What you don’t know until you live with a pet rock on your desk is that they can become a constant companion and make you smile whenever you catch a glimpse of them. I’m not sure why I imagine all pet rocks are male . I guess because there’s no room on rocks for skirts and full heads of hair.
Nigel first sat on my desk about forty years ago. The houses and the rooms have changed over time, but the desk and Nigel are constants. Originally a gift from Anne, a product a Year 8 art class, he has been my companion, comfort, mentor and inspiration.
An adult toy of the best kind!
Nigel comes home
The day at the end of a term that Anne brought him home wrapped in newspaper, I laughed out loud and fell in love with him. He makes me smile in a certain way. He often hides under work in progress, abandoned projects or just ordinary mess on my desk.
Nigel taught me that the tiger with the snarl and critical voice, who sometimes says my writing is hopeless, has no teeth and cannot hurt me or my work. It’s safe to ignore the critic!
Nigel’s appearance
Nigel’s skin is brown, grown smoother over the years. Made from two rocks, he fits neatly into my hand with a pleasant weight and balance. His head perches at an angle over his body, and his crossed eyes under lavish lashes constantly contemplate the toes on his feet which are painted side by side where other people’s legs might start.
Anne and Nigel
In her later years, Anne wanted me to get rid of him.
‘He’s an embarrassment,’ she said.
I laughed at her. I told her I loved him and that he always had a place on my desk and in my heart. He grew in stature after she died, a witness to my tears as I wrote the order of service for her funeral as well as that for her brother, Tim, four years later.
Journeys of discovery
Nigel is the rock that accompanies me on journeys of discovery. My Bachelor of Arts, a Masters degree, and finally my PhD thesis and book all came about under his close and compassionate supervision.
He has wintered the storms of my self-doubt and the voice that says, I cannot do this. Over and over he’s turned negatives into positives. He’s weathered my storms, witnessed my tantrums and comforted me in disappointments. Sometimes, he’s reminded me of my skills as a writer.
Unflappable
Generations of children have played with him. They’ve traced his eyes and his toes with tiny fingers and dropped him on the floor. Once or twice he’s needed a spot of glue to bind his head and body together again. But Nigel manages these events with equanimity and continues to contemplate his toes.
If you have an inanimate object that you love, Nigel and I would love to hear about it in the comments
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Acknowledgements
I adapted this from a piece I wrote as a to a prompt in a twelve week online intensive writing course, ‘For the Joy and the Sorrow’. It’s another in the Writing in the Dark series.
My dear friend and writing colleague, photographer Eileen Susan, encouraged me to turn this piece into a blog. You can read some of her writing and photography on Substack.
Oh, how I love this story about Nigel! He is adorable, as are the beautiful and precious memories, dear Maureen.
Inanimate objects are something I often talk to! Steve and I each bought a little travel companion on our recent break in Dunsborough. Katie Koala and Wally Wombat sneak into our photos that we share, just as Lochie and Nessie, my little Loch Ness monsters did in photos for my grankids when we were in Scotland!
Jeannine’s prompts are wonderful at bringing out aspects we’d not have considered writing about. I’m enjoying her Foy the Joys and the Sorrows intensive.
I’m so glad you’ve shared your story.
Thankyou for your kind mention. You inspire me to keep writing and sharing.💛
Xx
I just knew you’d like this story, Susan, because I know you too have inanimate objects that are important to you. How interesting that you and Steve bought travelling companions on your trip to Dunsborough. Love their names! I think our decision to share our For the Joys and Sorrows intensive was a really good one. The inspiration goes two waya.
Nigel is so precious& this brought back my memories of Ted. My first teddy bear that my father bought me soon after my birth.He is a 1943 mohair, now almost hairless bear. We’ve been through chicken pox, measles & other childhood trauma. Now sits on my bed & has shared many adult joys & sorrows.I had him repaired & rescued from dogs, cats & grandchildren & still he still brings me joy. 😃 I will try to send you his latest photo.
I’d love to see a photo of Ted, Maureen. What a beautiful person/animal he sounds. Like the Velvet Rabbit, almost loved to pieces and so real.
Great Blog – Nigel is a constant worthy of recognition for his steadfast qualities, and as a reminder of how important writing is in your life❤️
Yes, Jenny. Steadfast and mostly in one piece, which is a great attribute for a pet rock!
Hi Maureen,
That is absolutely beautiful!
I loved reading every word in this blog, and like your book, it is so well written. Exceptional writing and a gentle, strong story of a big solid part of your life’s journey. Sadly, I don’t have such a loyal companion on my desk, but your blogs that pop up from timae to time are every bit as supportive, encouraging and inspiring as your Nigel.
In fact, I think you might be a ‘medium’ for Nigel, channelling his positivity, to us all. Thanks Maureen,
Thank you for your warm comments, Tricia. I’m glad you enjoyed the blog post. Yes, of course I’m a medium for Nigel!
I love this story and the memories.
I have a sheep and a rabbit, gifts from two of my youngest granddaughters; I was even instructed that they were to sleep with me.
Before switching off each night, I say goodnight to them and ask if they are warm enough!
I love your story about the sheep and rabbit, SueW. I’m glad I’m not the only person with personalised inanimate objects they are fond of.
Interesting reading, Maureen
I don’t have a live pet nor a non living one.
I do have a few momentum things lying around, in a drawer, cabinet, closet or even on a shelf & every so often you come across it where your thoughts take you to where you got the object from or a person. Invariably, a smile or your heart pats. Only then you realise the joy that object has that emotional effect on you. Guess I can see that with your pet rock.
Yes, Nena, objects do have the ability of cause joy. I’ve become so used to my pet rock on my desk that I sometimes feel blase about it, but then I remember the delight.