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Published: February 9th 2009
The date was the 27th January. It was a Tuesday.
The train had just delivered me at Prestatyn, North Wales, and life had suddenly slowed down a lot.
Work was over, which was a big shock. Three hours before the end of my last day, i had an epiphany. I realised that, without knowing it, the last 6 months of working every hour i was sent had resulted in my gaining more than just funds. Three hours before the end of my shift, I realised that i'd actually made a lot of friends in Manchester. In fact, I spent most of my days 'working' with a lot of friends. In fact, I realised, I was sad to be leaving.
But, as they say, all good things come to an end. 6 months in Manchester was fun, in retrospect. Lots of good memories, particularly of:
- Phil impersonating the orc
- The mentioning of a remote control whilst serving a slightly larger lady
- A numbered list of colourful adjectives.
Good times guys, but the work is over, and standing by the sea, staring out to the horizon, I was trying to understand that.
I knew the work was over, I knew that I was free again, but i didnt feel it. 'Nothing for it', i thought, 'but to start heading south'. So i did.
I set off down the Offa's Dyke trail, which runs down the Welsh border country. First couple of days were hard - turns out when you spend six months fitting boots and eating nothing but pitta and houmous you loose a certain amount of fitness.
Even still, after a couple of days the fitness had returned, but the feeling of liberation i was awaiting hadn't. The feeling im referring to is one that i had left behind in Scotland last summer. I had a degree under my belt and a long, winding road ahead of me, and nothing to be back for and it felt great! The open road, no responsibilities, i felt utterly free.
Trudging down the path in Wales, I knew thats how i wanted to feel, but i didnt. However, day 4 saw a revelation. At the time, I was filling up my water bottles from the taps in a Morrisons toilet. Perfectly normal thing to do on the trail, but the man that walked into the toilets at that moment did not return my smile. In fact, he looked at me as if i was quite odd. Slightly confused, i glanced up into the mirror only to be faced with prospect of someone new. No longer was I Andy Kuszyk, graduate, Cotswold Employee, Tax Payer and citizen extraordinaire! Oh No! I was now officially a tramp!
Damn it felt good.
From that moment on, the feeling of liberation began to grow again. Within a day I was in high spirits. The fitness had returned, the freedom had returned and i felt one with the trail once again. Life was grand.
Inevitably, however, as last week dawned the snow appeared. On the approach to the Black Mountains I was slowed down somewhat by the abundance of waist-high drifts and was eventually halted by the fact that all trace of paths and tracks had been irradicated by the snow. It was Wednesday.
All was not lost, however. I had planned to meet the Reading Cavers in the WSG hut (near Hirwaun, which is near Abergavenny) on friday night for a trip they had planned. They didnt know this, and it was to be something of a surprise, not to mention a free ride back to Reading.
So i hitched from the Black Mountains over to the hut. Not something i'd done of before, but i figured i'd draw a sign and see what happened. Turns out it was pretty easy, definately something to try again. I arrived at the WSG only to find it locked and (frustratingly) not easy to break into. The drying room was open though, so i camped out in that and waited for the cavers to arrive.
Friday brought with it disquieting news of the Severn bridge closures, but i hoped for the best. However, by 4am on friday night i figured that Reading weren't coming after all and that my surprise was lost on them. I settled down for the night and forgot about the fact that i was stuck in the drying room of a caving hut in the welsh countryside with no lift back to Reading. Everything was fiiiine.
Saturday morning dawned and i thought that i'd try hitching back to Abergavenny. if that proved difficult, I could always get a train to Reading, but if not then maybe i could try hitching all the way. If I could hitch to Reading then i figured i could probably hitch anywhere, so it was an interesting challenge.
Now, needless to say, hitching is the dogs proverbials! 3 and a half hours after sitting down with my first sign I was back in the 'ding, which is faster than the train would have been and pretty much as fast as driving! That feeling of freedom and liberation rose a notch and i feel now as if im in the computer game of life and i've just figured out one of the cheats!
Hitching is the way forward. I'm never paying for transport again!
So, im now back in Reading, living with John K and plan to make the most of being unemployed yet surrounded by students. I dont have to do any work and they all do....whats that old saying....'In the land of the blind, he with one eye is king'!
Right on, bring on the good times!
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anonymous
non-member comment
So What happened to Jen