Interruptions

“And today?”

“I did some more debunking, and made a website that contains pretty much everything I’ve ever written - must be getting on for three million words.”

“Does it look like it’s from 1997?”

“Damn straight it does. Like my tastes in music, my abilities in html haven’t really moved on since then.”

“Well, OK Computer’s as fresh as a daisy - maybe your website will be too.”

“I wouldn’t count on it. But, as they say in Paris - “

“‘Who gives a fuck, n’est pas?’“

“Nest par indeed.”

“And how’s San Miguel?”

“San Miguel’s lovely. I mean, I haven’t left my room in 27 hours - but just to know it’s out there...”

“It’s like that - “

“It’s like that paper I helped edit on the importance of green spaces, and how just living near one, even if it’s never visited, is enough to give an extra sense of well-being. I know out my door - “

“There’s this whole beautiful city of culture and cobbled streets and - “

“Will you stop interrupting me please? You don’t know what I’m going to say.”

“Sorry.”

“I should think so.”

“How rude.”

“No. I’m going to say that: how rude. Anyway...what was I saying?”

“You were talking about - “

“Oh yeah; how there’s this whole beautiful city of plazas and churches and, er, culture and cobblestones, and all these happy people, and not too much traffic, and it’s all just so lovely and civilised and nice and - “

“Not like England?”

“No, it’s not. I can’t explain it. It’s just...”

“It just kind of works?”

“Yeah. Something like that. Like there’s not the angst or the sense of something missing or the hustle bustle consumerism or the...aggression, you know?”

“You’re right: you can’t explain it.”

“Right. But I can feel it - and I can feel the difference in me.”

“So you’re happy then?”

“Yeah, you know what? I think I am. But...”

“But what about that thing the other night?”

“What thing?”

“You know.”

“I mean, yeah: I know. But how do you know?”

“A bee told me.”

“Bloody bees!”

“So go on.”

“Well, I’d been too long on the comp that day, and that probably had a lot to do with it. But I went for my walk and I was like, my God, this place is wonderful and beautiful and amazing and...all I was really thinking about was going back to Baja, and missing the people there, and I was like: you know what? I don’t think I’ll ever be happy anywhere - and then I got this...I don’t know what it was: I got this sense of ‘letting go’, as though nothing mattered, and I’ve sort of been happy ever since. I guess just accepting that there isn’t this perfect place that’ll make me feel good - the idea of looking for it just fell off me, and everywhere became equal. I dunno, I - “

“Can’t explain that either?”

“Not to you, no: you’re not a very good listener. You keep interrupting. You’ve got this look on your face. You don’t exactly inspire me to want to share my confidences with you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t cry.”

“I can’t help it.”

“There there.”

“And? Please: do go on: I am listening. I’m just excited, that’s all.”

“By my tales?”

“No. By that cheap viagra I ate an hour ago.”