Ever since I discovered that there were people in the world that actually subscribed to this site, I have felt obliged to update this more often. Point is, recently my nomadic branding has been a bit of a sham.
I have just eaten my supper, jacket potato with cheese from a tray on my lap. It’s icy outside and even inside I have on a thick jumper and slippers. The gentle hum of the dryer tells me my upstairs windows are steaming up and the cat is tightly curled next to me and gently purring. The television is on to keep me company (the one where the nomad stops moving), and I generally feel like a comfortable, settled person, for whom wandering outside to deposit my empty cans and bottles into the recycling box is a venture. Nothing like a nomad at all. In fact, aside from lurking around Westminster and exploring the full length of the M6 motorway, I haven’t been far lately (nothing since the stan).
However, I have time travelled (I don’t mean turning the clocks back an hour last weekend causing the usual confusion). And I thought I would muse on that for a moment. Mainly compliments of Facebook, I have been contacted by a flurry of old school friends. It’s viral, and fuelled by idol curiosity, but as someone who rarely looks back and isn’t the least bit nostalgic (I know, it is an issue) I have been phenomenally reflective about it all. You see, when I left Bristol over 20 years ago, I sort of thought that everyone stayed where they were. If ever I go back there I still look at teenagers thinking I might know them. Now I discover that my former school pals are lawyers, doctors, actors, photographers, even porn stars (you know who you are), and I also discover that they don’t all live in Bristol.
So, it’s all good. Us Fairfieldians are an attractive, cosmopolitan bunch. Up until the point that one of them becomes a grandparent. Then it just feels odd, because IN MY MIND I am still a 14 year old hanging out in Mad Harry’s amusement arcade in Broadmead, and smoking up the lane with Theresa and Lesley. I am still passing my Dutchi on the Left Hand Side and I am still scared of Miss Ace. So GRANDPARENT? Nooooooo. I think it’s time I went somewhere again before I start thinking about this too hard. I am off to a Mediterranean island next month, and I think I have taken this inertia far enough.