I went out yesterday morning, inspired by something I'd read, and visited somewhere on the other side of London. When I got there I had a quick look round and took some photos. And I haven't told anyone else about it.
When you live by yourself this can happen a lot.
One thing about living by yourself is that there's nobody else at home to chat to. If you have an opinion on the news, nobody's there to hear it. If you come up with a really good joke, it's wasted. If you cook something unusual for lunch, nobody comments. If you do a really good job of cleaning the windows, nobody notices. If you want reassurance that what you're wearing looks OK, the mirror never answers back. And if you go out for the day, nobody's waiting to hear all about it when you get home.
This is why friends exist, of course. They can be there to express an interest, to lend support, to bolster an opinion, to share activities with or just to listen. Ditto work colleagues if you have them, ditto family members. "You'll never guess what I did yesterday," you can say, and suddenly that thing you did all by yourself is no longer an effective secret. But it's not the same as living with someone who's essentially on tap to react to anything you might say or do. If your life is spent in company, you might not realise how unusual it is for some of us to be heard.
Who else cares that I've watered my cactus and kept it alive? Who wants to hear that I've been back to the library and what I thought of the last book I returned? Who might help with three down in the crossword? Who can I rail at when the price of chocolate biscuits goes up again? Who'll notice that stray eyebrow hair or the splodge of sun lotion that didn't quite blend in? When I get home from visiting X, Y and Z who wants to hear details of how unusual X was and how the journey almost went wrong between Y and Z? Some of us are bursting with mundane stories and have nobody to tell.
This is not a moan, by the way. I chat to family a couple of times a week, go out for walks with friends, and exchange messages on a regular basis. BestMate is really good at asking an open-ended question on an almost daily basis ("How's your day been?" "What did I miss?" "How goes Thursday?") enabling me to report back on anything of note. I always like it when I can respond with something unexpected or unusual ("spotted a mutual friend on an escalator" "day trip to Stockport" "bit into an all-chocolate Kit Kat"), which otherwise would have gone unnoticed. But sometimes something noteworthy happens and nobody asks and it's almost like it's been wasted because it wasn't shared.
I do have one significant outlet, obviously, and that's this blog. It's not just me reporting back on points of interest around the capital, it's also my chance to tell you carefully curated snippets about my life. Over the last month I've told you about the pink tie I saw on the Overground, the bacon and sausage baguette I ate in Lyme Regis, that time I won some free chocolate digestives, a man I saw vomiting on a street tree, how good the tulips are in Enfield, a parking ticket I once bought in Basildon and that time I saw the Pope. These are all minor things of the kind you might tell a live-in partner merely to pass the time, but I manage to share them with thousands of people I've never met and it simply counts as 'content'.
I also keep a diary which I guess is a different kind of response to having nobody to share things with. At the end of the day everything of note is set down in written form, and plenty of no consequence whatsoever, almost like the brain dump I otherwise wouldn't get. It's not intended for an audience so technically I'm not sharing anything, but never underestimate the satisfaction of emptying out your daily experiences every night.
When people have lived with someone else for decades, I'm often in awe of how they still have things to say. They must know by now what the other person thinks of immigration, how they like their toast or whether to switch off the TV before EastEnders starts. The news can be a gift to long term conversation because it provides a never-ending canvas to comment on. Plans and targets help too, like making progress towards a new kitchen, remembering which bin to take out and spending the best part of two decades bringing up children. A top conversational tactic for older couples while out and about, it seems, is simply to 'say what you see'. One partner provides a running commentary ("ooh a cat" "the sun's come out" "she's riding on the pavement") and it helps keep everything ticking over rather than just sitting there in silence.
And you don't have to live by yourself to have nobody else to talk to. Single parents with very small children perform small miracles daily but have nobody to pat them on the back, only a bawling audience that never listens or answers back. Some who thought they'd be coupled for life face the heartbreak of caring for a partner who no longer recognises them and will never again tell them what they think. Many so-called single people have a much-loved pet they pour their lives into and which provides great emotional support but can only ever provide non-verbal feedback. And never underestimate the disorienting shock when a long-term partner passes away and suddenly there's nobody's to talk to, only an empty space and a lifetime of future silence.
So today I thought I'd offer an opportunity to those of you with something to say and nobody to say it to. Tell us now.
What happened to you yesterday that you haven't had the chance to tell anyone else about?comments
Please only comment if you live alone, or effectively alone.
Any general comments below, thanks.
So much of what we do goes untold, to any audience, especially for those of us who go through life by ourselves. It's by no means always a bad thing, but also potentially an enormous waste when we could have much to say.
