How can I help you?”

“What are you doing here.” Mato demanded. The question was short and very much to the point.

“Me? Well, my child-”

“They are not your child.” Mato hissed, cutting off her words with an enraged snarl. “You don’t get to call them that, not after what you and the pale bastard did to them!”

She seemed taken aback for a moment, narrowing her eyes as her roots shuddered, before she seemed to slump into herself. She turned her head away for a moment, taking in an audible breath as she turned it back to glance back at the Nailmaster. “You act as if I don’t regret what we were forced to do.”

“You always had a choice.” Mato countered. “You could have done anything other than let thousands of your children lay dead at the bottom of the abyss. Have you even gone down there to see them? Offer some sort of rites like any parent would do for their deceased children?”

“It does not matter, Ghost has-”

“King Ghost.” He once again corrected her. Only family got to refer to them by their name alone and fiercely guarded such a privilege. Especially since they had to pick their own name. The Lady and the King didn't even feel it fitting to give them something as simple as a name.

“Yes." She sighed, "King Ghost has informed me that their siblings besides Hollow now reside within the void... at rest, which is now a part of them. Empty rites and platitudes will not bring them back, nor erase what I have...what we have done.”

Mato stared at her for a moment, scanning her face and body for any hint of lies or manipulation. To his surprise, he found none, just an old woman who was full of regrets.

“Then why are you here?” He finally spoke and crossed his arms in front of him. “My child obviously knows that you are here, why let you in? You told them to kill their own sibling and take their place in a plan that already failed, just to hold the mad goddess at bay for a scant few more years while you could still hide in the Gardens and play pretend. Why?” He could barely keep the fury from his voice as he spoke. He could see her flinch with each accusation, her eyes blurring with what might be tears, he couldn’t be sure. All he knew was that was he was saying was impacting her in some way, and he was happy for that at least.

She was silent for a moment, the roots and branches that made up her head curling in on themselves and shuddering slightly. A few leaves and petals dropped to the stones below and rapidly lost their otherworldly shimmer. “I don’t know, to be honest.”

Mato narrowed his eyes behind the hard shell of his mask. “You gottah be shitting me.”

“I speak the truth.” She shifted in her seat so she could face him fully. “All I know, is that one day, King Ghost arrived where I have made my exile. They commanded me to unroot myself. I could sense the brand on them, the pieces of my husband and I that made them, and the spark of a higher power, so I obeyed. It took time to unroot myself, but once I did they commanded me to unbind myself and to come with them.” She paused a moment to look up, as thought remembering a feeling or a snippet of a memory. “I had diminished myself, made myself weak. I could no longer see, so they commanded that I reside here to recover. I did so, and when I saw them for the first time I was astonished and humbled. I had believed that perhaps that they would take revenge and have me executed or banish me to the wastes, but... they did not. Instead, they told me that I will do what I was meant to do and I was not permitted to run away again.”

Mato was silent, listening as the White Lady spoke, watching her face as it went through a range of emotions. Regret, bitterness, elation, joy, shame...all flickered through her pale face and shimmering eyes.

“My sentence was to bring life back to the kingdom, as it was my duty long before the Pale Wyrm even chose Hallownest to rebirth himself in. I would, as they put it, ‘have to clean up my mess’ and I have been doing as such.”

“I did notice everything get greener.” Mato muttered. He had noticed the yields from the farms were also quite abundant and rich. The kingdom should have gone through a period of famine as they rebuilt, but there was food. Nothing refined at the beginning, but nobody went hungry. “Was that you?”

She nodded, serene as she put her watering can to the side. She lifted one of her roots from the ground, leaving a neat little hole that she dropped a single seed into. “Yes, I am a goddess of life and fertility, it brings me joy to know that life has begun anew.”

“Are you a prisoner here, then?” He looked, but saw no chains, no shackles, and not even the delicate weave of spells or magic. Nothing that could force her to stay here.

“Goodness no.” She shook her head, eyes curled up in slight amusement. “There is not a place I could run that my ch….my king could not find me. Nore do I expect that they are such a god to begin with. I am here as they said, to clean up my own mess. Nothing more, and nothing less. I have been given my own home here.” She gestured to a cottage nestled in among the trees, just barely out of sight, most likely for her own privacy. “I have no need to leave, nore am I under duress. I simply am.”

Mato’s rage was beginning to cool somewhat. From what he understood, his child had decided to grow beyond the pettiness and childish ways of the former higher powers, and instead, enact rather wise and mature decisions. With a start, he realized that he may have had a hand in that decision. He thought back to a moment, a scant couple years ago when rebuilding hasn’t even started yet.

“Dad?” Ghost asked. They had just had their first molt, resting their now slightly bigger body against their twin sibling. Hollow was in bed, their head and body haven just gotten new fresh bandages. It had been only a bare few months after the death of the Radiance, and Ghost had had some time to sit and think about their situation.

Of course both of the void siblings were a mess after the final battle, and Mato had commandeered an empty home in Dirtmouth to care for them both. Herrah had awoken from her slumber and was there to care for Hornet, but she had Deepnest to restore. Hornet jumped back and forth between both homes, bringing honey from the Hive and silken bandages in the effort to bring Hollow back to some semblance of wellness.

“Yes, my child?” Mato had adopted Hollow instantly, the poor injured bug still was very much a child despite being the tallest bug they’ve ever seen. He coaxed Hollow into opening their mouth and letting him stick another spoonful of light broth inside. He patted them gently when they did, helping them get ready for the next spoonful.

“How did you learn to forgive Uncle Oro?” Ghost was staring at their new set of arms, clenching and unclenching their hands. They tripped over their new telepathy a few times, but they were able to be understood. Mato stayed steady enough to get another spoon of sustenance in his largest child, but was quite surprised by the question.

“That’s quite a question, Ghost. What suddenly brought this on?”

Ghost was silent for a few moments and Mato gave them time to get their thoughts together. Hollow tried a chirp of encouragement, but Mato tapped them on the snoot. No chirping, only soup for the moment. They harrumphed and took another spoonful, which earned them a nice rub to sooth the healing cracks in their face.

“Uncle Oro hurt you and Uncle Sheo, really bad.” Ghost started. “But now, you are all okay again. How did that happen? What do you do when someone hurts you, but you don’t want to be hurt by them anymore?”

Ah, there it was. No doubt this had something to do with the sibling’s awful, awful parents. He didn’t want to accidentally poison his child with his own bad memories, nor the awfulness of why the situation actually happened in the first place. Instead, he decided to be completely honest.

“Well, Sheo and I were hurt, yes. We took space for ourselves to sort out our feelings. By then, the infection was in full swing and we didn’t know how the other was doing. When you let us know that all three of us were still alive, that’s when we knew there was a chance.”

Ghost looked up, tilting their head backwards so they didn’t have to get up from where they where lounging. “A chance?”

“Yes, the only time a chance to fix something between someone is gone, is when they are gone themselves. When we realized that we were all still alive, I knew that a chance still existed to get my brothers back.”

Ghost nodded, listening closely. Hollow subtly curved their head to listen as well, and Mato suddenly found himself with the full undivided attention of two children. He would have to choose his words carefully

“So, a few weeks ago, we both went to see Oro, and we talked. We talked about how we hurt each other. We talked about how we were sorry. We talked about how we can improve ourselves and move on. In the end, we decided to give each other a chance again, at least for one last time. Obviously, Oro wanted to be back with us again, because we worked it all out. We missed each other a lot, so I found that we could forgive each other and start again.”

“Uncle Oro is still really grumpy though…” Ghost added as an after thought.

“Oro was always a grumpy little bastard, that hasn’t changed.” Mato laughed. “ What changed however, is that we realized what we all did to cause the problem in the first place, and apologized. Now it’s just letting time go by to heal the wounds and give everyone a fresh chance again.”

“That’s it? Just time and a chance?” Ghost tilted their head to the side, eye’s narrow as they did their best to grasp the concept. Hollow moved their head just enough to give their smaller sibling a nuzzle. Ghost sighed and shifted so that they could hug Hollow back with nuzzle of their own, melting into the cuddle pile.

“If you think they are worthy of a second chance, than yeah. If not, than don’t give them a third.” Mato stopped assaulting Hollow with soup for the moment, letting them have a bit of a break for a cuddle. He took the time to look over the bandaged socket where their left arm used to be. He’ll have to ask Sheo and Smith if they could do something about that. "It's up to you to even consider giving that chance. If you don't want to, nobody is going to blame you for that. It's your decision alone and nobody can force you to do otherwise." He waggled the spoon at Ghost to further get his point across, as well as a subtle unspoken 'I will beat anyone who tells you otherwise with this spoon'.

“Thanks, Father.” Ghost looked up, eyes shining with resolve. “I think I know what to do now.

“They are giving you a second chance.” Mato spoke aloud once he finished with his memory, startling the White Lady with the suddenness of his voice.

“I’m afraid I don’t..” She looked confused by it all, looking Mato up and down as though he suddenly went crazy.

“They are giving you a second chance to be in their life. Both theirs and Hollows.” Mato’s voice took on a hard edge again as he pointed to her. “They are deciding if you are going to hurt them again, as they are not going to give you a third chance.”

“You mean...they’d want me to be…” her eyes widened and glistened with moisture, speaking some delicate hope that still resided within her. Mato knew he could never understand her particular pain, nore did he feel like she even deserved to have that hope after all this time, but that was not his decision to make.

“I don’t think they want you as their mother.” Mato took no joy over crushing that bit of hope, but she needed to know the truth. “After all this time, I don’t think they can let you be that intimate with them, at least for a very long time. Of course I’m speaking of Ghost, not Hollow. But for Ghost, I would shoot for just being a friend, someone they can trust again. Maybe it can evolve into something else besides that, but who knows what the future can hold."

"It is clear that you do not like me, or approve of my presence here at all. So why tell me this?" She bent her head down to regard Mato as though searching for the punchline to a cruel joke.

"Because it's the truth, and yes, I don't like you one bit, but the ones Ghost choose to be in their life is not up to me. If they want to give you a chance along with Hollow, than so be it. It's their life, not mine. BUT..." He stopped slouching and pulled himself up to his full height. "If you hurt them again, either of them, I will make you regret that. Do you understand?"

She nodded. "I do."

"Good, then we have nothing more to discuss." He turned on his heel and left, not even giving her a wayward glance as he left her behind. He could have dragged more answers from her for sure. Even if they only needed one vessel for the plan, they could have taking in the 'rejected' ones and cared for them. Was she even there when the selection was taken place? Did she also leave Ghost to fell back into the abyss, never to see light again for years, maybe decades? Too many questions, and he doubted he'd get satisfying answers to any of them. Perhaps for now, it was best to let it go. Ghost or Hollow will bring it up on their own time and he would do what he always did, be there when they needed it. He loved them, even if it was later in their lives than he wanted it to be.

He wished he could have been there from the beginning. How different would they have turned out if he could have scooped them up at their hatching and carried them away to raise and love? All of them, not just those two, every single cracked shell in the abyss belonged to an individual child. He didn't know how, but he figured he'd have enough love for them all if needed. Perhaps he was feeling jealous that she could have had that, but chose to throw it and her own children away instead.

Too many feeling and not enough answers. He needed to get some meditation done and sort himself out before Ghost came to find him again. It wouldn't do for them to see him angry and conflicted like he was. He marched along until he found a nice, quiet section of the gardens and sat. He folded his legs under himself and let his cloak fall around him, emptying his mind and falling deep into the calming waves of meditation. He let the feelings come and wash over him, letting himself experience them without becoming consumed. The memories and the experiences were neatly sorted as he pulled himself together where he'd be able to experience them again should he wish to. Soon, there was nothing but calm. Everything was in it's right place and Mato let himself drift away into the nothingness and soothe his heart.

He started back into reality when he felt a tug on his cloak. He instinctively looked down where he expected a tiny void creature to be tugging on his cloak, looking for hugs. When he didn't see them down there, he looked up to see his grown child tugging on his cloak, eyes curled up in amusement.

"Hey Dad," they said with a giggle. "Sorry to wake you, but I'm back."

"That you are." Mato replied with a 'smile' of his own, standing up to stretch. He must have been sitting for a while, as his legs began to buzz with pins and needles as he worked the numbness out. "How did it go?"

"Well. The larvae were moved with no more injuries. The Fools will have to fix their own coliseum, since it was their fault it got damaged in the first place." Ghost giggled again, something amusing must have happened, and no doubt they were saving it for dinner later.

"Let me guess, there's more too that?"

They nodded, vibrating slightly. "Yes, but I want Quirrel and Hollow to hear it too. They'll get a kick out of it and you'd spoil it if I told you now."

"Then let's not keep them waiting." Mato mock bowed. "After you, your majesty."

"Dadddd noooo." They waved their hands around, trying to get him to stand again. "That's embarrassing! Monomon doesn't do that!"

"She isn't allowed to bow because it gives her cover to get smoke bombs out of her veil without getting caught." He countered with a laugh.

Ghost just sighed dramatically and grabbed his hand, dragging him off towards the palace where dinner and company awaited. Mato found that he couldn't stop laughing, letting his child drag him around just for the fact that he could.

It was then he realized that he pitied the White Lady. All these little moments she willfully gave up, never to experience it for the foreseeable future. It struck him as very sad that she would give up such a thing, but he decided there was no use in trying to understand why.

After all, he would be too busy coming up with ways to spoil his own children, and that thought would consume most of his days, as It should be.

---

Heyo another request down!!! Next up will be SIBLING DAY!!!

Also antlion larvae are terrifying, but the fact that they have 'doodlebugs' as their nickname is strangely endearing.

I feel neutral about the white lady. Yes she willfully participated in the plan and no in no way innocent, but boy did she make herself suffer for it. Hence here, Ghost gave her a chance to just be who she was before, just god doing god things, without having to balance a kingdom. She just has to help clean up the mess she left her kids to deal with and can't run away when the going gets tough again. To be honest, I feel like she's a lot happier now to just have her nice little private cabin in the gardens with no royal responsibilities and the hope that one day she may have more than a professional relationship with Ghost and Hollow.

Hollow knows she is there, but is working through their own feelings before they decide on what to do about it. They love her so much but remembers the pain in being constantly rejected and treated as though they were already dead by her. It's complicated, but there are therapists in the kingdom now and that will help over time.

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wildwoods1 · 4 years ago

Photo

THE TIME OF THE VELVETEEN RABBIT

The Time of the Velveteen Rabbit couldn’t be age, though that is certainly an ally. It is a quality of seeing; a quality of sensing the essence of things that is not so encumbered and therefore deeply felt, perceived and experienced. Our Velveteen Rabbit bodies are worn, the eyes are dimmer and all the pink is faded from our noses where we’ve been kissed allot. Some of the passion has been traded in for quiet perception or stillness and that feels, with a sigh of awareness, exactly right. We are quieter inside in a way that allows the essential oils to bloom and the patina to surface on copper. And it may even come of it’s own volition. And now, we can actually begin to savor-savor-savor what is.

At first it is a tentative and delicate thing which, in its self wants to be savored. It has been a long time coming for some of us. We may even have forgotten that when we were five, we knew this thing. We hunted for it; it was the essential missing link for a material world experience, to savor. We looked to the delights of body, feelings and mind and found they all came up wanting. They surfaced like a balloon in the ocean. They came up, all right, but had none of the grace of the jellyfish, seeming to waft itself gently where ever it chooses to be. But never mind dear, we are here now. No one can take this away. Imagine what might be if we assumed the challenge of consciousness?!

Coming to this, and that makes it seem like the physical journey it usually is, we have made a detour into the land of identity. We have been down a rough road and sworn that we are the suffering of these life lessons. Blindfolded by a loving teacher, we feel around in the dark to find...what? Who we thought we were before we put the blindfold on? Did we not read Illusions? Did we not follow Richard Bach into the rivers’ central current and risk everything to fly? All the time clinging to identity, if not the river bank to define our world and make us...real. To whom? Only ourselves. Everyone else is busy doing the same. And when we are unsuccessful at this game, as we always are, we adopt something like judgment as our weapon of choice to fend off the doubt and fear that we do not, in fact exist. Ahhh, maybe we are on to something!

The Velveteen Rabbit is made real by love. Perhaps that is what our detour into this land of shadows is, an opportunity to open the heart. Then what. After an exhilarating ride through this impossible landscape, we stand around looking at each other for the next lesson. Some are a little biter that after such a harrowing experience we haven’t earned more points or the way out! (There, there dear, we are here now and need not identify with the past.) Dear.

Who is this Dear person? Is that me? Is that the one I am supposed to love and have only half made it? I’ll give me a hint; it is easier to love yourself when you find out you don’t exist! Have we among us any fans of Inner Child Work? Yes, of course. You have found this to be a valuable tool, and so it is. Imagine how powerful it could be if you actually heard that child tell you the truth. This child-within is not only a damaged little tike suffering the betrayals of 3-D Planet Earth, it is a wise and omnipresent consciousness with all the ‘power’ of God and any other immortality. It is you. But it is not you, or just the group soul or consciousness. All, maybe. Not all of that. All. Every. Om. That, according to...the Velveteen Rabbit, is who/what/why you, me, dragonflies and doodlebugs! It is wonderful that there are so many around us who can explain it so much better. And wonderful that each of us gravitates to the one that works for us. Ahhh. What a relief! I thought I was going to have to Be Somebody!

If there is no me, then I can be anything I want. I can go, do, be, whatever, wherever, whoever consciousness takes “me”! So now, the slightly raggedy Rabbit who has had a tiny first sip of non-existence loves the way we look when the sun is lazering through us as a bead of water on the edge of the birdbath and isn’t it fun that it is us! Our color changed ever so slightly when we-as-Wren hit her high note! My dear, we are this. And the Jasmine came along for the ride. How kind of it to be such an inspiration and teacher. Mmm. Now we can celebrate vigilance from a different quarter, don’t you think?

#organic transformation #becoming #ending up here

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alwaysanotherrainbow · 5 years ago

Text

my boyfriend never texts first

Remus just wants to not be the first one to send a message every once in a while. That’s not too much to ask, right?

relationship: romantic remrom, background remy and emile (also romantic)

warnings: major character death, extended mourning (secondary warnings- brief discussion of religious holidays, brief underage drinking mention, a lot of all-caps) notes: unrelated, human, hs/college au. virgil, emile, and remy are here too. If you need anything in the secondary warnings (or one of those latter three characters) edited out, please let me know and I can put that up for you!

____________________________________________________

Remus always texted him first. Always. It didn’t matter the situation, didn’t matter the time date place name face. Who what when where why. It first started when he texted hi roman :) when they first got phones; for whatever reason, Roman just never texted first. Either he’d call or they’d talk in person.

No matter. Remus could cope.

May 1:

8:37 PM tody i saw you by my locker 8:39 PM *today 8:42 PM why didnt you say hi?

May 2:

9:30 PM a teacher talked to me today 9:30 PM wanted to talk about how i’m doing after 9:52 PM well you know. he’s a sick bastard

Really, it wasn’t too much to ask for, was it? He just wanted to see him text first once in a while! May 7:

3:32 PM: by the way idk if you got this last time 3:36 PM: my class ring size is the medium 3:44 PM: hopefully you order it by the deadline :P 4:03 PM: no idea when the deadline is 4:20 PM: bLAZE IT 4:24 PM: sorry i have like 0 money so i got it from the consignment shop 4:31 PM: i hope you like synthetic rubies!! leaving them with ur dad 10:40 PM: update. i cried for four hours with your dad.

June 2:

7:30 AM: gRaDuAtIoN dAy!!! 7:32 AM: there’s cookies in the reception menu 7:35 AM: snickerdoodles your favorite [eyes] 10:02 AM: i’m getting some for u 10:05 AM: [kissy face] 7:40 PM: the announcement was Weird 7:43 PM: anyways i have the snickerdoodles (Remus couldn’t go over to where Roman was staying, so he left them in the living room. He knew Roman would appreciate them. Hopefully he’d come over (wait, probably not, given...))

Well, actually, he could understand why he never texted first. June 11:

12:14 PM: roMAN 12:16 PM: [Attachment: Remus_Picani-Kleitman_Acceptance_Letter.pdf] 12:18 PM: YEAHHHH 12:24 PM: I’m sure you got in too SEND ME YOURS WHEN YOU GET IT 12:32 PM: WE MIGHT SHARE A ROOM YEA 12:35 PM: [Attachment: celebration.jpg]

Everyone was probably saying that he ought to just move on, but to be honest, he couldn’t... Actually, to be honest, no-one had told him to move on to his face yet. In fact, everyone was surprised he was doing so well, given how bad the circumstances were! The situation was stressing him out so much, even his dads were gently advising him to rethink things. (Well, that was part of the territory with one of them being a therapist and the other being a barista.)

“I got y’all some kouign-amann from the cafe,” said Dad, putting it down on the counter. His shirt had SLEEP scrawled on it with a Sharpie; it was the one that Remus had made for him as a joke. He still wore it. Huh.

“Sweetie, what’s a queen amahn?” asked Papa.

“It’s a... er, it’s like a... this is kinda like a croissant that had dreams of a muffin tin and salted caramel. One for you, babe.... then one for Doodlebug-”

“Can I leave some for Roman?” asked Remus.

They exchanged a glance.

“Of course you can,” said Papa with a smile. “Your candle’s on the table. Also, I got the news about being accepted into university? Good job, kiddo. You know, that was your father’s alma mater.”

“Are you sure you want to go to school right away after...? No problem taking a gap year.”

Papa glared at Dad. “Be nice.”

“I’m sorry, Remus, it’s just...” Dad put down his coffee. “If you’re not ready, if you need more time-”

"I’m sure,” said Remus with a grin, trying to get rid of what he just remembered. “Trust me.”

“Please find a good way to put away the snickerdoodles, they’ve been there since last week!” shouted Papa.

June 12:

12:12 AM: its twelve twelve make a wish 12:15 AM: hey when does your phone bill go out? 12:20 AM: im just saying that would Explain some things 12:22 AM: i know your dad pays Everything like a year in advance 12:34 AM: tell him i say hi 12:34 AM: 12:34 MAKE A WISH

July 12:

3:30 PM: guess who’s a double major in bio and theatre!! 3:32 PM: marine biology babey 3:53 PM: it’s good for the SOUL 4:04 PM: this cute octopus reminded me of you by the way 4:10 PM: [Attachment: for_roman]

August 14:

6:24 PM: moving in is the Worst 6:32 PM: by the way i got a single 6:35 PM: no roommates 6:41 PM: still have the bunk tho 6:44 PM: also got ur favorite pillo

August 30:

2:12 AM: roman it is like two o’clock in the morning what the Heck are you doing here, 2:15 AM: if u see me wave Hi 2:32 AM: ok >:c 2:42 AM: dont mind Me just studyin on top of the planetarium 3:15 AM: tbh i didn’t even know we go to the same campus? haven’t seen you around or anything 3:17 AM: shit phones gonna di

September 28:

2:20 PM: i failed my test 2:22 PM: idk what to d 2:24 PM: *do

September 29: 7:30 PM: remember that octopus you gave me that eats negative emotions? 7:32 PM: it works!!

October 3:

1:10 PM: You’d like the theatre program, really 1:15 PM: just so u know they’ve listed your name as an ‘honorary member of the class of’ 1:19 PM: that’s really nice of them. idk if your dad knows

October 23:

9:45 AM: i had to explain one of our inside jokes 8( 9:52 AM: i can’t Explain the deodorant thing that was One Time 9:55 AM: also why i’m called The Duke 9:56 AM: its bc you said it. not my fault 9:58 AM: its still cute pls call me that still 9:59 AM: pancake brunch pancake brunch pancake brunch October 31: 6:12 PM: sun’s down! joyous samhain 6:15 PM: i remember when you sewed me that octopus btw, the one that eats ucky feelings 6:19 PM: how long did it take you to get the laurel sachet into it?? 6:34 PM: also thank you thank you thank you for helping me find a friendly church to celebrate all saints day 6:47 PM: that year was a NIGHTMARE because you forgot to get your white candles and carnelian, and i forgot my holy water, so we were driving around town like Madmen 6:59 PM: it was worth it though 7:03 PM: i left you a script, i think you’ll like it.

November 9:

11:19 PM: i miss you so so much.

November 10:

12:20 AM: ignor this i drank like 12:24 AM: a lot 1:15 AM: i’m sorry i should’ve been with you 1:22 AM: i shouldve been there With You. 1:45 AM: but i wasn’t 2:20 AM: i didn’t know thered be a 4:11 PM: shit i just saw these. Sorry to bother you December 2:

10:10 AM: hey roman, been a bit. yea sorry about last time. too much of the Alcohol 10:13 AM: gonna go over to my parents’ house 1:00 PM: if you wanna come over, you can. dad’s making snickerdoodles and papa’s gonna watch atla (yes i still have that dvd you got me do not @ me it’s with your candles on your table just like everything else) 1:03 PM: that was on the dot, i’m happy.

December 21

8:34 AM: hey, it’s snowing 9:13 AM: couldn’t help leaving you some hot cocoa. and snickerdoodles of course 10:12 AM: i love you Remus went to go help his dads with making breakfast, but by the time everyone was done cleaning and they had finished watching some shitty Hallmark movie, he remembered that he had left his phone upstairs. Going upstairs and looking at it, he felt something in him break.

[2 Unread: Roman <3, bf’s dad]

10:22 AM, Roman <3: Why are you texting this number? 11:15 AM, bf’s dad: Remus, disregard that last, I’m so sorry. I just found his phone and I saw only the recent message first

The phone started ringing. Remus answered it as quickly as he could.

“I’m so sorry Mr. Sanders I didn’t know that someone was actually getting these messages I thought the line was out,” he said within a few seconds before the person on the other side sighed.

“No, it’s quite all right. And Virgil’s all right, by the way, if you prefer. I... I was just looking through his things for the first time. You know, it being a holiday and all... Memories, things like that.”

“Yeah, I understand.”

“I just turned the phone back on, I’m getting a lot of messages.”

“Oh.” Remus stared at the wall, trying to come to terms with everything. “Well, I--”

“I’m not going to stop paying for his phone. I’m sorry, I just... I still have his voicemails on it, and I can’t stand the thought of it going offline either.”

“Right, I... I listen to it too.”

“I happened upon the last one he sent to you.”

“You looked at the messages?”

“I only looked over when I stopped getting new ones, but I saw the last question he sent you. For your ring size.”

“Yeah? He asked my ring size so that he could--”

“There’s no easy way to say this, but.. I found something of his. Can you come over?”

“I’m sorry, I can’t, but can you please tell me what it was? Please?”

“I really think I should tell you this in person.”

“Please, Mr. Sanders. Please, I... I can’t manage that.”

He sighed. “All right, Remus. I found an early acceptance letter to SJAU, and... and a ringbox.”

Remus felt his grasp on the phone grow weak. It fell onto the bed, Mr. Sanders’ voice still clear.

“I think he was going to ask for you to....”

“No, we... We were just out of high school, I-- that doesn’t make sense.”

“He always was one for those romantic gestures. There’s some poems here, too. A life-plan. I’m not sure exactly what malacology is, but--”

“Mollusks. Like octopi and squids.. Sorry for cutting you off, what was that?”

“Some of it’s in your handwriting, but one of the entries is ‘ask him’, for the day after... you know.”

God, he could hear his sad smile through the phone. He knew exactly how Mr. Sanders looked right now just talking to him, probably wearing that hoodie that was too big on him, in a dusty room full of things that used to belong to the most vibrant person that Remus had ever met.

But then Roman had died.

He was the most wonderful person, and he had just died.

“I’ll come over to deliver the ring to you. Is that okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s... that’s fine. Uh, call my dads first, though. They’re still not convinced I’m doing okay.”

“I understand. I’ll talk to you later, Remus.”

“Thank you, Mr. Sanders.”

The line went dead in his hands.

Remus held himself and wept.

December 28:

12:30 PM, Remus Picani-Kleitman: Mr. Sanders, would you like to come over for our New Year’s party? 12:34 PM, Remus Picani-Kleitman: It’s a tradition we had. You don’t have to if you’d rather not. 12:45 PM, Virgil Sanders: I’d love to go.

January 1:

12:00 AM: HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!! 12:05 AM: [Attachment: :)] 12:07 AM: we are all smiling in this photo and for that i think we deserve a hug. 12:10 AM: this rings the most beuatifl thing i’ve ever fuckign seen. thank you,, 12:14 AM: never gonna get rid of it <3 12:16 AM: it looks Good on my finger 12:30 AM: jsyk your dad’s asking my dads for the kouign amann recipe 12:32 AM: thats a pastry, i left those for u a while back 12:39 AM: okay i’m crying a bit but honestly, i love u 12:44 AM: I love you so so so much, Roman

Somewhere out there, whether it was from some wonderful paradise or beyond the veil or even only in wishful thoughts, Remus knew that someone was saying I love you too.

#remrom #remrom writing #my fics

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