Solitude.

Solitude can be so hard to find. Social media. Family. Work. Living our lives surrounded by people. Solitude is craved, sometimes, but it often eludes us. I think that’s why a lot of people go off on their own Grand Tour, as the sons of elite society did back in the day. Those elitists, perhaps, set off to find adventure and prove themselves. And, perhaps, to get away from the routines of daily life and discover the world.

I’m an introvert who can be extrovert when pushed - or tipsy! I sometimes crave solitude. A few moments on my own is all I need, but there’s a part of me that wants to spend far longer seeking the elusivity of time spent on my own, with nobody within miles of me.

I don’t want to hear raucous laughter of some drunk staggering past my window. I don’t want to listen to someone gossiping about a so-called friend. I’d rather not have a complete stranger walk past me, nose in the air after giving me a snooty once over, looking as though I’m a lesser class of human. Listening to someone’s noisy engine, or the honk of a horn, makes me flinch. Noise. So much noise. Then there’s the ranting and raving of a family member who’s in cognitive decline, and who can’t differentiate between dreams and reality, making accusations based on imaginary conversations.

Are we every truly alone, though? Even on a remote mountainside there’s the possibility of bumping into someone. Have you ever been to a deserted beach, plonked your butt on the sand on your towel, and lain there, snoozing? When you open your eyes you spy a family of six, less than fifty meters away, intruding on your alone time, missing the obvious clue that you might not want to be surrounded by people.

Ironically, solitude is good for a short time, isn’t it? Then we get uncomfortable. We feel nervous about being alone. And want the reassurance of a noisy vehicle or a high-pitched cackle.

I’ll take what I can get. Just a few minutes alone in my room. Earphones on. Trying to block out the world as best I can.

Until one day. Soon. I’ll search further afield. A mountaintop. A windswept moor. A deserted beach. One day. Soon.

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The Plunge

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Over fifty doesn’t mean over the hill!