Yes, it is noteworthy that it doesn’t seem to matter as to the where of the landscape: north or south, east or west; which continent; which nation?? Does it matter? The missing details may be those specifics by which we measure our sanity: what is the name of the Prime Minister? Good question! What country are we in? Ummm. Monarch? No idea!
Of course, we are journeying within the current overdone cliché of the journey. That’s a relief. No need to worry – we are in a cliché. TV celebrities are constantly falling over themselves and each other to stress and under duress to extol the virtues of their journeys. It’s hard to imagine the camera crew keeping a straight face; their mouths must be bound tight with duct tape. But I also imagine the camera crew and technicians to be the invisible sanity of the whole madness of our endless watching of each other. Is there a camera crew on this journey of ours? Not that I can see. But though the media is one prevalent force in this watching of each other, there are other more shadowy forces: so called secret services, the security services, the police in various forms, and the military. And one must mention that, at times forgotten, force without which none of the others could function – the informers. Those unloved go-betweens acting out of what exactly, what is it motivates them? Is it envy? I suppose at times there might be a financial reward?Licking the shoes of the powerful?
Enough of this digression we must get on.
What an unexpected pleasure, I thought, when we first caught a glimpse of a settlement on the horizon. The possibility of a change of diet, some fresh fruit and vegetables, perhaps even a bed for the night. There’s bound to be a bar, new faces to get to know over a couple of drinks. Though it has to be said that our group seems to have a variable membership. People come and go I know not how. What I had not thought of, in fact I had forgotten all about it, is THE CUTS. They have arrived before us. Travelling at this old fashioned pace one gradually forgets the sheer speed of electronic communications. The drooling Chancellor, Ossie the Floss, had already holographically swept through, leaving nothing to chance. He has allowed extra money for the bankers to build extra deep bunkers and extra high razor wire enclosures and suggested that taxing them is a thoroughly unfair thing to do. Though we could still hear them laughing as they partied (hard) in perfect privacy except for the security forces hovering overhead in their helicopters.
Should I have been as surprised, even hurt, as I was when we were informed, non too gently, that our presence was not welcome? And indeed it was suggested that we should continue straight through without stopping. Waved on by thugs in uniform. And I had no idea how to interpret the grinning faces at the windows watching us, though there was a young lad, perhaps ten years old, who gave us a thumbs up before he was dragged inside by a fearful mother.
Uncle W., Immy and Butler were all for invoking revolutionary passion then and there but there were those amongst us, and I have to admit that I was one of them, who were too tired, too cynical, or too scared. Do we travel to discover where we are or where we are going?