A drifter

Like a drifter I was born to walk alone. Or something like that. My lyrics memory is good but sometimes I twist things to say what I want them to say.

So, here we are then, eh? 2013 and all that. I have to say that, for me, 2012 was a blinder of a year. By the May of the year I had two feet firmly, absolutely on the ground and my head as is customary in the hills. I had an overwhelming sense of wisdom, of knowing just what and who I am, an undisturbed solid faith in me. And I resigned from the best job in the world with a smile on my face and no hard feeling to head out into a pretty cool future, one that was mine, all mine. Solid. I seem to have been properly blessed by life, every decision seems to me to have been appropriate. I bought the campervan, I booked the tickets to New Zealand, I figured out how to do this, how to grow on the feeling of fulfilment. And so far it's been good. I mean, I do anticipate bads too, life does not bless us with nothing but good, but so far, it's been pretty much ace.

Things changed a bit last year. For me, fundamentally people are important, and it's worth a spot of reflection on that front. Unlikely people became properly friends. Folk who were work colleagues and are now ex work colleagues changed “label” into friends, one or two into inner circle friends. My boss, peculiarly is in the not losing touch category. Other unexpected people arrived in my life; it's been a year where it seems I have met new people and there's promise in new friendships. Proper promise, and joy. And it's plural. Others ebb and flow, as people do, and there's been more unexpected joy with my friend becoming house guest and that friendship becoming more comfortable for lack of a better word. Comfortable is a good thing to have with friends. I love people.

It's a funny trip I'm something like 10 days into. Living life out of a couple of bags, moving around on buses, ferries and at some point the train, between bunk beds and tent. In France in the campervan I spent a lot of time alone, somewhat isolated both by language and surroundings, having chosen a less than social way to live. In New Zealand I get to chose, and largely I do chose solitude. Some of it is a shyness, or perhaps a polite British reluctance to inflict my company on others. I'm tactful, I presuppose age related rejection and avoid putting myself in that position by being sociable to a point but not inflicting myself on the yooofffff, not wanting to cramp their styles. It's really hard to express this without it sounding as though in some way I'm being snooty and self deprecating. That's not how it feels to me. I simply feel kind of mellow and content with the Alison shaped space I inhabit. Solid, I guess. Solid.

The ten things list (not written this up for a while)

1. the world's crappest bike on hire for a day which proved to me that you don't need the best equipment to enjoy riding and you can push it to your limits, it's just your limits are different when the bike's different.
2. Germans. Three fresh out of school lads cycling through New Zealand until March / April. Fresh faced, bright, fluent in English, no hippy urchins but neat and tidy middle class. Enjoying their company immensely as I room share with them.
3. I am not a lesbian. I could elaborate but it's something of periodic amusement to me that I give off this vibe.
4. Neither am I a sailor.
5. Little Blue Penguins
6. New Zealand supermarket sandwiches
7. Electronic gismos. Getting a lot of use from my work leaving presents of kindle and solar powermonkey. Many hours of fun with chargers …
8. Kathmandu trainer shoes
9. Glacier dreaming
10. New Year texts