Bodger For Sale

I met someone recently who, when told what I did for a living, said “Well, you’re not Cracker are you so it’s probably not that fascinating”. Indeed! This is the response I have always wanted because it means that we can move the conversation on to something much more interesting and I don’t have to pretend that my work actually is fascinating. In reality, my work largely involves being in grotty northern towns interviewing far from fascinating people. However, over the weekend beginning 8th April my ‘career’ took me to north and south Devon to work on a case which was brought to me by the job description ‘school teacher’ and the phrases ‘she looked a lot older with make-up’ and ‘I didn’t know she was a pupil in my school when I met her in the nightclub’. I had another case in another part of the county and it was a nice coincidence to have two cases fairly close to each other and at a similar time. The plan was to see one client on the Friday, work in the Bed and Breakfast over the weekend and travel across the county and see another client on the Monday. In the end I was convinced by my hosts to actual take a walk and enjoy the good weather. The drive to the second venue and later on my way home revealed scenery unrivalled on other continents I’ve visited.

So, on Saturday morning I was in a very lovely coastal town having a very generous breakfast. My hosts were busy dealing with the concerns of a group of German professors who had mislaid a fellow professor and found that his bed hadn’t been slept in so I engaged my fellow diner in conversation. She was a very lovely lady in her early fifties who was in town to collect her son from college and take him home for the Easter holidays. When I asked what she did for a living she told me that she was due to retire in three weeks time. She and her husband had, all of their working lives, owned and run a village shop. They lived in a house next to the shop and this was the house her husband was born in since the shop had previously belonged to his parents. They were in an area so wonderfully remote they hadn’t been affected by a nearby supermarket wiping out their business. She mentioned that they were open early until late seven days a week and how, over the years, it had been very difficult to take holidays. In January a man came into the shop and declared himself to be an employee of the Co-Operative. He then made an offer to buy the business for a sum of money which she described as “more generous than our wildest dreams might have conjured”. And so they’ll both be retiring in three weeks. It had all been a bit of whirlwind she said but was excited about their new future. She was unsure of what they were going to do but thought that holidaying regularly would feature heavily. A door will open in three weeks and on the other side will be the rest of their lives.

It’s unlikely that the Co-Op would want to buy me out but I want to make it clear that I’m open to offers. If anyone would like to offer me a sum of money which forces me to holiday almost permanently for the rest of my days the chances of refusal are slimmer than a cheap hotel towel.