The Dawning

We soon got over the shock of our new situation, hitting the ground at a dawdle we groped around feeling our way cautiously, tasting, sniffing, stroking every material interface. Mentioning interfaces though thinking mostly of getting intimate with the inanimate, I recall we had humans to deal with as well. We had two residents. People we didn’t actually know living with us in what we thought of as our house. One was a young engineer working locally on a lengthy project and the other a rather strange Danish person. Physically he was a rugged individual, stocky with a large squarish head and flattish nose. Apparently, he was financed by Danish social services; a pension or some such entitlement, and we soon realised when his payments arrived, as he then stood at the bar and sampled each of the many liqueurs we displayed one after the other until he became a nuisance. His was a colourful turn of phrase, “You and your half-monkey wife” he would say. What he did all day we never enquired. Eventually and before too long we had to invite him to leave which he wasn’t too pleased about. In addition, there were people, all strangers to us, walking in our house as if they owned the place and demanding our immediate and dedicated attention.

Now, on that, I wonder at it. It’s huge. I wonder why we weren’t afraid. And wonder what is the only word to adequately describe the acceptance, the defenceless welcome we extended to every human being on the planet regardless of colour, creed, nationality. Murderers, thieves, the wealthy, the less well off, celebrities, the desperate, drunks, the sober, the eccentric, the gentle grateful and the hostile disturbed. We were at their service, at their mercy. What were we thinking of? Were we thinking? It’s huge. Yes indeed, why weren’t we afraid? Was it courage? Was it faith? Were we just naïve? Ignorant? Were we just fools? “Angels fear to tread”. How dare we?

Hindsight, that’s hindsight, gets you everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Makes me realise we’re all at the frontier; all in the earthquake; all on the unpredictable precipice; the mysterious; the daylight darkness; the drama.

One individual was Barney Bonehead who used to walk out whilst loudly proclaiming it was ridiculous having church music in a bar. “Whoever heard the likes”. We played a bit of Vivaldi, a bit of Mozart, a bit of Swan Lake, some jazz and blues.

Bonehead came in regularly when Blossom and I were having dinner and would stand over our table issuing strings of spittle as excited he loudly tried to persuade us to do things right. “What’s this Bonehead?” he asked one evening, a bit menacing.

On dodgy ground here, I thought.

“It’s a compliment”, I said. “Means you’re strong, strong-willed, determined, no nonsense. It’s how I see you.”

“Oh”, he said, “that’s alright then.”

Bonehead was an alcoholic ex-dock worker who’d spent his redundancy money of tens of thousands having a drink and quenching the thirst of the town. A well-loved and wonderful chap! Needless to say, his funeral was well attended and there was much wailing and gnashing of teeth.