London Au Revoir

Matilda piled on the pounds at Calais: food, petrol and gallons of expectation. She then dragged her newly obese self on to the autoroute, fidgeting about in the back until the dried goods and perishables settled into each other’s paper-bag grooves.

It was a long list of firsts for Stanley, he told Jessie repeatedly.

‘First time handing in my notice. First time renting out my flat. First time going abroad: destination unknown / duration indeterminate. First time entering the lock-jawed mouth of a ferry. First time towing a caravan (circa 1970), which, I must say, could easily fly off into a field and end up crashed into a tree or upside down in a ditch and then we’d be homeless if not with broken spines or even dead!’

‘Stop mithering me,’ Jessie said, sighing. ‘Know what I’m doing.’

‘But I’m not sure that I do.’ He looked at her, then at the door, as if contemplating getting out.

‘You’re not going to let me down, are you, love?’ There was alarm in her voice. ‘I’m depending on you. So long as you’re with me, you’re all right.’

‘Stop the car,’ he said. ‘Please!’

She did so and the car jolted to an abrupt halt.

‘We don’t even have a guide book or a proper road map.’ Stanley’s voice was hoarse.

‘To some people, spontaneity is a dirty word, but it’s my modus operandi. See, you’re not the only one with a fancy vocab. There’s a lot to be learned at the University of HK, Hard Knocks. I’ve got a degree too, in Life – Life’s Shitty Experiences. Only got a third, though. Third-degree burns.’

‘But why make things difficult for ourselves when we can plan out the route and choose the best campsites in advance?’

‘Properly is a dirty word to me, Stanley. Do you think the Bushmen of the Kalahari need a list of “Best Trees to Sleep Under”? Did that prophet Jesus need the Rough Guide to the Desert when he went out to fast, and a list of “Things to Do and See” when he got bored? Did early African man need the Lonely Planet Guide to Evolution in order to reach Norway? And, trust me, it was lonely, walking with the future of humanity on your hairy shoulders. No, they did not. They used that underrated asset called instinct, coupled with past knowledge and general wherewithal. It’s what’s in our genes that will get us to our destination.’

‘Which is?’ he asked with impatience.

‘Spain, as you well know.’

‘And thereafter?’

‘When we’re ready, we’ll move eastwards.’

‘But it still doesn’t make sense. We’re just making things more difficult for ourselves.’