It’s the little things that make me happy: a sunny day, a smile from a stranger, hot food in my belly. I don’t want a great deal out of life, just to be left alone to enjoy it I suppose. I used to live in the city, and people always say you miss that buzz if you move on out, but I don’t. It’s noisy, and unfriendly, and I got sick of all that traffic and dirt. I’ve always dreamed about being near the sea and, for me, quality of life is what matters.
I always wanted to be self-sufficient too. I can’t work for other people, can’t live my life round someone else’s timetable. I’ve always felt different from other folks so I suppose I was bound to follow a different path. I could never work in an office with a boss telling me what to do - I need to be my own boss.
When you’re thinking about moving from one place to another, like I have, you need something to make you go. One day you just decide you’ve had enough. I’ve met lots of people who’ve moved to Cornwall and they seem to be beached. That’s not the same as washed up, but I think they’ve been tossed about by life a bit, and the sea has gently left them there, on the shore, so they can recover. I think it’s a healing place. I came here to get away from a whole lot of hassle and I wouldn’t go back, not for anything. I’ve left my past behind and, here, I can start again.
Getting out of the city is the best thing I’ve done. There’s a great freedom in arriving in a new place like this, where no-one knows anything about you. You have the chance to simply be yourself, every day, with no pressure from anyone. That big decision to leave made me feel really strong, as if I’d stamped on all my demons and walked off laughing. It’s only thinking about change that’s scary. Once you’ve taken that first step out the door, you feel brilliant, excited, like anything’s possible. All you need is a good pair of boots.
You have to stay focused, of course, looking back would be no good. Always think ahead, what you might want to do today or tomorrow, where you might want to go. Keep moving. I walk miles. I’ve walked most of the coastline. The rivers are just heaven. I can sit and drink in the sunshine, the fresh air, the green all around, the light on the water, and I feel like I’m the richest man around. I’m fit too. I feel pretty good. Being out in nature all the time has made me fairly tough I suppose.
I do get hungry so I have to spend some time in the town to get money. I’ve learned to be patient, to accept what little people can spare. I come in around 4 o’ clock, and while I’m sitting, waiting, I plan what I’m going to eat that night. The anticipation makes it all the sweeter. A fat, juicy, doner kebab and chips puts a smile on my face for days. Women around thirty-five are the most generous, and they’re usually the ones that smile, or stop to say hello, which is nice. They always like my dog. She’s a beaut; she’s my best mate.
Yep, I’m really grateful that I’m here, and I’m grateful for whatever comes my way. It might seem odd not to have any worries; most people do, but the biggest decision I have to make every day is where to sleep, and I’ve got a few good places I use. Happy? Yes, certainly, it’s all relative isn’t it? I’m free; how many people can say that?