Monday, March 11, 2019

A Route to an Interlude

An interlude.  That's what my life needs right now.  It happens all the time in books and films: people suddenly drop out of their usual hum drum lives and go off on some kind of adventure.  Or if not an adventure, some kind of life-changing experience.  Or, if not that, they retreat to some rural hideaway, where they contemplate their lives, before returning, spiritually refreshed.  In essence, they go off and be someone else for a while, live a different life, see and do different things.  A bit like being on holiday, but without the stress and the pressure to relentlessly enjoy yourself.  Also, unlike a holiday, an interlude's duration is indeterminate.  These interludes often seem to involve romances, or encounters with strange and beguiling women.  All in all, it sounds the sort of thing I could do with right now.  I really feel that I need something to change, so that I don't feel that I'm on a bloody treadmill all the time.  I just need the promise of something interesting, perhaps even challenging, coming into my life, if only temporarily, because, right now, work is boring me to tears.  Part of the problem has been in going down to only four days a week: my long weekends just highlight how dull the rest of the week is. 

The question is, though, just how does one instigate one of these interludes?  I've noticed that the fictional ones often start with picking up some female hitch hiker who turns out to be either some kind of wild free spirit who drags you off at a tangent, or a secret agent who embroils you in some kind of bizarre and dangerous caper, or is on the run from organised crime, involving you in some kind of desperate chase.  There's also the possibility that they might turn out to be a dangerous psychopath, (they certainly are in all the exploitation films I've seen) - which is why I tend never to pick up hitch hikers.  That and the fact that since I've been driving the Saab, I've become very picky about who I allow near my full leather upholstery.  If it isn't picking up random women, then these interludes frequently seem to be instigated by being mistaken for someone else: like Cary Grant in North by Northwest.  Mind you, I have no head for heights, so hanging off of Mount Rushmore would be out in such a scenario.  Putting small ads in newspapers, (or even, I suppose, newsagents' windows), seeking adventure, or offering your 'services' is, according to fiction, a good way of transitioning into an interlude.  Although you risk being mistaken for a an escort, some kind of pervert or a hit man for hire. 

So, all I need to do now is instigate some kind of interlude in my life - perhaps I need to overcome my aversion/fear of hitch hikers, as this seems the easiest way.  I can always get seat covers to protect the Saab's leather.  Trouble is that the only hitch hikers I ever see are heavily bearde hairy blokes with huge rucksacks and questionable personal hygiene...



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