I sat thinking about this this morning as I scooped froth off my cappuccino in my favourite Persian / Indian cafe, loading up on caffeine and staring out accross the sea. I do this every day pretty much. I get up, get dressed walk down the hill, have a really strong coffee in the same cafe, go for a walk along the sea front, walk up the hill and work from home until I collapse into bed. I sat and did the maths today. Say I miss a few days, call it 350 days… That’s £2.30 x 350… That £805 on coffee a year. That’s really spiffy coat from Maharishi, my favourite but very ethical clothing vice, and lots of trainers, or the best part of a new MacBook i desperately need, a good book a week… Lots of things… So why do I do it? Well, because, for a very long while I would really suffer mentally around other people, I’d really suffer leaving the house, I’d become agoraphobic, overweight, depressed, a complete social misfit. Without that ritual of a coffee a day or something like it I would shrink, disappear into myself. It’s daily maintenance and much cheaper than therapy , and I should know as I’ve had plenty of that too.
As an arbitrary date clicks over and a bunch of sheep world wide jump up and down and celebrate under the delusion that this next arbitrary slice of time will somehow be better than the last, I am very concious that I do not do what so much of the Hastings and St Leonards, where I live, does and that is to just do exactly the same stuff next year that I did last year, or the year before, or the year before that. Or…. Well, I’m sure you get the picture.
I’m sure it goes on everywhere, that limited horizon, petty minded view of the world where people can’t see beyond maintaining their positions in some sort of pecking order. I can only write about what I know, and what I know is this….
The town I know seems to be in a state of perpetual repetition. Rather than Groundhog Day , it is groundhog year starting and ending with the same crappy scout disco level party and cycling through some mardi grass codswallop, daft made up pagan bollocks, alcoholic pirate day, a festival, a carnival week, a tiresome arts festival, some bilge to do with fish, all interspersed with other bits of frippery with no other point it seems than to drum up the tourist trade and give a few people, who should be old enough to know better, something to prop up their flagging egos. And… I am bored with the whole tedious and repetitive lot of it.
There is a whole world out there, a whole world of new stuff, and while it would be foolish to think I can wave a magic wand and change everything, I want to be able to look back and see a marked difference between what I did last year and what I do next year. It’s so easy to get sucked into other people’s lives and needs hereabout’s, there are so many queen bees (and a couple of kings) around who seem to need their egos constantly stroked. I am really starting to get fed up of it now, the constant dead man’s shoes of vested interests and proscribed ways of doing things. I’m going to try and focus on the world rather than the petty nonsense of whose on top of the anthill of st Leonards or Hastings. Why focus on a puddle when there is a whole ocean to be concerned with? I’m just getting so sick of seeing the same idiots do the same sodding stuff over and over again.
Ok, so what’s to do then? It’s all very well me writing this stuff but if that is all I am going to do then I will be as bad as the rest of them. And I guess that is why I am writing this, I need to stick my neck out, overreach and risk falling flat on my face maybe. Leave comfort zones and get out there a bit more because, whatever happens, I don’t want to look back and see and exact copy of the last year, life’s too short for that sort of crap.
I have plenty of fear… Who knows what horrors this toxic government will throw up but if I stop and think about than I shall become so paralysed with fear that it will swallow me whole. I’ve been there, done that and it solved precisely nothing. The thing is, how do you find that line between doing something rash and foolhardy and getting stuck in a rut and looking back at another identikit year? I guess I’ll see you back here in twelve months time and let you know.