And so I come to the end of my journeys – for now at least. It’s been fun to find out new things and dredge up old memories, to see new places and look at old places with new eyes. Travelling, even on such a small scale, can bring back that delightful naivety and innocence of immaturity; when you have not yet decided what you like or loathe because everything seems new and interesting. We should try to hold on to that.
In the last year I’ve journeyed from the city where I was born and the town by the sea where I grew up down to the far south west of England and up to the north east of Scotland. I’ve visited Wales; Northern Ireland and one or two of the other islands that make up these British Isles.
I’ve not done anything amazing on this journey. I’ve not climbed Everest without oxygen, reached the South Pole without a support crew or even walked from Lands’ End to John O Groats without any clothes. What I have done, though, is something that we all too often forget to do: take the time to be wherever we are. To see a little of the wonder of wherever we happen to be today. I’ve taken time to notice some of the little things in life because, one day, they could well turn out to be the big things. They have a habit of doing that.
I’ve been lucky enough to visit lots of places and one thing I’ve learned about destinations is that there is nothing there for you until you arrive. That is to say that life is where we are right now and if we don’t learn to live our life where we are, then when we get somewhere else we still won’t notice it flashing past. You can only ever be alive in the present moment and we often forget that in our day-to-day lives, mulling over yesterday and fretting about tomorrow.
Travelling helps us to remember because it makes us stop and look at things and remember that we are there, we are experiencing it right in this very second. But we can do that anywhere and we can do that right now. Feel the sun on your cheek or the rain on your head; smell the new mown grass or the diesel fumes; listen to the singing of the birds or the rumble of a passing train; see the world as it is right now, wherever you are.
We often feel as though there will be a time or place where we can do all of the things we’ve always wanted to do. To be the person we’ve always wanted to be. When we lose so many pounds, when we’re married, when we’ve got so much money, when we move house, when we’re retired. As C.S. Lewis, who we encountered in Belfast, may or may not have said, we live too long in the shadowlands, waiting for sunshine around the next bend in the road or over the brow of the next hill.
Step out into the sunshine of this moment, you can only be alive right now. You can only do those things, be those things, right now, in this moment. That’s where we live and every moment is a decision. We choose whether we will live them fully. Grab onto each one and then keep it, forever.
It is true that moments can be remembered, forgotten, brought back to the present or left where they belong. Moments can even define our entire lives. The secret that no-one tells you, though, is that the moments need your permission to do any of these things. Your pleasure and pain come not from the moments but from your judgement of them and the story you tell yourself about them.
It may well be that everything in life happens for a purpose, maybe not, I don’t know, but what I do know is that, no matter what happens, you can find meaning in it. If you choose to make that a positive meaning then whatever happened had a purpose. Not only can you make moments worth keeping with you, you can also choose your moments, the ones to remember and the ones to forget. I know I make it sound easy but that’s because, when you really decide, it is.
To cheat death, you don’t need to have someone pound on your chest and call an ambulance, you just need to remember to live.
I’m glad that I’ve taken the time to make a few moments that no-one was going to make for me. I’m glad that I’ve recorded them both for myself and to share with you; from the boating lake at Fairhaven to the sights of Shetland. The places I’ve been and the experiences I’ve had have helped me to realise that the key to living the best life possible is taking the time to realise that you already are.
My mate Dave recently told me that, when we were young, I generally kept him on the straight and narrow. My response was: “For that, I can only apologise.”
We must, every now and then, leave the straight and narrow path that leads direct to the grave. We must take detours, visit places no-one needs us to visit. We must kick around in the long grass to see what we find, we must peep over walls and through the keyholes of closed doors. We must consider where we are and when we are and who we are.
If we are ever going to remember the way the moon kissed each ripple on the lake or the tender touch of the sun on our faces then we have to remember to live the experience now. What we must do, even if it’s just for a few minutes, is remember to bunk off.
MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL MY SUBSCRIBERS AND EVERYONE WHO HAS READ BUNKING OFF IN 2024 - A SUBSCRIPTION FOR A FRIEND MAKES AN EXCELLENT GIFT, THE CHANCE TO SPEND 2025 BUNKING OFF