**Diary Entry 12th October**
The day hadnt gone well.
It happens, I know that, James. But still, Id had enough of everything.
He thought about his life.
What had he achieved? Nearly forty, finished school, college, did his national service. Had a flat, a wife, two kids, drove a beat-up car to that ridiculous allotment where he slaved away. No lounging with a pint for himjust digging beds, weeding, carting soil in a wheelbarrow, mowing grass. The shed roof sagged, the fence collapsed, the wood rotted.
The tram rattled like an old tin can, swaying on its tracks. James sat by the window, watching streetlights flicker into life, a bright chain in the dark, and thought.
His life was ordinary. Just like everyone elsesfamily, job, the allotment, payday, kids, parents, in-laws. Football on Sundays, a pint after a sauna at the plot. Birthdays, holidays, all the usual. But lately, it all felt stale. Too quiet. Too safe. He wanted something moreexcitement, a spark.
It struck him thenhed always been the steady one. The *convenient* one. Like hed followed a path laid out for him, never daring to stray.
What if he could start over?
His mind drifted to Lucy, his first love. Holding hands, dreaming aloud, that first dizzying kiss. A pang of sadness hit him, and he wiped his eyes.
It couldve been different.
Lucybright, cheeky, always laughing. Hed been gutted when they split. Then came Emily, the oppositecalm, dependable. No games, no jokes. “You want me in bed? Wait till were married.”
“Brought you flowers!”
“Stupid, you couldve been fined for nicking those from the park!”
Everything measured. Practical.
After the wedding, she called his parents “Mum and Dad” straight away. Settled right in. They adored hersensible, kind, the perfect homemaker.
But was that what *he* wanted?
James lost himself in thought.
They never argued. Hed chickened out back then, never took the leap. And Lucy? Shed vanished. Heard she married someone else.
The tram jerked to a stop. People spilled out, others crowded in. James pushed toward the backthree stops to go. He hadnt taken public transport in years, used to his own car, clunky as it was.
Then a voice, sharp and familiar:
“Jimmy, stand still, *please*.”
He turned, scanning the tired facescommuters staring at nothing, worn out by their own worries. A plump woman gripped a boys hand, the lad fidgeting, desperate to tell her something.
“Mum, guess what? Vicky at school”
“James, *behave*.”
“But I wanna tell you *now*! At home, youll cook, then listen to Annie drone on about her boyfriends, then Daves uni gossip, then you and Dadll yap about the bloody allotmentwhat about *me*? Whyd I have to be the youngest? And this stupid name”
“James is a lovely name!”
“Oh yeah? *James the sparrow, rode a horse, crashed into a tree, lost his pants*thats what they chant! Mum”
“You ought to listen to your boy,” cut in an old woman with dyed-red hair and a scarlet beret. “One day, youll want to talk, and he wont care to.”
The mother scoffed, then glanced at James. Their eyes metjust for a secondbefore she bent to her son. “Go on, then. But *quietly*.”
The boy babbled excitedly.
And then it hit him. *Lucy*.
That was her. His road not taken. *That* couldve been his lifehis kids ignored, his allotment moaned about. Would he have been happier? Doubtful.
She hadnt recognised him. Just another stranger on the tram.
Suddenly, the weight lifted. His routine with Emily, the kids, even the allotmentit didnt seem so grey anymore. Fishing trips with his father-in-law, Emily always listening
Life was good.
Funnyif his car hadnt broken down, hed still be stewing over missed chances.
At his stop, he squeezed past Lucy and the boy, leaned down, and whispered something. The kid gaped, then burst out laughing.
“Whatd he say?” Lucy asked as James stepped off.
“That man? Taught me a comeback for the bully. *If Im a sparrow, youre a starlingall squawk, no brains!*”
“He always had a sharp tongue.”
“You *know* him?”
“Course not. Dont be silly.”
Lucy sank into a seat, her son beside her. Her husband hadnt picked them up todayjust as well. Lately, shed been restless, wondering *What if shed waited for James?*
But seeing him nowjust a middle-aged bloke with a paunch and thinning hairthe fantasy crumbled.
“Mum, can we bake a cake tonight?”
“Mm. Battenberg?”
“*Yes!*”
“Shh, James, not so loud.”
(Her husband had named the boy after his granddad. Lucy didnt mind. Nice name.)
James ducked into a closing florist, snatched the last three white carnations.
“How much?”
“Eh?” The cashier glared.
“For these.”
“Take em. Theyre wilted.”
“Let me pay”
“Just *go*.”
At home, he handed them to Emily. Instead of scolding him for wasting money, she smiled.
“Whats this for?”
“Dunno. Fancied making you happy.”
Later, sprawled on the sofa, he overheard her on the phone:
“Mine brought flowers today. No reasonhes always been a softie like that”
**Lesson:** The grass isnt greener. Sometimes, all it takes is a wilted carnation to remember what youve got.
