Walkabout

Being unemployed does get repetitive sometimes. I get up around lunchtime. Doss about on the sofa for a while. Sometimes I walk up the highstreet, but there's not really much I want to buy. A few days ago however I went into the Cancer Shop to have a look. They normally have a good selection of VHS tapes at 50p each.

I walked over to the corner where the video shelf was, tilted my head and scanned through them. Not a lot today. Then I noticed a book on the next shelf along. On the cover was a picture of a man with a moustache who looked like he'd put his trousers on his head and wrapped the legs around his neck. He also appeared to be wearing a huge fur ruff.

'My Life as an Explorer' was written underneath and the authors name.

'Sven Hedin' I said as I picked it up. Nice name.

I looked on the first page and 75p was very neatly written in pencil in the top right corner. I flipped through a bit and there were even some drawings.

'Done' I said and went to pay. I dropped the 25p change into the 'karma box' and felt thoroughly pleased with myself.

When I got home I made some toast and then sat back on the sofa with the book. I stayed that way all afternoon, and then into the evening. It was great. This guy had been all over. Adventuring through the mountains, discovering lost cities, you name it.

I carried on reading well into the night. I got a text from Jon asking if I wanted to come over for a smoke and some playstation but I didn't even reply.

I'd just been reading a bit where he was travelling through the desert and all his companions had died of thirst but he carried on and on, following signs of life until he could barely walk and his pulse had all but stopped, and then suddenly found a lake and was saved. Man.

-

That night I dreamt that I was in the desert and went on an amazing adventure.

-

When I woke up I was pretty disappointed to be back in my bedroom I can tell you. Just like every morning, the sun was already high in the sky and most people had been at work for hours.

Then I started thinking. Where can I go to experience the solitude of the desert?

After a while I remembered the old shopping centre. It had been the best thing ever in it's day. Everyone went there. After a few years people started saying that it was sinking, then before we knew what happened it had closed for good. It was sinking apparently. It was build on marshland. I'd hate to be that red-faced architect! Anyway, I used to go out there to doss about with my mates when I was younger. There is a massive car park in front of it. It's endless. It's completely empty now of course. Even the shopping centre was destroyed a few years ago. Perfect.

I took the bus up there and even managed to avoid paying by jumping though the back doors. That'll be the good karma coming back at me. When I got there I stepped off the bus and walked along the fence to the main gates. Just next to them there is a big hole in the fence and it's easy to climb through. I walked past the empty car park attendant's booth. The last vestige of civilisation. From then on it was just me and the car park.

It was a sunny day. That was good. The tarmac was warm. The whole car park was criss-crossed with grids of faded white lines and occasional lamp posts. It was dusted with broken glass and odd bits of metal. Nothing could grow here.

I wandered on. I was already starting to feel thirsty.

I noticed that over to the left of the car park, way in the distance, there was a long chain of semi-detached houses.

I kept on walking, with my feet patting the dusty tarmac.

After a while I felt like sitting down and started looking out for a good spot. Over to my right I saw a wooden crate lying on the floor next to a lamp post. I walked over and sat down. The lamp post was huge and had multiple lamps pointing out in different directions.

I sat and listened to the silence. Actually, at first I could hear a car alarm going off somewhere near the road, but then it stopped and I was left with only the sound of the wind blowing the dust around.

Some other bits of rubbish were wafting about as well.

At one point an empty crisp packet drifted past me, its ripped side open like a sail.

I sat there for quite a while. 20 minutes I suppose. Sven Hedin spent months and months exploring the desert. I imagine after a while the serenity of it sinks into you, just as the sand gets into the roots of your hair. That's when it becomes a spiritual place I guess.

I didn't really get it myself though. To be honest I'd spent half of that time writing texts to Jon and Doug to see if they wanted a smoke later. It was always good to get out a bit anyway wasn't it.

What an advneture. Splendid.