Not much energy to wield the old keyboard for too long but felt I just needed to pinpoint some hopeful glimmerings starting to appear in-between the ups and downs of the turmoil and pressure-cooker extravaganza that passes for my sojourn in this particular incarnation.
First thing today I caught up with some dear friends at my new local, a lovely cafe which is fast shaping up as a much prized hub for surf dudes & dudettes, the interminable dog walkers, the slightly older comfortable crowd, and Muggins.
As I am still trying to get on with this new drug regime and can easily get caught out and freeze up when I least expect it, I then had to head home to rest up.
And, a bit later as the sun had returned in its full majesty, I thought I’d just shuffle on down to the beach. Armed with merely a handful of coins in my threadbare pocket, I was hoping maybe they could yet see me organise a small chips from the Surf Club.
The door was locked so either the joint was shut or there was a function going on.
As I turned around thinking I’d better get back home as the meds were starting to wear off, who should I see getting out of his car but O. – one of this world’s all time good guys as well as manager without equal in charge of the cafe at Wamberal Surfers.
“Hey, Richard! How are you? Are you back?! You look much better. But you’re leaving it late,” said O. referring to my failed attempt to gain access to the premises.
It was so good to be welcomed in this way, impossible to explain all that had happened since the last time I’d seen him.
I never really expected to see O. and all those other lovely kind people around here ever again.
However, moments later Muggins had taken a seat in the sunshine at a nice picnic table in the adjacent Shoe Rugby Park, sipping from a supersized free long black ( ‘No Richard, my shout!’ ).
With so much good will around, I can’t help but starting to feel a smidgen more homeful – hopeful this place that almost slipped from my grasp – and still could – might actually become that haven for the harmed hearts, that sanctuary for the ones who don’t or can’t fall in line with the onerous generalised demands of everyday society’s marching rhythm.
Or just a place for my friends and family as well as my adoring growing Ricardian guard of Amazonian bodyguards and myself to Relax at long last.