The Linnet

Well, It was fantastic. I would say exactly what I thought it would be, but that would be a dis-service. I was having the time of my life in this beautiful place and I had no intention of my adventures coming to an end anytime soon, My open travel ticket was still valid, but I was very close to haemorrhaging the puny savings in my groaning bank account. Still, I had enough for my food and drinks and my clothes were clean so I saw no rush to get home. Not to that mind numbing job and those awful people. They can shove it. I'll get another job when I get home. In fact, I might never even go home. So there. That is that. I'm not living like a drone anymore.

So, with that said, where to then? Well, off I went on the underground rail system, while I still had a week on the pass to use up before I had to eat into my screaming funds. I crossed the border out of one country and hopped over into the next one. Culture, I wanted. New things. New people. New outlooks. I wasn't going to find that where I was, doing what I was doing. I was not fussy where I slept. There was usually a hostel or a bed and breakfast place, and a lot of the people in these magnificent countries were so much more naturally friendly than where I lived.

Friendliness, a dying art.

These folk here, did not glance up from glowing screens and grunt at you. They didn't flash a beaming sharp smile and then let you catch a flicker of disgust as they turned away. Not here. I knew I could be pessimistic at times. My Grandfather had said to me "Never expect anything of anybody and you'll never be disappointed." Grandma had told him to 'Give over, not everyone's like that.' He raised his eyebrows and went back to his book.

Like my Grandfather, I had seen nothing to convince me not to be in recent years. So I booked it, packed it and.. Well, you know the rest! I did not want to be treading water anymore in a swimming pool full of screen staring sheep. I was drowning in technology. A world of celebrity television, vile creatures being lauded as inspirational. False news, true news that gets airbrushed from history or deleted by fact checkers. Who appointed the fact checkers?

"That bloody book's changed you." Said a friend in reference to my reading of gEorge Orwell's 1984. I had realised that this stuff was already inside me. He was just articulate enough to erm.. Articulate it! Forward thinking enough and clever enough to see what was coming.

My neck was beginning to crane and my phone holding hand was developing into a gripping claw. There were pictures on the internet of what human posture will be like in the future, given the way we are heading. Is it all scaremongering or wild imaginiation? I was not so young as I was and I felt myself drifting into an unsatisfying and addictive routine. Something in my being nagged and manifested physically as a pang or a stone left unturned on my journey through life thus far.

I had started to think about the things I had not done, The exciting plans I had made as a child. What I was going to do. Who I was going to become. Full of ideas but with very little action in my young adulthood. And here I was, talking about the weather and trudging to and fro, trying to be a decent citizen as per the guidelines. I mean, I never thought I would become an astronaut or a world leader. No, but as I crept into and towards the exit door of middle age, I felt more frequently, these pangs in my chest and stomach. My friend joked about bad take away being the cause or too much beer.

I had tried not to roll my eyes. He didn't understand me. He was away with his own journey, but beginning to grate on my nerves, turning everything into a joke unless it was about himself. Then I was to sit and listen intently for hours on end. That's what friends do, I knew that but I felt underappreciated, undervalued and swept under the carpet. A counsellor had told me, my cynicism could be down to low self esteem and he was right. But wallowing in it had not been the answer. I had lost myself in hazes of booze and long dragged out spells of isolation. Watching reruns of sport events or music videos from my so called halcyon days.

I was looking back too much, thinking the best part of my life was over and to be happy again was to ignore the here and now, and continually reminisce over my wasted youth. Wasted being the operative word. My attempted reboots of the 'Fuck it.' days, usually ended very badly. The hamster wheel was rusting. I had to get off or erode along with it.

I had to wake up and do things myself, for myself and stop expecting some divine process of osmosis to manifest in my lap. I had to get out there. Why should I have any right to a great life? I had done nothing to deserve one, save procrastinate. Some have had it better than me, some far, far worse. I wanted to take some risks, make some decisions and stick to them.

So I had. I left my job on the Friday, telling my boss I would 'See you on Monday..' Waving and flashing the same thinly veiled smile through gritted teeth that they always gave me when I refused overtime. I cheerily bade them farewell and reeled off family commitments that I did not have. Not a smile of job satisfaction, but because I knew I was never going to see those toads ever again.

'Don't kid a kidder.' My Grandfather would have said.

'Live your own life. Play them at their own game. Take your money and run lad. Get outside and have some fun.'

So that was it. I booked a flight to a beautiful looking place but not your obvious choice, packed my bags and headed to the airport. It was a freedom I had never felt before. I could hear people saying 'What about your job? Your home? Your responsibilities?' My responses were unprintable. To the chagrin of some and the 'About time!' of others. I landed in my first country of choice and went from there. I became hooked. I chose it because of the abandoned castle and the wooden built houses and the enticing stews that were the local delicacy. I did no intense research.

During my travels, I'd stayed with a married couple, renting a room for an extra income for decorating their closely approaching new baby's room. I stayed on the docks with a fisherman who was mostly at sea. He cooked some mean Sea Bass and Cod on his return. I helped clean the boat for food and a bed. A few nights were spent above a Bakers shop, from which my weight escalated after guzzling fabulous pastries, cakes and lavish breads. I worked on a farm in exchange for two meals a day and a sleeping bag in the barn.

I chastised myself momentarily now. If only I had had this courage earlier in my life! Still, as is the popular saying 'It is what it is.'

Someone had said to me many years ago.. "What's to stop you?"

I had reeled off all the things that I was now walking away from. My job, my home, my responsibilities. My reputation as a decent hardworking person. Did I want to follow those unwritten rules and then die when my time came though?

Another had said when I asked his opinion "We live and then we die, the end. What you do in between won't make any difference." He then went back to his beer and TV.

I tried a new motto 'We live and then we live. Then we die fulfilled.' My mate had said 'Go and do it then.' He tapped my forehead and said 'That's the thing with you mate. All the gear, no idea. Stop talking and go do it.'

So far it had worked. Though it wasn't all sunshine, ice cream and sugar sand. Some nights I had to sleep in bus depots, airport lounges, doorways. I was sometimes berated as a tramp by cackling booze filled commuters. I wondered how the perennially homeless coped. Some threw bits of change at me that I had not asked for.

Sometimes the odd jobs and my savings would buy me a more cosy roof for a few nights. I did not regret it. Though I did prefer a bed and the warmth. The fact was I was 'living' now, rather than just towing the line and existing. Worrying about what people thought.

I had decided I shall no longer work for those with an inflated opinion of the sound of their own voices. I was trained to nod, smile and agree vehemently whilst absolute drivel poured from their programmed brains, and came out through their mouths, with scant evidence of any intelligence to back up their attention seeking bleating. I was weary also of some of the shallow buffoons, who were dismissive of the feelings of the people who worked for them, and their many unrecognised qualities. Nice slogans were pinned on the staff room notice board to boost morale and absolve them of their nastiness and ridiculous expectations for meagre pay at best.

Politics, news, newspapers, gossips, keyboard warriors. It squashed my spirit flat. The internet and its fat bastard moguls pedalling products that led to addiction and making icons out of the insane or sex crazed. I had seen Zombie films with better behaved citizens than I saw from these overly hyped nutcases on the television I had since thrown off my balcony. It was worth being arrested and fined for.

Nothing would change, so I had to. And I did.

So, munching down a fortifying bowl of beef stew from a pop up street food vendor, I had hopped on the train and hurtled over the border. No passport needed, I just flashed my ticket and away I went. Out into another new city and another hundred miles from the mundane, steady, bill paying, budgeting, life of drudgery that I was supposed to be grateful for but I no longer wanted.

I just loved the cobbled streets here and the coloured houses and quaint hotels and guest houses. The boats on the dock, outdoor markets selling all manner of local produce and hand crafted souvenirs. There was a band playing rock and roll in the town square. I couldn't understand the language but they sounded great. The guitar solo was something else. I got that warm rush of blood you get every so often. Sheer contentment. It was so slow. Slow and satisfying. People said 'Please' and 'Thank you' and did not push and shove to get to the reduced section of groceries. Turning feral every Christmas. Having been indoctrinated from late August.

There was no checking my watch, no appointments, no bills to pay, no pressure to go out when I don't want to. No selling credit to get people into debt to get my bonus. A pat on the back and a few extra piddling coins, while some poor soul is paying for four years for some badly made, shitty piece of equipment that none of the staff thought any good.

To be honest, I was giving myself permission to absolve myself of responsibilities and to hell with the repercussions. Its about time I did what I wanted to do.

No good sitting bolt upright in palliative care shouting "I have wasted my innings. I have pissed away my life. played it too safe.. If only I had.." And then dying mid sentence.

So no more would I be answerable to the tyrannical management of two bit stores playing at something else in their closed minds. Nor the local gossip-mongers whose sole objective on a daily basis was to natter about the faults of others. To trash people they knew not a fucking thing about. Be it dress sense, job, lifestyle, where you were going, hobbies. I had heard them berating one younger man about him being a slob and that he never worked. He must be drunk all the time because of the way he walked.

It was later found out that he was dying of cancer and had no family or friends to visit him. But, one person had told another their opinions, the next person told the next and the poor soul dying of cancer had been transformed into the town alcoholic with no job or wife, and was it any wonder and it must be nice to just sit drinking beer and watching television all day before they reeled off their own 'Salt of the earth' stories about each other. I used to boil up inside. Now, I walked away. I had slowly let them fade away from my thoughts and left them behind twitching curtains or telling lies over fences. They would go quiet when you walked past. Now I no longer walked past.

They ARE the past. As a youngster I may, just may have smashed their windows. Now, I was content to watch a loose dog shitting on their lawns. Good boy.

Time to get my bearings. I'm in the square in a new city. Enough for a night or two in the bank but I mustn't lunge for the nearest place and act like a tourist. I had found that wearing souvenir hats and t shirts was like advertising 'Here comes a fool with money.' or paying for goods with notes, that was another one I was wary of now.

'That bastard's got nine quid change there..'

You could almost hear the thoughts of local opportunists. So, I took to wearing pullovers and jogging bottoms and a flat cap. Nondescript. Dull. Not worth approaching. Now, I was hardly ever asked to buy things or asked if I was interested in getting a great deal. My answer had been 'Yes, I am interested in getting a great deal. A great deal of things interest me. Being ripped off is not one of them.'

It was my little quirk. I think I was becoming slightly mad. They rarely understood my accent and by the time I'd finished babbling at them, they usually shrugged and off they'd go muttering about the crazy foreigner. It made me smile.

This place here looked about right to me though, as I strolled a bit further out of the hustle bustle and found myself by a quiet canal. It had run right through the city which I found quirky and enticing, but I walked further away from the buzzing centre as much as I enjoyed the metropolitan side of my tour, I craved peace and tranquillity at night. Here was a barge with a sign on the window.

'For hire. The cosy old Linnet. One Bed, Cooker, Portable T.V. Peaceful. Enquire within.'

As a Black Swan glided down the still waters and small fish jumped for gnats, and Kingfishers with sharp eyes studied the small fish jumping for gnats, I looked up at the yellowing sun, it was beginning to get ready to roost.

'Hmm. I think I'd better get ready to roost myself.' I thought. So I had a look through the window of the barge. Red, white and blue in colour and shall I say.. a 'Distressed' theme to the paintwork? No, lets be honest. Its not had a lick of paint since 1982. Nevertheless, rustic is my thing. It looked like I would be stepping back into my youth after all. Dutch pottery adorned the windows of the boat, reminding me of my Great Nanna. I leaned closer to The Linnet, hoping to get the attention of the writer of the sign.

"Hello?.. Hi.. I'm here to enquire about renting the boat for a few nights?" I ventured to nobody in particular. No-one was on deck. Sometimes on canals, a stove would be on or a dog would be enjoying the breeze or a tell tale deck chair and flask would be on the bank, or sports commentary would crackle on the radios by the boats. Nothing here though.

One last try.. "Hello..?"

A small, nimble shadow flashed past the window and I jumped a little. From the tiny door to the interior of the barge, named 'The Linnet', emerged a small, Gnomish looking man with round spectacles, a cane and a hooked nose and a broad, welcoming smile. He gave an infectious chuckle as he saw me.

"Welcome traveller, by all means welcome. I had heard you approach but was in the middle of cooking my revered borsch meatball soup. Very well received round these parts you know! Come about the old Linnet then have you my lad?"

"Er, yes I have Sir, I need a place to sleep for a few nights while I look around the city and think about what to do."

The Gnome put his hand out to offer a hearty handshake.

"Ah, yes I remember that part of your life.." He said cryptically.

"Excuse me?" I answered, confused as to what the Gnome was referring to.

"Pay it no heed traveller, not by any means. Yes, we all need to think about what to do. Especially when seizing life by the scruff of the neck in a strange new place eh? By all means, come aboard, my weary friend. The mist descends soon upon these waters at this time in the early eve. The boat is in a well known spot here. Idyllic, some say. You may come and go as you please. I shall take no payment. I only came up today to see that the old girl had not sunk!"

The Gnome cackled infectiously. Though it did not fill me with confidence!

"Sunk?" I asked him.

"My little joke. Pay no heed. Come aboard, I will take your knapsack, as it were. The bedding is warm and clean. Everything has locks on and well, I shall leave you some of this stew of plenty, unless of course, you do not care for such tastes. No, I recall you liking good, hearty food..?"

"You recall what?" Why was he talking as though he knew me? Well, the little fellow was getting on in years. He seemed friendly enough and the quaint looking barge looked inviting as the Rook's swirled and the Starlings began to murmurate at the onset of dusk.

"Oh no.. I mean.. Yes, the stew sounds lovely. Smells great. Please, let me offer you some payment though, I won't feel comfortable taking your accommodation like this."

"By no means!" He exclaimed vociferously.

"Where you hail from, excuse me.. Where I hail from, pieces of paper and round metal objects carry no value my friend. It looks like you will need your resources more than I, if you are not going back to your sullen place of work after your trip?" Said the Gnome fellow.

"Yes, I suppose you a.. Whoa! Hang on a second. How did you know that about me?" I took a step back.

"Written all over your face my friend, by all means. Seen it all before, can't blame you. The treadmill that is life eh! You got out before you were sucked into the void. The matrix, as it were. We only realise that life is our own to do as we choose and not to fit in with a template and be what we are expected to be when we are, how did you think it now?..

Ah, that's it.. 'Sat bolt upright while in palliative care shouting if only..' before erm.. Well.. Dying!" He smiled and chuckled again. He had read my mind this Gnome like person.

"A very er.. cynical synopsis with a dash of the unfulfilled morose, for one with so much life ahead, if you do not mind me saying?"

"Well yes, I mean, no.. but this is both fascinating and creepy at the same time to me Sir. I'm now not sure I should stay. How do you know these things about me. You speak with familiarity Sir?"

"Ah, understood. My extra sensory perception can, how would you say it at this stage of my life? Ah, yes.. 'Freak people out.' Nonetheless, come aboard The Linnet, you know her well. Or you will, in time.." That cackle again.

"We shall talk soon enough. It will all fall into place. Your coming here was preordained you see. Ah, but dusk approaches my friend. The stew is ready. I shall brief you on what to expect from this city and its.. Folk.. As it were."

I was in a bit of a daze but also I was tiring so I climbed aboard the colourful Linnet, and followed the eccentric little man inside, I must admit it was warm and homely, candlelit and welcoming and the food smelled divine after another full days travel.

The water sloshed softly against the sides of the barge and through a small window you could see a hillside underneath the moon as owls hooted. I had to admit, it was inviting inside and out despite this strangely intuitive other worldly fellow, who now beckoned to me to rest.

"By all means be seated my younger self-friend, I will tell you how this place is unlike any other. At least, in this universe.. For you my friend, have stumbled upon.. The two ways home.."

I felt it now. This was not a place of my time.

The Gnome was me.

Andrew Evans © 2023