The Hermit in me!!

There he is! Spring Heel Jack. Goes walking over hills and mountains all by himself; looks at the views, talks to no one; solitude.

I've done all that; I have been on that spot in the picture at the top but that isn't me; that was at Cape Wrath when I walked the width of it at the top of Scotland; I also walked across the Brecon Beacons, Dartmoor, Trawsfynyd (no idea where that place is with the Lynyrd Skynyrd spelling, but I know I've been there) and lots of other places with just a rucksack on by back and, usually, a very bad stove which I could never get to work.

Looking back it was a challenge – but was it fun? I don't really know and a lot of the time I was sorry I had started after about five minutes from being dropped off.

It was a bit like being a hermit.

I was listening to the radio the other day and it was about a Hermit; she justified her existence but said that she said hello to the neighbours, did her shopping etc but said she definitely was a hermit.

I didn't get from her the reason for her solitude or whether she liked it or not but there are moments in my life when I want to be alone but not too many.

I remember years ago when my wife would go out and leave me to baby sit. I planned my evening from the time she went out the front door.

First of all I would look through my record collection and choose which LP I would play first (yes they were LPs not albums) – shall I play The Beatles, maybe Pachelbel's Cannon or some Miles Davies?

Mmmmm – ah!! Edison Lighthouse!! Love Grows (where my Rosemary goes) – happy music, happy memories!

I would put it on, get myself a drink and pick up the newspaper - and see!!!!!

'Something great on TV' so off with the music and on with the goggle box!!

When my wife returned she would find me doing the things that I would have done in any case.

No loose women, no boys around for a poker school just an ordinary evening by myself.

But I got to thinking, and as I listen now whilst typing to Johann Pachelbel's wonderful music, about the hermit on the radio who lived in the middle of a busy city in her solitude; I am no longer - nor was I ever, I suppose - the lonely man on the hill. It's great breathing in that fresh air, but I really do like people. In fact I love them and I make a point to meet people every day. I talk to people in the Supermarket that I meet – well I have to say they are mostly women as I don't like to be too blokey (vegetarians can look at the meat menu, can't they?) – I go for coffee every day, usually with my wife but if she's not available by myself.

I have noticed the coffee culture in Britain since my return and the demise of the pub. I like pubs too but they sell mainly alcohol and I would see men sitting by themselves reading newspapers, doing crosswords, but drinking; getting closer to intoxication which might not have been too good for them; maybe inhaling smoke? But now we are in the smokeless, sterilised, paralysed atmosphere of the safer and clean coffee shop environment, listening to the soft music – muzak – no it's not muzak they play Dylan, blues, the aforementioned Pachelbel canon in d, and we are lulled in to a stupefying state of euphoria like the women in The Stepford Wives.

As I said I would notice the men but they would notice me too - approaching some kind drunkenness and euphoria – so what's the difference?

We could stay in our homes, make our own excellent coffee and play our own Canon in 'D' and maybe look at the moving pictures on our TV screen or get a tank of tropical fish to look at.

Yes I go for coffee every day but the coffee shop I go to is a 20 minute walk away so when I get there I feel ready for it and when I've finished I feel invigorated and I come back and type something like this – maybe I should stay off the coffee???