Talking to Godot....
I live in a teeny tiny village somewhere in the deep South West of England. All thatched roofs and tractors and wellington boots.
It's chocolate box stuff.
We have a Post Office, a tiny pub, a chip shop and a church. There's nothing else for miles... Unless we are counting sheep and cows here, in which case there are loads.
I have no idea how many people live in the village. I've only met a couple so far. Mainly the rude woman from the post office who won't actually talk to me because technically I'm an emmet and so I should go back to where I came from, instead of darkening her door in my attempts to buy chocolate or milk or stamps or whatever.
But apart from the (very) odd one like her, most people are pretty friendly. They are more than happy to talk.
I'm just not ready to talk back yet...
So I go to the little church instead and I sit and talk to Godot.
He doesn't actually say a lot to be fair. It's usually pretty one-sided.
But that's ok... Because all of these days that I spend not really talking to anyone yet add up. And so I talk for England...and the hours just fly by.
And I like talking to Godot.
I have a lot to talk about.
Like my job and my van and my writing - About how I miss "Little Man" and wish that he was still here. About the conflict that I feel because I want to be part of this teeny tiny village properly. But that a lot of the time I'm reluctant to leave the sanctuary of my van because I'm actually scared to go out and meet people.
About the fact that Christmas is coming but that Nathan has fallen out with me and is now no longer coming to spend it with me. Meaning that I will probably spend it by myself - again.
And that the Christmas lights here will be turned on soon, but that I'm afraid to tag along and join in the fun, even though I really, really should, because four solid months of hiding away like a recluse since I moved here really isn't healthy or good for me at all.
I talk about how I get lonely at times and worry that I am going to spend the rest of my life as a lonely old singleton. Which is a very real possibility....mainly because I'm too scared to go out and meet people.
And I tell him finally that I have trust issues. And that I'm suspicious of agendas. Which is making any attempt to socialise impossible - Because the majority of people I spent any length of time with before I moved here, were hardcore addicts and criminals and therefore generally not the best of role models.
And that I don't know what to do about it all or how to feel "nornal" again...
And he listens to me.
Although he doesn't say as much.
I can just feel him there. In the background. Giving me support. Fighting my corner.
And then when I've finally finished this huge, one way conversation with Godot, and make to get up to leave, I hear him whisper something to me...so quietly I almost miss it.
He whispers this.