Below are the 7 most recent journal entries recorded in Wendy Moira Angela Darling's LiveJournal:

Saturday, June 12th, 2004
1:07 pm	And it was dawdling that she did best. She had no particular skills in writing or painting, sport or drama, but in dawdling she had truly found her forte. For some it is hard to loose themselves while surrounded by screaming babies, scuttling pensioners and judging mothers, but for wendy the noumenal world was soon replaced by the meta-physical dreaming she had been perfecting since childhood. (Comment on this)
Saturday, March 13th, 2004
10:32 pm	All children grow up And as simple as that, Wendy’s world was never the same again. Shortly after the brief encounter Tomos was called away by his pert looking mother who needed him to demonstrate to some similarly pert looking woman how woefully undernourished he looked for a boy of 16. Wendy hated the woman, and this, for the usually passive Wendy, was unexpected even by her, and her only justification being that she wanted to talk to her son did little to ease Wendy’s dislike. Soon after Wendy was whisked away by her mother who had exhausted all her vast stores of motherly chit chat and thus felt completely out of her depth. When the duo re-entered their nicely toasted centrally heated home, it was with heavier hearts than when they had ventured forth. And life bumbled along ,as it has a curious habit of doing, for close to 3 years before Wendy was similarly touched by a force as close to heaven as mortally possible (well to the mind of an adolescent anyway). Wendy had taken to walking to school. The decision masqueraded as an attempt to lighten the suffering of her heavily laydened mother, but its true purpose was to allow Wendy the necessary time she required to dawdle and get totally absorbed with the complexities of life itself. (Comment on this)
Sunday, February 1st, 2004
8:49 pm	Forget them, Wendy. Forget them all She stood transfixed on the form in front of her. She had never seen eyes so blue or a mouth that curved so deliciously at the ends, as if they had a smile hidden within them just waiting to be released to a worthy subject. The boy turned and looked directly at her and smiled the broadest most open smile Wendy had experienced in her whole short life, in response to which Wendy dropped her plate of chicken salad all over the tan carpet and turned a violent shade of cherry. Luckily for Wendy, the rest of the room seemed too absorbed in hallelujahs of Mr Clarke to notice an odd looking girl who couldn't handle her chicken salad, so she was able attack the mess in relative peace. "i don't usually have this much of an affect on people" said a friendly voice in her ear. She turned and was once again faced with two piercingly blue eyes, which were this time only inches from her face. It took a moment for Wendy to recall that it was a real person who needed a response "Clumsy me, i've always had a phobia of chicken salad" Wendy babbled as she rubbed furiously at the carpet. The boy arched his lips into another wonderfully delicious smile and took the plate from her gently trembling hands. He stood up. She thought best to do the same as she now had no reason to be poised on the floor like a huddling hedgehog, but it was only when a helpful hand assisted her journey that she managed to stand. She could still see only those eyes and the beautiful home they inhabited. The noise in the room had reached a satisfying buzz of people well fed and ready to mingle, but Wendy heard nothing, could equate anything except the boy. "I'm Tom" he ventured "Tom" Wendy murmered to herself "That's it, Tomos Squire" Tomos Squire. A name that would forever more be linked to the boy who had stolen Wendy's heart away complete at the tender age of 13. "I'm Wendy, Wendy Darling" Wendy responded, "It's nice to meet you", She offered her hand as she had only seen done in films, in such a way that invited it to be kissed by a worthy suitor. But sadly the suitor had not watched as many period romances as Wendy and merely shook the offered hand in a manner well suited to corporate bankers, not that there was anything wrong with corporate bankers of course, it was just that they were less likely to carry you off into the sunset on a horse covered in yellow ribbons. He smiled another achingly beautiful smile which nstictively made Wendy smile back, a genuine and unconscious smile which showed all the warmth of her charcacter. In spite of Wendy believing it possible that she could look into those days till there were no more days left to live she felt compelled by the middle-class upbringing curtesly bestode on her by her mother to at least attempt some sort of small talk. "I live at number 4 Crookly Lane" "Oh?" "Yes, Mr Clarke has delivered our milk since before I was born, it is such a good proffesion being a milkman, so noble, and in my opinion they are not praised enough" Wendy said in a sponteneous burst of affection. The boy smiled, a more quizzical smile this time, that spoke as loudly as any words could, "hmmm im sensing that your mouth is sprouting words that your mind cannot possibly have thought" A slight blush crept into Wendy's smooth cheeks, but it was only because the boy was being entirely truthful and seemed to know that she had never, not once, thought about the milk delivering proffesion as being anything, noble or otherwise. "I hope I don't follow in his footsteps" "and why would you?" "Well the worthy milkman is my Godfather and in every other respect apart from his choice of employment, is the best role model I possess" Wendy assessed this information with a critical mind. "So you don't live near here then?" "I live in Bally; it's about an hour away and totally emmersed in the country. Me and mum are driving back there tonight, after we've finished tidying up" (Comment on this)
8:13 pm	It's just a thought, only a thought The door opened and a friendly-looking elderly women greated them "Welcome, welcome, please come in, are you friends of Frank's?" After a moments pause in which Mrs Darling realised she had no idea what Mr Clarkes Christian name could be, she replied relatively confidently "Oh yes, he's been delivering our milk for 14 years now, and not once has it been late and our daily glass of milk is so vital to us all" Mrs Clarke quite agreed and proceeded to invite them into a cosy looking sitting room filled with people. Wendy was amused. Small talk had always appealed to her- and small talk about delievering milk rated quite high on her scale of small talk hilarity. She glance aound the room and quickly assessed that she knew no one. She studied the elderly men with particular scrutiny, but it was to no avail; any or all of them could have been Mr Clarke for all she knew, so, to cover all eventualities, she smiled pleasantly at each and every one of them. Mrs Darling had attached herself to a friendly looking middle-aged women near by (in a way mothers are only too prone to do), leaving Wendy free to explore the surrounding area. J=Which she promptly proceeded to do in a leisurely fashion. Her exploration unsurprisingly ended next to the buffet table where, before shewas aware what had happened, Wendy found herself with a plate in one hand a tongs poised over a chicken salad in the other. She loaded her plate with an enthusiasm which could only be attributed to her not wanting to be their and the food being her only consolation. When plate was full Wendy proceeded to find a convinient spot in which to eat it. She looked around the tan-themed living room for a free area when her eyes became transfixed on a sight n front of her. It was a boy, and his looks was perfection. (Comment on this)
Friday, January 23rd, 2004
10:36 pm	Are you brave enough to fly? It was one of those quite unspecific frosty May morning which manage to chill you senseless while giving the impression of impending summer. It was 7.30 and the Darling family were begining to congrgate around the oak breakfast table which was at present adorned with a variety of sweetened cereals and roughly sliced bread. Mrs Darling had gone to retrieve their daily two pints of red-capped full cream from their front doorstep, in the same way she had done since she and Mr Darling had first moved into their Crookly Lane Cottage 14 years previously. When she returned from her uneventful adventure to the front door, she had in in her delicate hands not only the glasses of milk, but also a letter. "How odd" mummered Mrs Darling to the now opened letter in her hand. Wendy made no reply, for as odd as the letter may have been it was still a remarkably early hour for her undersized brain and she was at that moment concentrating all her waking thoughts on buttering her toast and pouring her orange juice. "Mr Clarke is retiring, how sad" Mrs Darling continued. Wendy made a non-commital grunt to this remark as she had not the vaguest idea who Mr Clarke was and had even less idea what he was retiring from. A clatter of high heels annonced the arrival of Tatiana to the kitchen. "Mr Clarke's retiring" Mrs Darling ventured for the second time. "Oh, that would be vaguely interesting if I knew who the dicken's Mr Clarke was" replied Tatiana. "Mr Clarke's the milkman" "We have a milkman?" said Tatiana in a tone of utter disbelief. Wendy supressed a giggle, though to be perfectly honest Wendy had never fully connected the milk on their doorstep to an actual man before. "Yes Tatty, we've been having Milk delivered for more than a decade by Mr Clarke who has just this very day announced his retirement" "oh, yes, of course" replied Tatiana who was fast losing interest in the whole conversation. "We should get him a card or a present to show our gratitude" said Mrs Darling who was not quite as willing as Tatiana to forget about their long suffering milkman, "He's having a retirement buffet on Saturday, we should go, show our support" "Mum, Im not entirely convinced that any of us would have even noticed that Mr Clarke had gone if he hadn't left a note, so I think it would be down right odd to go to the party of a man whose first name we can only guess at and whose physical appearance remains a mystery to all who don't rise at the crack of dawn" Having made her speach Tatiana returned to her cereal in such a way that made it perfectly clear she thought the last had been said on the matter. Mrs Darling once again thought differently, and it was this differeing of opinions which resulted in Mrs Darling and Wendy waiting outside a pleasant looking terreced house on a nippy Saturday afternoon, while Mr Darling and Tatiana were lazily lounging about the house, one glued to the Westham match and the other filing their nails (I'll leave you to figure out which was doing which). (Comment on this)
10:17 pm	If I could see you in my dreams then I'd sleep forever Wendy had never envied love. To her, love meant Tatiana, her 18 year old sister and her over-emotionally boyfriend, Phil. As they were both of the artistic persuasion, dating for them meant (to Wendy at least) agonizing days, filled with pinings and sobs, tears and tantrums that nothing but a phone call or an instant message from Tatiana's desired one could rectify her foul mood. The once reasonably sane elder sibling had, with the introduction of boys and make-up, been transformed into an ogre, in the story-books-of-old kind of way. An ogre who tied up phone lines and never remembered the tiny little sister she'd left far behind in the land filled with barbie dolls and bed time stories. No, love was something Wendy thought she could do without, thank you very much, until the day that the new milkman started delivering in her road...... (Comment on this)
9:54 pm	A hidden kiss A hidden kiss? How perfectly alluring to one untouched by its meaning. Tomos Squire was as perfect to Wendy as any boy she had ever met. Or was likely to meet for that matter, for Wendy was at an age when all the faults of one's character remain blissfully unseen, and try as Wendy might, this age would not last forever and soon her vision would be focused on all the blemishes and faults of those around her. He looked to her like an angel, his eyes were as blue as the forget me nots growing at the bottom of Wendy's garden. (Comment on this)