I’m sitting here writing this at the Cheese’s dining table. I’ve been here since Saturday, when they were kind enough to take me in. I’m here till Monday. From Monday I’m house-sitting for my aunt and uncle for a month. After that, hopefully, I’ll be in my own place.

It’s a funny existence this. I feel very much the nomad lately. I get about in my car, packed to the gills with the portable stuff. I find a bed where I can, but always at the pleasure of someone else. I used to boast that I was a natural guest, but a few hours is very different from days or weeks at a time. It’s very unsettling. You never feel completely comfortable because you’re intruding on someone else’s space. You don’t act naturally. You have an allocated corner, foreign routines, and most of your stuff is somewhere else. Basically you feel out of sync with your life.

I’m not grizzling, especially considering the alternative is sleeping in the car. I’m very grateful for the kindness of my friends. I hate to think how I’m inconveniencing them, but they accept me with open arms. It makes you feel pretty humble.

I find it difficult to tell my friends how thankful I am for their generosity. I’ve never been good at that, but not because I don’t feel it. I get overwhelmed with embarrassment. I feel inadequate. I get maudlin when I try, and maybe even teary in the present circumstances. I express my gratitude in other ways, typical of me. I’m respectful of their time and space, and try to minimise their inconvenience. I help out when I can. I come bearing food, I buy booze, and almost inevitably I’ll offer to make dinner – an offer always taken up. I cooked dinner last night, and last week too.

It’s not comfortable, but it is reality.

The spy is in town tonight and wants to catch-up. I’m reluctant because I don’t feel myself. It feels like weeks since I properly groomed myself, and my wardrobe right now consists of a suit, plus jeans, shorts and t-shirts. I’m not in control of my environment, and it gets accentuated when I’m supposed to present myself and be attractive. I don’t look bad, but I look pretty rugged too – long-haired and unshaven. I don’t feel like the man I usually am.

Is it reasonable to uncertain?


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