A series of acceptances

 

Subject: A series of acceptances.

Having money has never bothered me, not having it has. 

It's always viewed in perspective of course, when you were young and full of optimism, something would turn up as ones individual needs were pretty slight. I never considered wealth as an aim, it was what some people had, usually manifest in the houses they lived in or the cars they drove, but other than a fleeting desire to own a big house or drive a nice car,  I never placed much store on being wealthy. "Living it large" as they say, posh hotels, glitzy resorts, exotic lifestyle has never drawn me, it must be bound up in some sort of genetic parsimony having been raised in Yorkshire where the social interconnection between working class people was enough. 

Ruled by a dream of 'acceptance' which was partly a source of happiness and part it's undoing, the moment was enough, the friendship, a kiss at the bus stop and the pungent smell of fish n chips as one wandered the final hundred yards home to the front door of 91 was by itself enough of a satisfying accomplishment.  Uncomplicated by plans, other than the arrangement to meet up, plans were to me an anathema, so many things could go wrong and so many 'spur of the moment' opportunities lost in the web of planning. The best laid plans of mice and men, ga oft astray, as Robert Burns would say. Man is more prone to disappointment by scurrying after riches and not recognising the riches he already has. 

That's not to say one didn't progress through life doing the things people do.  Looking around, experiencing what's on offer around the world, a much more simple world in those days run at a slower pace where one absorbed change by osmosis not the 24 hour transplant we experience today as we board a plane in the rain of London and emerge Into the hot bright sunlight of Brisbane or Karachi . We absorbed the changes slowly when taken on board a moderately sized ship, meeting and making friends. We saw the sights of our school geography book in the flesh, the amazing contrasts between the country we had left behind and these new countries peopled by the bustle and noise of the souk or bazaar, the apparent lack of order, the constant bartering where nothing seemed as it was. This new world was revealed slowly  seen through the telescope of a ship moving slowly retaining on board its established order and security and yet revealing the pictures we carried in our head of history seen by colonial writers of yesteryear.

Eventually reality hits home and destinations arrived. The luggage, rescued from piles  of other cases on the quayside and the reality of finding somewhere to stay the night after the cosseted life onboard the ship. 

Not having a bubble to hide in made those first days both exciting as well as daunting. When I look back from the staid security of my home it was an experience which stressed the infinite capability we all have for adapting and making do, it made me more sure that "playing it by ear" was the way for me. Even today I'm happy without an itinerary, without a pre booked destination. I remember once setting off without any idea of where I would land up other than turning left or right at road junctions without a map but happy in the thought that no matter where I did end up would be ok.

I suppose my life has been like that, a series of happy acceptances.