Thursday the 25th I arrive home about ten thirty at night having cycled in the morning and reffed in the evening. I need to pack my things. Nicky’s coming round with the van in the morning and the plan, such as it is, is to put the stuff in there and then stay at hers Friday night and then go to Laura’s for the weekend and then have a think. Just haven’t had time to sort anything out. Did put a quick ad on gumtree and got quite a few replies but it’s all too much hassle. Viewing places, meeting people, thinking about signing things. I decide instead to leave it all up in the air, let Fate sort it out. That works.
Except, Thursday night I get home and I can’t find my keys and I’ve no idea where they are. I’m so tired it’s ridiculous. Such little sleep the two or three nights before. So much work. And no way to get in the house. The property guardian company will be there at noon tomorrow expecting everything to be cleared and tidy. And I’ve to be at work by ten anyway. My boss is in Birmingham ; I’m working alone. He’s relying on me for everything. The stuff won’t get moved out. I won’t even be able to do it when the company show up. It’ll be hassle and money and disaster. What on Earth to do?
I lie on the doorstep talking to Nicky on the phone. Could just fall asleep right there. Close my eyes and let the hassles of this life just melt away. I’ve got my body, I’ve got my bike; maybe all the rest of it – possessions and deposits and trying to figure it all out – don’t matter anyway. What’s the worst that can happen? Sleep, sleep, I want to sleep…
But, be smart: cycle over to Nicky’s and stay there. Talk a little and in that talk suddenly get a flash that I left my keys in the Compton Road library while gumtreeing that morning. A little beam of hope. A plan.
Morning comes. Up early. Breakfast and then head over to mine with Nicky in her van. She leaves it there and cycles off to work. I sit down and have a think and then head down to where I work and find no keys there and then head back up to the library and keys I find. Awesome! It’s just after nine and time to get it on – one hour to pack everything and load the van and do a quick tidy. I rush on home and get stuck in and though I’m flying it’s still a ninety minute job. House cleaned and van fully loaded and then shoot on down to work, mind already on the 4pm refereeing appointment, no time to waste. But wouldn’t you just know it? The day I’m on my own and fifty minutes late starting and with somewhere to be afterwards there are double the number of deliveries and an insane number of huge large boxes.
“Hope you’re not in on your own today,” the lady says.
I dive on in. Do the sort in record time. Make up most of the fifty minutes and get out the door and hit the pre-12s and complete my first load. Job is normally two, maybe three trips. Today it’s five. I go non-stop and have time for neither food nor water and somehow I’m ready to be finished by 3.40ish.
Back to base. Complete paperwork. Change into refereeing kit. Cycle madly the 3.4 miles to South Leeds Stadium in something like 11 minutes and arrive at the side of the ground just as the teams are being led out on to the pitch, a man in trousers carrying the flag I’m supposed to be holding. It’s all arranged, of course; they know I’m running late and it’s not a big deal. But thinking I can make it pretty much as it should be I chain my bike to a lamppost, shirk the front door, and hoist myself up instead over an eight-foot gate and go running towards the teams.
Collect flag. Take my position. Made it.
And then I run the line and ref one in the middle and run another line in back-to-back-to-back games for the Leeds Schools FA finals day and it’s about 10pm by the time we finish – last match goes to extra-time and penalties, natch – and that’s fourteen straight hours I’ve been on the go. And still I’ve nowhere to live and have to figure it out but also have a game to referee the following day, and two the day after that, and then work day and night pretty much every day the following week…
A fairly typical example of my life in recent times…
It’s not a bad thing though. In fact, I’m digging it. I like the cycle job and I like the way I haven’t had all those hours of sitting around thinking and trying to figure things out – Nicky, Laura, my career and relationships in general and all things future plus life the universe and everything else – and I definitely agree with all those who say that being busy’s probably a good thing for me right now. Also, it’s not forever, what with the football season just about finished, and so a bit of balance should descend in the not too distant future. Which is something I’m looking forward to also. It has been a bit mad at times. But I’ve made it, and that’s something to be proud of. In the words of every single melodramatic Gothic author, “no man in the history of the planet was ever visited upon by such a condition of frantic busyness as I…”
Still, what you really want to know is what became of everything. The housing situation. Nicky. And everything else. And so that’s what I shall endeavour to tell you.
I moved out Friday 26th. Had been given two weeks notice but hadn’t had time to do anything about it, beyond text people I knew with vague inquiries and stick a wanted ad on gumtree. Wanted ad did provoke several responses but the idea of following them up was all too much. Also, I’ve been trying to get away from ‘using the internet to find things’ and more back to ‘letting life bring me things all synchronistically and magically’. That stuff works. It’s always worked for me. The internet just drives you mad. Too many options, too many avenues to explore. How to decide? But life brings the right thing at the right time and guides you and provides signs and…
I didn’t know what I was doing. I’d chucked my stuff in Nicky’s van and at least had the option of storing it once more upstairs in my dad’s shop. A weekend at Laura’s to figure things out. No rushing into anything like I did last time. No time, no inclination. Let life bring the answers…
I unload the van Saturday morning and stick everything I own in a corner on my dad’s first floor in amongst broken amps and empty boxes. Thankful to have that space. And quite satisfying too to see it all there in one big pile, sort of free from it for a bit. Then I go to referee a couple of games in Leeds and around 5ish head for the train station and the bath and bed and much-needed relaxation at Laura’s place in Wakefield . But on the way I’m grabbed by some seriously wicked buskers and do a u-turn on my bike and have a listen for five. They’re rocking out all bluegrass hillbilly style and people in the small crowd are even dancing. Very groovy. And while I’m watching a guy I know from uni and squash taps me on the shoulder and says hi.
“What you up to?” he says (etcetera).
And so I tell him and mention the house thing and –
“Hm. We might have a bed at ours. You could move in Monday. I’ll just chat with the guys.”
And there you go. I moved in two days later. I’m here now. It’s wicked. They’re all good moral Christian boys living in a communal stylee. We sleep in bunk beds and there are Bibles everywhere. But they like fun and jokes and laughter and silliness too. The first night I climbed into my top bunk and me and the guy beneath chatted sleepily about various things until we both drifted off into our each individual lands of nod. I was thinking, this is the way to live. Nice that there’s always someone around, and that they’re good people. They’re students, and young, but not like the frantic, constantly wise-cracking students I’m used to. Good at listening. Interested in what you’re up to. Sharing food and things and always wishing you a good day in the morning, asking how your day was at night. One guy’s really into comedy and makes awesomely terrible jokes kind of in the way that I do. Another’s sporty and has got me a spot in a cricket team. Funnily enough, I’ve discovered we also have several mutual acquaintances. It’s nearly two weeks I’ve been here and I’m digging it sincerely.
And that’s the story of my living situation.
TO BE CONTINUED…
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