Dave takes a Leap

' I'm free, to do what I want, any old ti-ime', Dave sang softly to himself as he strode across the moors. ' I can manage on my own', he thought, 'Of course I can.  I managed before I met Val - although that seems so long ago I can barely remember how.'

Dave paused briefly on the edge of a peat bog before his long rangy legs propelled him over in a single bound.

'If only I could manage to find the elixir of life', he mused, landing neatly on a patch of reeds,  'The secret to happiness.  I don't mean eternal happiness - I just mean a general sense of contentment with the day to day and perhaps an occasional spike into bliss rather than the current mindless trudge through the mire.  Is that a lot to ask?  Perhaps it is.  Perhaps I'm overstepping the parameters of the acceptable.  But then again - why shouldn't I?  Perhaps it's time I had a long hard look at my life.  Perhaps it's time to make some changes.   Am I really happy with Val?  Did I choose the correct life partner?  Well, I know the answer to that one, don't I.  And in any case, she chose me.  I didn't have much say in the matter now I come to think properly about it.  Which is not a comfortable thing to do.  In fact I'm going to stop thinking about it right now,  it's making me feel rather unwell.'

He wiped his nose on the back of a fingerless glove as he reached the brow of the hill, and looked eastwards to a descending grassy slope, studded with clumps of spaghnum moss.  At the bottom was a low building with a thin vertical stream of pale grey smoke emanating from a hole in the top.

'People say they have no regrets.  Well,  they must be lucky because I have plenty.  Mainly about stuff I didn't do, rather than stuff I did.  Now isn't that strange?  Or perhaps it isn't.  How would I know.  I've never spoken to anyone else about it.  Perhaps everyone feels the same.  But I kind of hope not because that would be a bit dull. '  Dave leapt downhill springing from clump to clump of soft spongy moss,'  I wonder who stays here.  Perhaps they might offer me a hot drink and a sandwich.  Perhaps it's time for me to step out of my comfort zone.  Perhaps I need to start saying YES to the universe, instead of anxiously hiding in the shadows with my trail cam.'

He walked round to the front of the building and knocked firmly on a bright green door.

'Is there anybody there?'

The brass letterbox swung open, pushed by an unseen hand.  Dave bent down and met a pair of beady eyes glittering in the darkness ...

Next time - Dave makes some new friends...and some new discoveries...

The Youngbloods - Get Together - 1967 - 5 .1 Surround (Stereo in)

Dave Nark has an existential crisis

'Does Santa wear a full wig, or is it a ring of white hair attached to his hat to make it look like a wig? What does he do for the rest of the year, what does he think about?  Does he garden at all?'  Dave Nark muttered as he paced back and forth in front of the row of composting toilets behind the yurts as the snow began to fall.  He was wearing khaki-coloured fingerless gloves and biting his nails. 

'I can't go on like this,' he thought. 'What am I doing with my life?  I'm 59 years old and the world has passed me by.  Or is it the other way round?  Am I really happy with Val?  Or am I just making do - settling, as they say.  I think I know the answer to that one.  Oh dear.  But it's not just that.  The wildlife vids are just not cutting it.  I'm losing my touch.  Everyone's tik tokking now.  My vids are old hat.  Nobody's interested in otters.  They want killer whales and breaching humpbacks.  I have to up my game or move on.  Basically that's it, isn't it.  Up my game or move on.  Move on into the fucking grave.'

'DAVE!'  screeched Val from inside the healing yurt.  'Don't forget that you've kindling to chop, logs to bring in and the woodburner to clean when you've done digging out the toilets.  And you can make me a cup of goji berry tea while you're at it.  Properly mind!  I want the water freshly boiled not flat and under-oxygenated like the last time.   I'm worn out hot-stoning.'

Dave stopped pacing for a moment.   He rubbed his long nose in a thoughtful manner and removed a drop of moisture with the back of his fingerless glove. 

'DAVE!'

'DAVE ARE YOU LISTENING!'

'DAVE!'

And then he started pacing again, only in a different direction.  Rather than pacing back and forth in front of the toilets (which he hadn't dug out by the way), he narrowed his eyes, adjusted his bobble hat and headed behind them - towards the moors...

next time - Dave has an odd encounter in a sweat lodge

Beginning the year with TS Eliot