When asked why he wasn’t in a hurry to leave, the character Conway, in James Hilton’s Lost Horizon, answers, ‘Because I like being here’. Being here. Being happy to just be here. Anywhere. Just happy to be anywhere. It is a simple desire. If indeed, it is a desire (desire implies something energetically yearned for). It is more an acceptance. A spirited willingness to just be where one finds oneself – wholeheartedly and without resistance.
Can I say this about being here? Sometimes. More than I thought I could. One thing I do know however, is that when I can I am content.
The streetlight is working again. I am glad. Doris, the woman he speaks to in Aberaeron when he calls up with his weekly report says that it is something to do with the sensor. A branch from an overhanging tree apparently is meddling with sensor and they will have to get permission from the landowner before they can do anything about it. We’ll just have to get you up the ladder, won’t we, Doris? He says to her down the phone. She laughs, suddenly caught out, though she still calls him Mister.
A hearse drove past us carrying a wicker coffin. It looked so beautiful. A gentle bier. A flowery basket. It stopped me still.
I told the truth yesterday. I was nervous beforehand. Nauseous even. I took in a deep breath and just said it. I didn’t think about judgement. At least not then. Not till after really. It just had to be said. Articulated. I felt better. One always does. When I told him what I’d said I thought he’d be angry. But no. He said he would support me. So there. There we are. I have set it in motion. We shall see. We shall see. Won’t we?