#BeAlwaysTwentyOne – HUZZAH!

cooltext717196358   “Take a few off…” I said: to myself. (Wonders will never cease…)

“Void the brain of social media” [..secretly mocking what impending doom could result in the lack of, or, subsequent malaise of ‘..who cares’]

I am a sad git: a sedimentary one too, in case you’re wondering.

Look out..!! ‘South Down Man’ on the loose.

More like ‘Neanderthal Man Explores’ however. One thing though and this is not being churlish, when I lived in Spain: the amalgamated presence of ‘Brits’ was a good reason ‘NOT’ to go out on the prom. Walk on the other side of the road least your new friends – locals – get the wrong impression.

Since I’ve resolved not to pop off behind a wheel: not owning one, or even hiring one, my world’s my oyster-card – so as to speak. A ‘Busman’s holiday.’ So this year bundling all into a camper van – a semi-luxurious venture – was not an option.

I could take a static holiday i.e. go to one place for a set period and relive the tides of my childhood where and when every day was a new adventure, or move around. The latter made sense.

But hey, this really isn’t a holiday as you know it. Were that the case I’d be helping out at a local Iron Age dig before they let tides run rampage in a new whiz-bang idea of a sea retreat. Oh Time Team where are you, right up Phil’s woven fence street.

Add to that it’s just for a couple of weeks, what on earth could go wrong. Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha.

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So, with one option binned not even getting into the starting frame let alone a backwater thought, hostelries were put on standby. Plenty of course – at least I thought so. However, pure aghast!

The heady days of popping along to the idyllic village pub as one takes the rolling countryside before you is a hapless affair. Put simply, they’ve gone. Gone I tell you. Gone as the very transport needed to get me or you there.

But I shall seek the pub route, not in the towns or favoured resorts along the coast, been there done that. Well to most of them anyway.

The job is to find those odd ones, resemblant to a 30’s novel where dinner can be taken set times and afters – for bona fide residents – totally annoyed the locals unless you generously invited them to a snifter.

What indeed can a single pigeon do these days.

Well bugger this. I’m not playing tourist, certainly not in or on my own backyard. However, my backyard is somewhat of the limits of how far I can travel in a day, room and board and so on.

Well hapless it was. Chap only wants to recce a few locales with a view to put down roots, and you’re the ultimate alien.

I’m of the view now, you can’t just organise to stay the odd night  here or there unless you conform to absurd conventions and pre-set requirements.  I mean, who died and left ‘whom’ boss…!! So not on!

However, that’s not even the half of it.

It’s taken a fair few years for me to be a cantankerous middle-aged git, and idiosyncratic to boot. I was a middle-aged etc at twenty-one, come to think of it, I’ve always been twenty-one! I SHALL ALWAYS BE TWENTY-ONE. HUZZAH!!

One thing evidently transparent today, is whilst I work very well without one content to rely on an old-fashioned ‘mobile phone’, I now must accede to modernism and get a ‘Smartphone’ of some description. Bring on the kicking and screaming brigade. (Moi, never in a month of Sundays….don’t even think of it!)

Only went to look at properties, now see what you’ve done.

A purposeful task not needing anything other than prior arrangements being kept to. Then also there is the disconnected sense of transport in this country. I never had this problem when I used to open shops up and down the country, AND I used to stay at decent pub/hotels too.

Even I have to laugh at myself procrastinating and happy to stay at home only recently, but in my defence I WAS saying that from a sedimentary position of NOT needing to go abroad for a traditional get-away. Bring on ye trippers. Doom will happen come what may, invariably it does…and did.

Email holidays…ever such a good idea – pity I didn’t invoke the idea prior. As is a return to my own cooking. Save of two decent meals whilst on my travels. Perhaps I should have hired an RV…and a driver as well. Who’s being silly. We still have rationing despite what that nice Mr Macmillan said. So HELLO ALL, I’m back. I do so hope Mr William Hartnell improves in his new serial, I mean is he meant to talk to adults like he talks to children?

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