With A View To Hope


I have spent my life journey largely looking out of the window at passing events, fascinated by the spectacle of existence rather than having any thoughts on a destination or purpose. “Clever but not present” a teacher said about me to my father on one occasion and I can agree, at least, on the “Not present” bit as that has been increasingly apparent to me in my life.

Some people I started the voyage towards maturity with, friends at one time or another, can now boast about a prosperous business, or career’s in some professional field marked by significant appreciation, large detached houses in well-ordered streets or a home somewhere deep in countryside while I have dabbled in a number of professions, but remained in none: somehow keeping myself just beyond “Beggar’s Lot” where the seriously disengaged and unlamented live in unsought circumstances. I now work on the forecourt of a petrol station where the great and good, the disregarded and the social barbarian join briefly in their search for fuel.

The people I work with are among the nicest I have met, and defend a life of simple values as best they can, while working long hours on the minimum wage to sustain their families: that quietness, the modesty and a certain caringness for others, are often absent in some customers, engrossed perhaps with more urgent concerns in their drive-through life.

My landlord Richard, grumpy, invasive but kept at bay by that vague air of erudition which has made my life more civilised than I deserve, looks at me with bewilderment but is tolerant because I always pay my rent on time and make no noise, which is not so true of some of his other tenants, all of whom are younger than I.

In the midst of this, I sit in my room researching, as I so often do, the lives of the pre-Raphaelites and John Ruskin who was one of their champions. It is a curious interest, perhaps, and one which does not involve a rich social life but through an internet forum, inhabited by those who enjoy all things to do with Victorian history, I have come across Anne, who shares my love of obscure topics and joined me, via the internet, in an investigation into the origins of the impressionist movement.

Gradually our interest in each other progressed beyond the intellectual but she lives in Newcastle and I in London and neither of us has the money or the freedom to visit the other. Yesterday we Skyped for the first time and it was wonderful to look on the face of someone I thought to be of value who felt the same about me.

Can I find a way to live nearer to her, and would it be too forward to suggest such a thing? Here I am, somewhere between hope and frustration, but sensing the birth of courage and a determination which has always been foreign to me. I cannot write of what I do not know and should not form plans based on a fantasy but regardless I can still dare to hope and hope may be the pathway to my dream.

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About Peter Wells aka Countingducks

Trying to remember what my future is
This entry was posted in creative writing, faith, Fiction, Humanity, Life, Peter Wells, Romance and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

15 Responses to With A View To Hope

  1. davidprosser says:

    Dreams are meant to be chased Peter. I hope yours come true.
    Hugs

    Like

  2. Lucy Brazier says:

    Never let an opportunity for happiness slip through your fingers. If it is meant to be, love will find a way. I hope you both find a way to be together 🙂

    Like

  3. mikesteeden says:

    I suggest that through your smoothest of anecdote’s you have perfected the art of making an individual’s perceived failure one of a treasured success. A bravo moment methinks!

    Like

  4. RJ Walters says:

    Lost opportunities are the things I regret most about life. Where I didn’t sum up the courage to do what was in my heart..

    Liked by 1 person

  5. ah, the wonders of modern technology!

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  6. Sometimes being an ‘observer’ is more difficult than it seems. And, ultimately, where does the quest for success lead? Perhaps the dream is the safest thing to hold on to. A fine and thought-provoking piece, Peter.

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  7. araneus1 says:

    I love the journies you send me on Peter. I imagine your protagonist heading down the motorway that heads to Newcastle with ‘his heart in his hands’. I can feel his gentle nature and his skill for observing — all this and more, in a few hundred words. Thank you for the journey.
    It’s been a strange day so far — interesting dreams, mostly dreamt after receiving the early morning news that a good friend’s husband had died suddenly — my response, apart from the obvious, was to go back to sleep and dream vivid dreams of old houses and unexplained heating systems. My wife and I looked into each other’s eyes — we both knew that someone else would ultimately receive such a phone call one day and one of us would be the subject of the call.
    As with your friend at the Cafe, I did not know this man all that well, but I will miss him just the same. It’s going to be a strange day.
    Thank you for the story. Be well my friend.
    Terry

    Liked by 1 person

  8. lynnefisher says:

    Lovely writing, Peter, and I can relate to a good deal of your protagonists experiences. My hubbie and I live in a rented cottage, when by now, we ‘should’ have had the determiantion or gumption to be house owners, with me especially having a ‘proper professional’ job. But no regrets, we have loved living where we do and I enjoy what I do (writing and painting). I can understand your protagonist’s love and interest in the PreRaphaelites and hope he can find a way of heading UP to Newcastle soon!

    Liked by 1 person

  9. I once told my late husband that I felt as though I had spent a good deal of my life looking through a hole in the fence at the game that was being played. When he came along I had company.

    Like

  10. gotham girl says:

    Follow your dreams!! Life is too short!

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  11. Scarlet says:

    I hope the protagonist has a very happy ending 🙂
    Sx

    Like

  12. Obisco1 says:

    I felt like I was reading a poem from one of the 19thC poets…how haunting, poignant and stirring all at the same time.

    Liked by 1 person

  13. nelle says:

    He moves in with her, and the two go on to own a chain of convenience stores. Hope is a good thing. Wish we had it here!

    Like

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