Happy the man who, like Ulysses, has made a fine voyage, or has won the Golden Fleece, and then returns, experienced and knowledgeable, to spend the rest of his life among his family!
-Joachim Du Bellay, Sonnet de Regrets
Should the fact that when one walks into the wind your hair does not move with the oncoming Welsh gale but in fact tilts your whole head back at a forty five degree angle bother you? Or do you content yourself with the fact that baring a direct strategic nuclear strike on your forehead everything is in fact well, with the world that you inhabit and exist in.
But I digress this is not a mere story of a bouffant that launched a thousand ships or a marketing memo that demonstrates Este Lauders’ profit margins for the last 20.5 yrs. This is a story of a fringe that accompanied a man on a journey that encompassed more than a dozen countries, four lifetimes and self doubt. To eventually encompass and yet dodge a cliché was more than four weddings and more than one funeral.
So where does one start the journey that is not a destination, at the start one would shout logically, but as we have found what the fuck has logic got to do with anything? Let us try to sort and gather and move in a linear progression towards the answer, but let us not forget to stop at the rest stops along the way and get a full English or at least a few packets of Walkers to keep the kids happy.
How soon is now? Now there’s a concept and also a statement of time that can or cannot be related to, depending on whether it is now and what in fact you are waiting to happen. I was a man starting on an inexorable voyage that would end in a realization that all was not well with the world and that changes needed to be envisioned.
At that point the house lights came up, embarrassed looks were exchanged and alcohol brought couples together for what would most probably be the first and last date in a line of one night stands. It was alright though cause tonight was Friday and they would all do it again tomorrow. Right now decisions had to be made. Kebab or chips for those on foot, your place or mine for those who had hit it off or finally, home or queuing for a club for those that hadn’t had enough yet.
Louis you are Dominic...Can u guess who the blonde is?
Later in Chapter 4
Dominic drew heavily on his silk cut and launched into the next track whilst scanning the crowd for potential groupies, thinking to himself that the crowd would love the next track.
“Woo Cobham this one’s called Strap On!”
Ohhh strap it on lah lah lah
With your legs in the air
Strap it on strap it on!
The chorus belted out from the speakers and Dom’s attention was taken by a lithe little blonde who was talking to a group of fit looking individuals that were smiling and chatting to each other in a booth.
Tomorrow may never come
But you will my dear
Strap it on! Strap it on!
Oh Yeah, strap it onnnnn!
The song climaxed along with the crowd and the band came down the side steps of the stage towards the bar and the well needed slaking of thirst that ever band needs whilst conquering the world!
Dancing laughing Drinking loving And now I’m all alone In bedsit land My only home
The bondage night, Vicar and Tart combo evening mix up at the Drunken Ferret hadn’t turned into a disappointment and was just reaching the interesting phase of the night when Jilted Boyfriend took to the stage in what was now a rather drunk, strap and wimple clad, pub. The tarts were trying to get some attention from their dates, but the vicar’s seemed more intrigued by the leather, gag and tied up crowd near the stage.
“Good evening Walton-on-Thames!” came the rousing welcome from Jonny B as he strode onto the dimly lit stage.
“Er Jonny, we’re in Cobham mate, Walton was Tuesday,” this from Dom, the bands bass player.
“Close enough,” Jonny countered as the proverbial tumble weed rolled across the dessert of the dance floor. “Fek it, this one’s called I’m Not Bitter!”
The band erupted into the first chords with all the enthusiasm of a group of zombies who find an all you can eat brain buffet fifteen minutes after the virus hits.
She says it ain’t big enough, she says I don’t last long