The Point - part 1

original picture : John Backland

          “Do you ever get that feeling of utter total pointlessness ? Do you ? That feeling of waking up in the morning, going to work, coming home, eating, drinking, shitting and then starting the whole cycle off again every bloody day – even days when you’re not working ? Pointless. No point doing anything at all after a while. The whole of human existence reduced to the fact that there really isn’t any need for us to be here at all.”

        

           Terry uncorked the second bottle of cheap red wine from the local shop. Jaz sat across from him, sprawled on the caravan’s faded sofa bed, slurping his way through another can of lager.

          The cooker was on to provide some heat, there wasn’t any other way in this ancient crumbling ‘van. It hissed like a perpetually pissed off snake and the slight smell of gas was alarming when you noticed it.

          Terry could have afforded a better ‘van but they were all out of action at this time of year, being repaired and re-sited ready for next season, this was the best that Morton, the site owner, could get for him at the moment. Even then he’d done it as a favour, ignoring his own notice at the top of the site stating ‘No singles’ in big black handwritten  letters. He made the exception for Terry, he didn’t really think he was the sort who was going to have late, loud drunken evenings.

          Jaz unzipped another can from the plastic and pulled open the top, small specks of foam spraying onto the tiny Formica table which was gradually filling with ash and ring pulls.

          “You sound depressed mate.”

          “Nah, it isn’t depression, that’s almost the most worrying part of it really. I get up and feel this utter sense of ‘why the fuck do I bother’ but carry on all the same. I wonder about it but it doesn’t get me down. I know it does some people, but that isn’t me really. Marie used to get completely floored by it and ended up being depressed for months on end, just staring at bleakness and wondering whether it was even worth going on to the next day. But me, well I stare at bleakness and it stares back, we shrug and then get on with it. But when it comes down to it – there really is no point much at all in my life.

            I’m not saying that some people don’t have a purpose – I mean that people who build stuff, people who produce stuff, they have some sort of point in a way. Even if it is all a bit fleeting in the grand scheme of things. But look at me – my last job was all about producing strategies and policy and supposedly improving people’s lives –  did it fuck? At the end of it I was convinced that if  I didn’t do my job, if no-one else did either, then no-one would be any better or any worse off. I felt like one of those guys you see in India – You been there haven’t you ?”

          Jaz nodded.

          “Yeah, well you know, one of those guys you sometimes get in the bigger shops in the cities. Their sole job seems to be to tear in half the receipts that the last person has given you seconds before….I mean, I understand why they’re there – its a way of upping the employment figures and keeping people occupied so that they don’t get hungry and riot. I daresay that bloke’s quite grateful for it. But in the end it's just that isn’t it – just keeping us occupied in that gap between birth and death. It’s all about social stability and fuck all to do with any sort of useful life.”

          Terry swigged back the contents of the tumbler in one go and poured another. He paused and lit a cigarette. Jaz looked at him through tired red eyes.

          “You do sound pretty down mate – you really do. I know what you mean though. Christ, sometimes it’s easier just to be one of the ignorant fuckers and not think about this sort of thing isn’t it. I mean, where the fuck does it get you ?”

          “Yeah.” said Terry, then added hopefully, “But you, you’ve got kids and all – that probably makes a difference, doesn’t it ?”

          “I used to think so….see Rosie’s seventeen now and Jack, he’s fifteen. When they come along – and I don’t pretend I’m the greatest all singing all dancing dad in the world, but I do OK – then you think that’s it, that you’ll do anything. I mean just about anything – to look after them, to protect them, to keep them safe and show them some sort of way of getting on with life themselves when they’re ready to. But I realised a while ago that it’s all a bit like you said I suppose. That you don’t have much purpose other than perpetuating things. It’s that Shellfish Gene…”

          Terry snorted so hard his wine spat out leaving a dark stain on his jeans.

          “What like a fucking mussel or something ? Christ you’ve been hanging out with too many fishermen !”

          He laughed again, ignoring Jaz’s attempts to correct himself.

          Jaz batted at him with the hand that didn’t have a can in it.

          “You know what I fucking mean,  just cause I live down here doesn’t make me so completely fuckin' ignorant of thing.” He laughed too, “Mind there’s a few of those blokes down at Newlyn last weekend that look like their dad shagged a giant clam.”

          Jaz  reached over to the cooker and turned the heat down slightly, the air was getting thick and making him sleepy. He sounded more serious now.

          “Look, you know what I mean – I mean, once you’ve had ‘em, the kids, then got them to the stage where they can look after themselves, well, what do you do then? I can have a good time and all that, have a laugh, have a drink and a smoke, get in the water. All that sort of thing. But when you think about it then what is it about?”

          “Yeah but doesn’t the having kids make that difference ? Isn’t there some sort of secret to it all ?”

          “Oh yeah, the secret is like anything that gets all consuming, it changes your focus, leastways it did mine. For a while then you’re so all consumed with it that you don’t look up and out, you’re too tired to in some ways, too scared to in others. Same as something like getting big into politics or deeply into religion – they kind of take over and just distract you from the big main question, which is still - what is the fuckin’ point ?”

          Terry’s face set more grimly. “Y’know that’s what I always envied about Joe. He had that Sri whotsit thing going - what was it ?”

          "Sri fuckin' Chimney or something. Little bloke, big on meditation and running wasn't he ?"  

          “That’s the one – now I don’t get it, never did, but Joe kind of bought into it. Well, not the running I guess, but he bought into the whole spiritual thing and he was kind of happy as a result. I wish I could get into that, but I never could. I even tried going to church for a while as a kid, didn’t see the point then, all seemed a bit simple to me even as a ten year old. If a ten year old can see that it seems to involve just another layer of people telling you what to do and asking for your hard earned then what hope has anyone got of convincing me now ?”

          “Aw you cynical fuck! Haven’t you ever felt like there was a point? And whilst we’re at it haven’t you got any food in this crappy caravan ?”

          Terry stood up and took two steps over to the kitchen cupboard. It smelt of damp and dust at the same time. The whole structure shifted slightly as he moved and for a second he felt like it might carry on moving, tip over and collapse around them. But it steadied. Terry wasn’t used to this any more – it had been nearly two decades since he’d spent long in a caravan. Recent years had seen him in villas and gites, none of this type of self-denying holiday accommodation – it was a way of scourging himself of recent years of luxury. He was too self conscious to think of it as getting back to his roots, but in a way it was. Like the surfing it was his only method of proving that he still could, no other reason and no-one but himself to prove it to.

Sail away.....

         

Secret Spot - part 1

original picture : John Backland

            Matt struggled into the pub, crutches hobbling every step. His leg bandaged from foot to knee with a serious looking strap across his ankle. His foot seemed to be at slightly the wrong angle but  no-one wanted to look at it too closely. His face looked tired and pale, at odds with the red and brown sun and wind blasted faces sitting quietly at the table in the corner. He seemed smaller and less confident than before the ‘incident’, less cocky, less himself.


          Jaz raised himself out of the wooden upright chair and swung it over to allow Matt to sit down, simultaneously grabbing a stool from by the bar to sit back on himself, towering over the others sipping their pints.


          Matt had been discharged from the hospital for a week or so, but this was the first time he’d been out since. He’d broken his foot, gashed his leg deeply and suffered from some mild exposure to the weather. His wetsuit had prevented him getting too cold too quickly that night on the cliff and the doctor said it had probably stopped him getting cold enough to go into some sort of shock through hypothermia. Even so, he was shaken, the others were rattled too. Victor had called up the hospital twice a day – feeling responsible for the whole thing, it was him who’d let them have the board and he felt bad despite everyone’s reassurances. For days after the cliff top drama everyone had spent their time up at the hotel, drinking coffee and waiting to hear what was going to happen with Matt. For a while it seemed like he might even lose his foot – it had taken a battering as he tried to get away from the rocks – and the rest of his friends had nothing much that they could do apart from band together and at least look after themselves. When the news came through, via Victor’s phone, that he was likely to be alright there was muted cheering. Muted because they still felt that they should have been more on the case. Then, when he came out he didn’t want to see anyone, didn’t want to be seen, his confidence and cockiness had evaporated and for a while no-one but his mother and father had been in to visit.


          Now it seemed that he was ready to face the world. He looked sheepish and uncertain, but the table fell uncharacteristically silent as he showed. He reached out, stiffly, formally almost, to Jaz first – shook his hand, trying to balance on the crutches and not fall over. Then Joe, then Dave and all around the table, whether people had been there on that night or not he knew at least that they were here now. It was Joe typically that broke the tension, as Matt reached out Joe sidestepped the handshake and gave him a full on hug – one of the crutches fell clattering to the floor and Matt toppled over into Joe's arms whether he liked it or not. A laugh rose from the table and Matt finally cracked a smile.


          "Get some drinks in Jaz, I can’t quite manage the tray at the moment…" He paused, "But I reckon that its fair pay back – thanks mates"


          A few mumbles came from the group about not needing any reward and that seeing him was reward enough, Jaz punctured this self effacement abruptly,


          "Fair pay back – you fucker !" He laughed loud, "So that’s free drinks for the rest of my life then is it ? That sounds about fair !"


           "If I could…." Matt tailed off and Jaz looked at him, reassuring him he was joking, although there was some truth in it all.


          "Sit down there you bloody crip, What you having ?", Jaz wasn’t about to become caring and sharing all in one go.


          They sat and slowly they started to talk about what had happened – piecing together the different angles and stories until there was some sort of coherent whole, even when disagreements and exaggerations were taken into account. Jaz was noticeably quiet whilst all this went on. He seemed to have taken on the role of Matt’s protector and kept on getting up to get more drinks in as the afternoon wore on and their sense of time wore off. When it came to him to tell his part of the story he was brief and reticent – no-one pressed him and no-one wondered why he was less than his usual loud gobby self.


          It was a while before the crowd thinned and left just the four of them, Matt, Joe, Dave and Jaz, sitting in one of the darker corners of the pub. It was Joe who turned the conversation ‘round to the cliffs again.


          "Jaz – y’know about that cave…" he ventured hesitantly, "the one over on the cliffs where you saw Matt…?"


          "Yeah," replied Jaz, tired now of the never ending piecing together of events and desperate for another topic of conversation, "What about it ?"


          "Reckon we should go and have a look at it sometime ?"


          "You’re fucking mad – I nearly got myself killed last time – you too for that matter."


          Matt was nonplussed, it was the first he’d heard of the cave.


          "No but, I was thinking."


          "Careful…" Jaz responded almost entirely out of habit.  Joe ignored him and carried on.


          "No – I know it might seem a bit daft but I kept thinking about it – like how come we ain’t seen it before and how long’s it been there?"


          "Been there for bloody hundreds of years probably," Jaz countered, "and we ain’t seen it because no-ones been stupid enough to go near it before – that and it’s all covered with bushes half way up a fucking huge cliff face."


          "Yeah but….." Joe’s voice dropped, "I know it’s daft but I wondered if there might be something in it ? Y’know, like all the time people go on about there being wrecks and smugglers and all that around here – you said it was pretty dry in there, maybe there’s something in it ?"


          "Yeah dead seagulls and all the usual crap that gets washed around on a storm tide probably." Dave spoke up for the first time.


          "Nah, too high up for that." Jaz reasserted himself, "It was pretty dry tho – not much in it that I could make out, mind it was dark and we did have other things on our plates at the time." He nodded dismissively at Matt who was sitting there looking tired and taking no part in the conversation.


          "That’s what I mean – if its dry then there might be something worth looking at. I mean, Victor’s always gone on about there’s supposed to have been a tunnel into the hotel cellar from somewhere down on the beach, so why not have a look ?"


          "What is this – famous fuckin’ five go down a cliff ? Come on Joe – it ain’t Kirrin Island out there in the bay. It’s a hole in some rock, that’s all."


          "Still, wouldn’t mind a look." Joe was smiling at the put down – truth is it was all a bit Enid Blyton and secretly he still kind of believed in the promise of adventure, not that he’d admit that to Jaz. He sank the remains of his pint quite definitively and put his empty down in the middle of the table, as much a statement of intent as his next words.


           "I’m going to give it a look. Thursday’s my next day off, no-one’s even about on the beach at this time of year. Who’s coming ?"


          Jaz couldn’t bear to be outmanoeuvred, "OK then, I’ll knock off at about 4.30 – that OK ? Just remember that I found it first and if it is stuffed with the treasure of the Sierra Madre then it’s mine. OK?" He grinned, borne along on Joe’s ideas, he quietly wondered if there might be something worth investigating. "You need someone strong to hold the rope anyway, you’re too fat. Can you get a car up there ? I don’t fancy a repeat performance of the other week."


          "Should do – what about it Dave?"


          Dave had access to their mum’s car, Joe was banned from using it at the moment since he hit a sheep on the road outside the village. The sheep had been okay but the car bore the marks.


          Dave agreed. Matt groaned.


          "You’ll have to do it without me then – no good having a pair of crutches up there, even if I did fancy revisiting the evil bastard place. You going to tell Victor ?"


          "Christ no !" said Joe, "He’d kill us – even for thinking about it he’d kill us. Anyway…."


          "Anyway what ?"


          "He’s away – he’s going up country to visit some woman he met over the summer – crafty sod, didn’t tell anyone but I heard him on the ‘phone the other day, he’s got a lot of secrets has Victor."


          The rest of the table looked quietly impressed – and pleased – much as Victor could scare the hell out of them when he was on fire they all reckoned that he should have something more than the hotel in his life. He deserved it.


          With plans made they drifted by mutual consent to the doors of the pub. The barman opened them from the inside, it was well towards midnight now. Matt hobbled through as they discussed Victor’s likelihood of ever getting off with someone, at his age, and they parted in the car park, Jaz and Matt heading one way up the hill whilst Joe and Dave wound their way unsteadily downhill and across the bay, before disappearing into the darkness of the far side of the village. A badger wandered over to where they’d been standing and sniffed at the breeze, sand swirled across the tarmac and rain threatened in the cooling air.

Give it a listen....go on !