Mapping The Territory (7)

MAPPING THE TERRITORY (7)

The sky turned red, and the moon came up. (The Priestess imbibed a preprandial sup.)

'My child, do you see (I'm convinced it's not me) that one sun's gone but one still remains? You know, I've been wracking my brains. What on earth could it mean? (You accept what we've seen?)

I was tired of her endless refrain.

So, I said:

'Well, it's clear to me, I'm surprised you can't see that the end of the world is now nigh. Take stock of your life; say goodbye.'

The Priestess looked up, then drank deep from her cup; she'd procured a good whisky, I saw.

'Are you kidding, my child? You will drive me quite wild if you say that the world is no more.'

I was shocked, and tried to look sore.

Mapping The Territory (6)

MAPPING THE TERRITORY (6)

I'd heard said that the Priestess was obsessed with semiology; had applied to reading tarmac yet another tired theory.

I, myself, am sick of theory: such a bore, so dry and dreary. (What's the use of methodology? I ask you quite sincerely.)

Anyway.

We were walking up hill. The sun was striking hot. I was nigh on giving up; throwing in my weary lot. By my side, she held her stride, but the heat was so oppressive that she hitched her dress up high revealing thighs that were impressive.

I looked away.

'Is it me who's seeing double, I must say I've had some trouble with my eyes in recent years - course, it could be all those tears that I've cried for girls, like you. Now I regularly see two.'

I ignored her.

'Yes.

'When I cast my glance aloft, the horizon's rendered soft, but that ain't the thing that bothers me, my dear. What perturbs me all the more and, my child, I can't be sure, but do we always have two suns this time of year?'

I stared up at the heavens, and gasped.

'Do you see?

'I have watched the sun and moon occupy the sky at noon now and then throughout the ages of my life. (There's a theory that their union portends strife. . . )

'But, the detail's in the shadows; things are lit from left and right. While I hate to be alarmist, I believe it's not my sight.'

Mapping The Territory (5)

MAPPING THE TERRITORY (5)

We kept on the go, and I held my head low but the Priestess remained irrepressible; her presence depressingly miserable.

'Well, my child, what a lark! I've been quite in the dark when it comes to the pleasures of hiking. I must say that I find it quite striking; my aches are all gone, mind and body are one. This exercise thing's to my liking.'

I said nothing.

'Come, come, don't be surly, it's really quite early. The day's pleasures still lie ahead. So what if I hogged the bed? A lady like me is quite fragile, you see. Sleep badly; I suddenly see red.'

She glanced at me sideways.

'Ooh, yes.

'I sleep light as a feather; regardless of weather I wake in a terrible sweat. My scalp is all itchy, my breast-plate is damp. The nape of my neck is soaked wet.

'Of course, you'll be wondering the cause. Let me whisper, dear child: menopause.'

I replied:

'Fine: so we're dealing with your needs, are we, not mine?'

Mapping The Territory (4)

MAPPING THE TERRITORY (4)

The Priestess was amazon, it didn't take long; her flat-footed stride echoed mine.

'My sweet, do you have any wine?

'Without lemons and ice, gin and tonic ain't nice. And, I must say, we've walked a long time.'

She rolled a fat cigarette and lit it.

'Well, I'm destined nowhere, so get out of my hair,' I responded: a truculent child.

'Now, now' said the woman, quite mild. 'You must cultivate grace, and not over-react. All I did was make manifest a veritable fact; that you've spent your whole life either walking or running away from the truth and towards - simply - nothing.

'Oh, you covered your tracks well; we thought you hard-working but, when all's said and done, you were only just shirking the things that - on earth - really matter.

'That's what makes this whole mess so much sadder.' She pulled out a filthy hanky from the arm of her dress, and wiped away a tear.

'My heart weeps for you, notice, my dear.'

I turned to face her.

'Can't I travel alone, don't you have a nice home you could go? I beg you, please leave. I don't care for the tricks up your sleeve. I know I'm at fault. Why else would I bolt? Just go, and allow me to grieve.'

'I would if I could,' as she stared into space. 'But, the fates have decreed I must equal your pace. We are destined to travel together.

'Chin up, things can only get better.'

Mapping The Territory (3)

MAPPING THE TERRITORY (3)

So, we walked on together; the sun on our backs. And, she's wily that woman; I shouldered both packs.

Her sack was quite heavy; 'what is it you carry?'

She answered, 'just hand me your flask'.

But, between breaths (and stumbling) she managed a grin. 'I always prefer to add tonic to gin. My bag, dear child, is crammed full with tins. I want only ice and some limes.

'Don't you miss the old days, those good times?'

I said nought; and, the Priestess opined:

'So, I see you've attempted ten steps to nowhere; let's consider them, child. (Quit that look of despair. You're much prettier when you smile.)

'To begin with you opted for optimism. It failed, so you coveted pessimism. Then (regrouping) you tried being enthusiastic. Well, when that didn't work, then, you made yourself sick. You found yourself bloated, and came out in spots so you gave up on eating and drinking: the lot. You got terribly thin, I remember.

'Four steps to nowhere.

'You decided to study; exceeded the best. But, fast-forward to jobs and you failed the test. Teamwork, it would seem, was anathema to you. So, you tried going freelance; were lonely and blue.

'Six steps to nowhere.

'Meditation is fine if one clears the mind, and, yoga is good for one's haunches and hind, but you always forgot that you had to keep breathing; your brain never stopped, your emotions kept seething.

'Eight steps to nowhere.

'The wine-tasting club only left you a lush. And, your time with the shrink - well - I see why you blush.

'Ten steps to nowhere.'

I stepped up my speed and left her behind.

'Now, child,' cried the Priestess, 'pray, don't be unkind.'

Mapping The Territory (2)

MAPPING THE TERRITORY (2)

I maintained a good pace, my eyes fixed on the track; regained my composure (refused to look back).

Through scrubland and dust, tufted grass, fallen trees, I continued to walk; thus, to do as I pleased. I forgot the Priestess and her candid advice. (The woman was bonkers, and not very nice.) When the sun fell to earth and I entered twilight, I began to consider where best spend the night. I put down my pack and unfastened my shoes and reminded myself I had nothing to lose.

If the world were as flat as they all once believed, I would walk to its edge, and fall off, quite relieved. If the world were a sphere (as we all now proclaim) I would walk round and round it until I was lame.

(In the end it would come to the same.)

I re-laced my boots, and I quickened my step and - the moon sailing high - I discovered my bed; a clean metal trailer, a private woodshed.

I lay down and stared at the stars.

I woke as she fastened her bra.

'My child, I've secured you a map of the land. Pray, please do not thank me. I know where you stand. You consider me stupid: an idiot hag. (By the way have you got any wine in your bag?)'

'Who are you?' I said, though I knew in my heart that the Priestess appeared when one's world fell apart.

She looked at me hard.

'I'm the facts you can't face, and a heart-felt embrace; I'm the things you refuse to confront. I will show you the truth, tell you lies as a ruse, and reveal an incredible stunt.

'Travel with me.'

Mapping The Territory (1)

MAPPING THE TERRITORY (1)

I had walked forty days with the sun on my back as I carried my life in an old canvas pack: the sun with its brazen and brilliant gold glow. 

My body was strong, but my spirit was low (though I walked without pause, I had nowhere to go). I was busy with numbers and figures and facts when an old hag appeared; stopped dead in my tracks.

'My child,' said the Priestess adjusting her bra, 'how dirty your face is, how weathered you are. How filthy your nails, how tangled your hair. Now, it's all very well to pretend you don't care but - and, take this from me - you should always look fair, for a time might occur when you want to go back. Do you have, for example, fresh pants in your sack? Do you have a perfume? Do you own any slap?'

'I just need a map,' I replied. 

'Tut tut,' mused the Priestess, 'you're tetchy, I see. Now do as I say and try mimicking me. You'll not find me rude; I aspire to be gay. So, what do you want with an Ordnance Survey?'

'Okay.

'I must study the contours of where I have been, and turn into symbols the things I have seen. I must navigate valleys of death and observe the high-peaks of joy and the mountains of love. . . '

'My dear,' said the Priestess (a terrible grin), 'it's time that you lost this pathetic chagrin. Just emulate me and you're sure bound to win. Self-love's not so awful a thing.'

I circumnavigated the bitch and carried on walking.