frustration

Sitting here at the keyboard I realise it has now been three days since I last ventured out of doors. At present I am waiting on something I had to order before heading north once more. because of my daily dilation I need complete protection from the midges. That means a full size midge net. Something I currently do not have.
What have I been doing since my last trip. In some ways, not a lot. In other ways, spending much time trying to figure out the easiest way to move from London. Basically it all comes down to finance. Being on benefits puts me on the bottom of the finance ladder, or more likely, below it. Benefits means no mortgage. It would not be covered. Bank loan, sorry, without job security it is not feasible. Ok, get a job. Therein lies a problem. Sure I have a few skills, nothing on paper though. There is an added problem, a people problem, I am unable to work with other people. That is not an excuse, it is a reality. Maybe it is down to this aspurges thing. My last job, which was the first in several years,I struggled with for ten years until it finally blew up in my face. There is no way I am prepared to go through that again. My trip across Scotland has heightened those feelings. It was so difficult for me, emotionally and mentally. Taking charge, leading from the front, that is not my strong point. In fact, it is a struggle. Some nights I would go to sleep totally wrung out mentally. It is highly likely that is why I ended up with vertigo. It followed after some really bad nightmares, something that had not occurred for some time. On that particular night I remember waking up trying to scream, afraid. The sudden and violent waking with a jolting head movement,was enough to trigger a severe bout of vertigo.. That was confirmed when I checked out with a GP. So far I have contacted scores of estate agents about renting properties, advertised, spoke to local people gone through local newspapers, nothing. Not on my financial level anyway. In some ways I am tempted to just up and go. Dump everything and walk away. Gradually I have been getting rid of material things. My main fridge went to a neighbour all I am using now is an electric cool box. My microwave went to someone else. Cooking now is done on the draining board on whatever stove I happen to have fuel for. Currently I am cooking on meths. My large monitor/tv was swapped for a basic small tv. My dvd player has gone, ditto the high majority of my books. My furniture is down to basics, a chair and a bed. A lot of clothes went as well. Some of my outdoor gear has gone. A very light, but large tent will be given away to anyone who wants it. Maybe one of my smaller tents will go too. They are just things, they have no real importance. All my past, anything from earlier years has gone. In July I am meeting up with a few folk for a weekend on Dartmoor. Now that I am reverting back to mainly going solo, I am uneasy about it. As I have written before, a few people are genuine outcasts from mainstream society. They may be in society but are not a part of it. As I grow older I question many things; death, euthanasia, freedom of choice.

If

Having just come back from a trip north saw me looking through various blog sites, just catching up on what was happening out there.. In one there is a mention of a lone hiker who died in a remote area. It set me thinking, just reflecting on the events of the previous week. Throughout the bulk of the trip I felt unsettled. Not depressed Per SE, but not totally at ease either. A few times recently I have woken from bad, weird dreams. That has not happened for some time. One event in particular made me pause and think.Picking my way through an area of dense scrub and undergrowth I found myself funnelled down into deep gully. The bushes and small trees that enclosed it formed a perfect canopy over it. There was space underneath, a hollow, a natural chamber. Little in the way of natural light managed to filter through. My first though that came to mind was how tomb like it was. Slipping my rucksack off, I sat for a few moments, noticing the silence, the coolness, the tangy, earth smells. Unbidden the thought came, 'what a perfect place to die'. It was not in a morbid way, just a general acceptance of our own mortality. What could be more natural than to be absorbed back in to the very earth. No digging of a specialised hole in the ground, enclosed in a cheap wooden box, just another person being buried by some minister to whom I am a stranger.No marking of the place, just a plot number in some obscure church yard. When an animal dies on the hill it is not long before it's carcase is absorbed, the bones remains but even those are soon covered and become part of the Eco system too. It caused me to reflect on other things too. When I travel no one knows that I have gone. After all, for me, who is there to inform? There is no family, no close connections. Who would miss me? How long would it be before anyone realised I was missing? Definitely weeks, in all probability, months. Recently I have been stripping stuff down. My microwave has gone, my large fridge, some of my clothing, the majority of my books. My only furniture is a bed and a chair. So my possessions are few, there is nothing of real importance. If things did go wrong on the hill, I will not say 'the worst' because it really is not the worst case scenario, then ok, it happens. Better surely than existing out the later years in some cheap and tiny flat.