But

 In 7 1/2 years, of a sort of quest....

I learned a few things. 

Now, i 'get' it!

Yesterday, as efficiently as I possibly can as a selfish person, who has not doubled up with some tv addicted largearsed hair dye addicted woman who passes herself off as liking the countryside, yet never waddles up the nearby hill, so as to sort her largearse out - as there is only ONE way.... (there are so many such folk so none of them need to feel a finger pointed at them - they are the majority..)

As efficiently as possible, i go and do six weeks of washing. In the smallest borderland town of them all (best washing machines by far, reasonable charge). Just up from the bigchurch, just down from the high st.. And even here....

(as i  have wandered the hills for 7 1/2 years in this last phase of landloping, i so often inwardly say.."even here"...) 

A very very quickshot, photojourno photo, no time to stand and stare...in case he comes back.

Why on earth does the spice-skinny, toothless man say Hi to me...

again.

And even here.... one is meditating in the laundrette, i rather enjoy - one never knows who will come in and have the occasional truth chat.. 

And it seems the local drug dealer (not local of course - all the ex city types use their false charm to be resettled...and then bring their city with them) ... uses an orifice above the hallway to stash his sales operation
 ...even here...

The problem with Black Swanniness - one truly great aspect, to be forced to be among the 'people', when one knows they lost it decades ago... 

And don't know, over fifty, at least twenty, thirty best, walking in the hills - or at least on a strenuousish route...

Is the only way to feel great - keep all ills at bay...

and the lard away 

But i 'get' it. Who makes friends any more, with anyone, when even here half the chaps you meet around and about even here really are some deviants....

who so so so have the charming smile off pat, but one knows...

But...hahh hahh i do have a secret weapon.

Though only hillwalking makes one feel good, and even getting a FREE MOT test and small-house,  overhaul....

may well make one feel smug, but not good...

Only walking, in quiet places, the junkies dont waddle up to,  makes one feel good

The one, whom 9 months ago i really did feel was dangerous.... 

His whole act is dangerman

To have ended up hugging him last Saturday - proper communication he and I ... holding arms as one does - continental style, real humanity, and knowing (alone, it seems) he truly is a comedic actual genus better than Stuart Lee they all love...

Is in fact a bit more than a Black Swan... 

That damn dictum, assuming, makes an ass out of you...and me