Wisdom of Sage

Simon Cole

Description

A humorous romp through life of a young bastard expelled from art school. Set in 1980s Britain, Paris and Istanbul.Sage's existence is humdrum, routine. He is working in a firm decorating religious tracts while his partner has her first exhibition, progressing towards artistic success. This exacerbates his discontent and he sets off travelling.

Informations

• Publié par: Welcome House Publications
• Date de parution: 01 juin 2012
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9780952808435
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

The Wisdom of Sage
Simon Cole
A WELCOME HOUSE PUBLICATIONS E-BOOK WWW.WELCOME-HOUSE.COM
Copyright
THE WISDOM of SAGE E-book publication by Welcome House June 2012 Copyright Simon Cole 2012
The right of Simon Cole to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright Designs and Patents Act 1988.
EPUB ISBN: 978-0-9528084-3-5
Website: www.welcome-house.com Email: [e-mail]
All the characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Condition of Sale
This e-book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is downloaded and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
Cover production and web site design and implementation by seosistemi.com [e-mail]
Ebook Conversion by eBookpartnership.com
With special thanks to my friend the broadcaster Hermione Gee whose suggestions after kindly reading the final manuscript were invaluable.
For any errors, omissions or inconsistencies I alone am responsible
Simon Cole May 2012
Contents
About the Author
Also by Simon Cole
CHAPTER ONE: In which Sage begins to realise his discontent
CHAPTER TWO: He reflects on his bastardy.
CHAPTER THREE: In New York .
CHAPTER FOUR: Sage meets an old friend
CHAPTER FIVE: His father confesses his existence
CHAPTER SIX: Sage meets his muse
CHAPTER SEVEN: In the womb of a bar
CHAPTER EIGHT: His grandparents and a whore
CHAPTER NINE: Jane prepares for the exhibition
CHAPTER TEN: The Sages have sex
CHAPTER ELEVEN: and go to church.
CHAPTER TWELVE: His father sends his envoy
CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Sage moves on.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN: Back in New York
CHAPTER FIFTEEN: and in London and the country.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN: A death in the family.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: The court case
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: and the funeral.
CHAPTER NINETEEN: On the road and homeless
CHAPTER TWENTY: Sage joins the travelling community .
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: .and sets off himself,
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: to Paris
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: in Paris
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: New York
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: Arrival in Istanbul
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX: and a home from home
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN: Salvation?
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT: Art and religion
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE: Sage inherits
CHAPTER THIRTY: The envoy gets laid
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE: Salvation approaches
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO: Sage moves on
About the Author
Simon Cole has experienced life to the full, doing everything with great enthusiasm..
His chequered career has included amongst other things spells as a Butlin Redcoat, lorry driver, working his way round the world and on the oil-rigs. He was a roustabout in the Australian outback and worked with computers in New York. He has also been Private Secretary to a Saudi Prince, stood for parliament, held an Honorary Research Fellowship and owned The Steam Packet Inn in Totnes.
These days he is concentrating on writing.
He spends his time in Istanbul, Albania and Britain.
Also by Simon Cole COPING WITH TURKEY (Published by Blackwell) THE GULF STATES (Published by Blackwell) THE WELCOME GUIDE TO TURKEY (Published by Welcome House)
Coming Soon ALBANIA UNDER THE SKIN with Erjon Garxenaj [Dec 2012] TURKEY UNDER THE SKIN [Dec. 2012] INSCRUTABLE IN ISTANBUL
In the Sage series THE WISDOM OF SAGE
Coming in 2013 / 2014: MIDDLE SAGE SAGE IN OLD AGE
CHAPTER ONE
In which Sage begins to realise his discontent
Quentin Sage, never at his best nor his most agreeable in the mornings, glowered at his reflection in the shaving mirror in the bathroom. His eyes bulged slightly with a distant expression. Blood-shot, as they were most mornings these days, they revealed his sensitivity. His head was throbbing. What had perturbed him was the sight of a single hair, much longer and stronger than the rest, sprouting from his arched left eyebrow.
Jane!
He yelled through to the bedroom of the flat in London s Tufnell Park they had shared since his unfortunate departure from St Martin s School of Art.
Jane Seth-Brown rolled over on the futon and opened one eye. She resolved, as she had done every morning for the past two years that her partner should be tidier in their bedroom. Books and papers, art materials and make-up cluttered every flat surface including the floor; most of which had been left there by Jane herself. An easel in the far corner of the room was hung with skirts and dresses on clothes-hangers.
What do you want Sage?
Come and look at this. His voice was petulant, like a child calling its mother. Jane had been attracted by his indecisiveness initially. When they first met Jane was as forthright as Sage was diffident. They had sparked, and after two years together her more vigorous attitude had proved contagious; but he was still mentally lethargic.
She observed he had altered little over the course of their relationship and in any change she had been something of a catalyst. He was bright enough, clever; if a bit slow on the uptake. She struggled into an ancient, and not very clean, quilted dressing-gown.
Although Quentin Sage and Jane Seth-Brown always pretentiously referred to their accommodation as a flat, it was in reality two attic rooms. The tall Victorian house was owned by their landlady who lived downstairs. The small bathroom had been installed on the greater part of what had been the landing at the top of the stairs, adjacent to their rooms, and the agreement was that they shared the kitchen in the basement with the owner. Mrs Elizabeth Bagshawe, an early divorcee, had hoped that the upstairs tenants would be frequent users of the kitchen and thus provide her with company. Sage and Jane Seth-Brown had proved a great disappointment in this regard since they almost invariably brought home take-aways, privately referred to Mrs Bagshawe as Bagface, and avoided her whenever possible.
Their indifference made Mrs Bagshawe even more clamorous for their company, and she was forever contriving excuses to make contact. This exacerbated an already difficult relationship and it might have been better for both parties to have admitted defeat and gone their separate ways. However after two years of living in this symbiotic relationship, neither Mrs Bagshawe nor Quentin and Jane had much inclination to give it up.
Jane stood in the open doorway of the bathroom watching as Sage toyed with the recalcitrant bristle on his eyebrow.
What the hell is it? he said churlishly.
It s a long hair, Sage. Jane laughed at his discomfiture. Of the sort we all get, men and women, when we reach a certain age. To be sure you ve started very young. Eventually they sprout in other places too.
Sage paid little heed to what Jane was saying and continued to stare morosely into the mirror above the avocado basin. Then he caught his own eye and quickly looked away.
You have to make a decision, said Jane.
Sage turned to her, a blank look on his early-morning crumpled face. Since they had been together Jane had made all the decisions; why was she now putting him on the spot?
To pluck or not to pluck, she said.
Eh? Sage was confused.
Think of Gormley? And Healey? she said enigmatically, and disappeared into the bedroom.
Eh? Sage took little interest in politics and had been oblivious to the Chancellor as he was growing up. Whilst he was aware that the miners strike seemed to be coming to an end, he had no perception of the facial hair of the previous leader of the mineworkers union.
Jane returned with a pair of tweezers, and with her left hand pulled Sage s still throbbing head onto her breast. She deftly removed the offending whisker.
Sage checked his reflection in the mirror once more. With his soulful hazel eyes and pale-complexioned face he was boyishly handsome. He ran his fingers through his widow s peak, pushing it back from his temple, which was something he did whenever he was anxious.
Just lately it had become difficult to get up in the morning. Nothing seemed to interest him any more, and Jane was preoccupied with her first exhibition due to open in a few weeks. Her concern with producing enough work for the show had made her remote, and he felt excluded from something to which he had once aspired himself. He lay down again on the crumpled futon. Jane mixed some Andrews in a plastic mug in the bathroom and brought it in to him, still stirring it with the handle of a toothbrush.
Drink it, she commanded, handing him the middle classes cure-all for everything from hangover to morning-sickness. Sage took it in silence. He rarely said what was truly on his mind, and was in any case always taciturn first thing in the morning. Jane had thought he had hidden depths which would eventually become apparent, although she was not proving very successful at finding them. Only he knew what was going on in his head.
Sage studied Jane s well-rounded figure as she disappeared into the other room. She usually wore shawls, flat shoes and no make-up. First thing in the morning her face showed its natural English rosebud complexion, and she was now dressed in panties and bra over which she had thrown a kaftan. She had turned on the radio tuned to the Today programme, as she did every morning. Brian Redhead was extoling the latest iniquities of the Thatcher government but as usual neither of them was listening to it.
There was a bang as the front door closed, signalling the departure of Mrs Bagshawe. I m going down to the kitchen. Jane disappeared from the room just as the phone rang. Sage let it ring in the hope that the answering machine would cut in. When the ringing failed to stop he crawled across the floor and found the phone under a pile of clothes.
Hullo. Sage composed his voice in case the call was conne