The International Writers Magazine: Further Adventures of Guy Block

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Block-Age • Mark Cunliffe Guy Block strode through the dull corrugated roofed, glass and brick walled tube that Hopemouth University entitled a corridor with a sense of purpose. Nothing would get him down today, the sun was shining, though you could hardly notice it in this intestinal passageway, and Guy had cancelled all his lectures. He was about to make his escape.

It was his 56th Birthday.
A day off.
And he was in for a treat.
Nevertheless, he could see an even more purposeful stride on Prof Laura Lowry as she came towards him with her young features set in anger. Pity thought Guy; if she could bear to remove the permanent expression of misery from her face she would be quite pretty. Mid 30s with strawberry blonde hair, yes she had a lot going for her, but she still maintained a look that one would nominally only get from licking piss of nettles.
"Prof Block, what is the meaning of this?" she demanded
"Well, it’s a corridor, one uses it to get from A to B, or in this case from the lecture hall to the main gates" Guy snorted wittily
"You know what I mean, Prof Block, why have you cancelled your classes today?" she asked, standing in his way.
Guy sighed; still nothing will get him down. "Because I can and I have" he answered.

Clearly this was the wrong answer for his departmental colleague for after a harrumph she started a lecture of her own on him, but Guy wasn’t listening. A beautiful young girl out on the grounds had distracted him. She was laughing and frolicking with some friends and swaying her long blonde hair about as if it was an advert for shampoo. She arced her back up to catch a Frisbee and Guy was treated to a wonderful view of the curve of her slim figure and the delicious bottom encased in tight denim. She flashed an immaculate toothy white smile as she caught the object easily and prepared to throw it back.
"Prof Block? Prof Block? Really!"
The sharp and loud words of Laura Lowry snapped him from his reverie.
"What?" Guy asked with innocence
"Oh for heavens sake, why don’t you just go and fuck her Prof Block?" she snapped with an air of sanctimonious glee at catching him out. She tapped her left foot slightly as she waited for his reply, his apology. God this felt good. "Why don’t you just go and fuck her?" she repeated louder this time for passers by.
"Because I already have" replied Guy with a wan smile.
Checkmate.
Laura Lowry quickly reddened and with an involuntary twitch of her mouth she hurried off flustered and embarrassed to the sounds of a passing Prof West’s loud garrulous chuckle.
Content, Guy turned to the window to see the girl wave and blow a kiss at him, to which he duly returned.
Yes Block old boy, still got it.

Leaving the University, Guy immediately felt free and he quickened his pace as he trotted down the hill to the car park. He wanted to rid himself of the walls of Hopemouth as soon as humanly possible. Today is such a bloody great day.

There at the car park waiting for him was his birthday present to himself. An immaculate, lovely Jensen V8 Interceptor, a classic model from the 1970s, its white paintwork gleaming in the late morning sun. It was a sad day when Guy traded in the MG, but this car was an absolute dream. Hopping in he fastened his seatbelt, revved up, flicked the newly installed CD and sped off, kicking up gravel as the sounds of Jethro Tull blasted out the good vibes as he made his escape.

Guy was going to celebrate his birthday by having lunch at his favourite pub, The Queen’s, which perched magnificently atop Hopemouth Hill. He couldn’t wait for his birthday treat. It had been a good start to the day; he had wangled out of lectures and had received his presents in the post. A new study on Byron and Dennis Potter’s Casanova on DVD from his on/off wife Francine and some hideous painting from the terrible twins Jeremy and Jemima which depicted Guy or ‘Daddy’, Francine or ‘Mummy’ and several stick thin figures in short triangles which were helpfully highlighted as ‘Daddy’s special friends’

He had even received a card and a letter from his estranged daughter Rhiannon, which brought an almost manly tear to Guy’s eye. She had been a 70s lovechild from a rather tempestuous relationship with a girl he shared a pad with called Angelica who for a long time Guy had thought was ‘the one’. But that was in days of innocence before Guy realised that man simply cannot live with women and that safe sex is best practised. Still, Guy was very fond of Rhiannon, and would often have a lump in his throat when he heard the Fleetwood Mac song she was named after, so he never really regretted having the lump in his trousers for her mother.

Being 56th was not bad at all. Guy hated turning 50, but he really felt like he was settling in to his age, and its not like his love life had receded, which was Guy’s biggest fear. No, he was like Mick Jagger, he happily told himself. It’s nice to emulate your heroes.

He could still pull the girls. For sure, sometimes they got the upper hand; there were always bitches that played on his randiness to get their own way. Guy blamed the parents. If there was one thing he had learnt about girls was that some are daddy’s girls who will manipulate anything and everything to suit themselves. Still, there were always the independent girls who knew the rules of the game as well as he did and enjoyed the fun. Rather like the young girl with the Frisbee today, Guy thought and made a mental note to arrange a rematch.

On one occasion there are the hard to pin and downright odd ones. Like for instance, that cutie from Doncaster he had recently bedded. She was lovely and fun and enjoyed the game, but a little too much. Guy recalled with horror the night she lay in the crook of his arm and suggested a long-term relationship! He nearly had a stroke! And there was only one kind of stroke Guy Block enjoyed! With a shudder at the very thought he turned The Tull’s ‘A Song For Jeffrey’ up higher and relaxed himself into enjoying the ride. The Jensen was a wonderful car and he was really enjoying the power he felt as he raced along the country lanes. Leaning into his jacket pocket Guy pulled out his cigarette case and lifted out a carefully rolled joint to smoke.

It was his birthday after all.

Lighting up, Guy became reflective. He could never understand what made women tick. Francine had left a little caustic note with his presents, liking him to the legendary lovers presented, Byron and Casanova. This appalled Guy, for one thing he never had syphilis or piles like those two did! Nor did he ever commit incest! Byron did for his sister and Casanova enjoyed a dalliance with his own daughter. Nevertheless they are held in high esteem and romanticised by young ladies who wish that such dandified bucks would come along and sweep them off their feet. Maybe that’s where Guy fitted in. They should be grateful he isn’t pox ridden at least. Still, it didn’t do to analyse.

Finally he had reached his destination. As he mounted the hill he was licking his lips at the thought of the mighty steak and ale pie and vintage bottle of wine that awaited him. He entered the dark and oak beamed room and spotted a beautiful girl not unlike a young Catherine Deneuve waiting in the corner. He began to lick his lips once more at this gorgeous vision and their eyes met. The girl paused for a brief moment before breaking out an amazing pleased to see you smile and shouting "Guy darling where have you been?"
This was his second present to himself. Her name was Abbie, a reader in the English Dept and his current girl.

Yes Block old boy, still got it.
Happy Birthday!
© Mark Cunliffe
markbc@hotmail.com

Love Games
Mark Cunliffe
It was a crisp September morning with the summer sun still hanging in the air, abetted with the nice breeze that signified that autumn was round the corner. It was 1974, and Wendy Lampkin stepped off the train at Hopemouth station
Love Games Chapters Three & Four
Chasing Wendy
She was a phantom of delight
Stumbling Block
Mark Cunliffe
Guy Block hated tutorials.
A long spring afternoon was laid out in front of him with nothing but a depressing wave upon wave of snivelling students demanding his full and earnest attention.
It wasn’t fair.
Road Block
Mark Cunliffe
As Guy Block walked briskly across the windswept concrete square that was optimistically called a ‘piazza’ at an incredibly early hour of the day he knew that what lay ahead for him did not bode well.
Mind Block: Guy Block gets some libido therapy
Mark Cunliffe
Block Out
Mark Cunliffe
It was a crisp January morning at Trenton University.
All was normal
Block Party
Mark Cunliffe
Guy Block knew it was going to be a bad night out.

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