The times they have a-changed

Believe it or not I used to ride from one end of the country to the other on a 125cc scooter just to get drunk with a few thousand like minded fellows then camp in a field in some run-down seaside resort in Britain.

Now I drink real ale and bake bread for the farmers markets. I was even pleased to receive a pair of slippers for my birthday last week. Well, it’s Canada, if you were here in the winter you’d understand.

I’m not so much interested in the how I ended up here, at this life juncture, or even why as it’s a far too tortuously long and erratic journey even for me to recant. I’m interested in what comes next. No, I’m inanely excited about what comes next.

I just started a new farmers market today, packing the car up in the pelting snow at 4.45am then driving for two and a half hours to sell bread in The Big Smoke, or the biggest smoke that we have around here at any rate. And the people I met filled me with such good vibes and enthusiasm that, despite only having about an hours sleep last night I am once again shoving dough into the gaping maw of my convection oven in preparation for another farmers market tomorrow.

It’s a million miles from the knives out, nose to the floor tile sucking up another great gutful of shit that was my former career in IT. Oh, it wasn’t all bad, it’s just at some point I lost the youthful happiness that  accompanied… well, my happy youthful time.

I think I may have just rediscovered it. And without the yard of ale this time.



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