We were sat in a Costa Coffee shop in Bridgenorth, and Best Friend 0.5(1) was trying – in that lovely ‘Lets Get You Motivated!’ way of his – to get me to talk about my future. Again.
This time however, he tried a different and I must admit highly effective trick, and after getting me to close my eyes – promising faithfully not to “try anything” – he said the following.
“Right. Imagine it is five years from now. Okay? Now, where, in five years, do you most want to be? Picture it in your mind. Now; where are you, and what are you doing?”
With my eyes closed, I thought about it. And almost immediately, I did see it. I saw it perfectly.
I saw myself standing on the deck of a boat – a canal boat – leaning on a rail and looking out into the distance where the sun was setting. I looked good – I had lost the excess three stone I’ve been meaning to tackle – and I was sleepy and contented. And I wasn’t alone. She was there. A plump, giggly brunette with her half tied hair blowing in the wind and her arms about my neck as she leant in from behind to kiss me, and we stood there; watching the sun go down. Together.
That was what I wanted.
Right there. I could see it, plain as day.
“Okay,” he said, once I’d told him (leaving out the bit about the weight) and explained the significance of the boat (we had hired it for a holiday after scrimping and saving for quite a while, in case you’re interested): “now close your eyes again and picture where you live.”
I did as I was told, and again, there it was. A cosy little flat – I pictured it being somewhere in Worcester, but frankly, it could be anywhere – with pale peach coloured walls and garish, non matching furniture and one of those pretty little fireplaces that look real but in fact aren’t. The sofa was huge, and had a throw that looked as though it originally a patchwork quilt. It was empty, but I could imagine us curling up in it and looking at our little fake fire.
There was also a hutch in the corner and a couple of rabbits hopping about the place and bits of straw over the floor, but I didn’t mention that bit, either.
“And now work,” he encouraged, obviously pleased with this stunning bit of progress: “Where do you see yourself working?”
Another eye close, another picture.
Now I was in a shop, not poky but not huge, serving customers. At that moment in time, I was weighing out bananas and laughing with an elderly lady who had just told me a funny – and rather rude – story from her early married life concerning her husband’s employer and the tantalisingly shaped fruit (another bit I didn’t mention at the time).
“…so,” he said, once I had finished talking. “You want a big busty girlfriend-stroke-wife to take boating holidays with, a hideously decorated flat, and to work in a shop.”
“…yeah...” I confirmed.
It felt a little silly, now I’d said it out loud.
It doesn't sound like much, did it? A little flat, a little job in a shop, a little holiday here and there, a (not so little) girlfriend/wife to share it with… A little life. Not exactly groundbreaking. My innermost dream wasn’t to be rich or famous (or both), or to make some vital contribution to man or animal kind, or to work in some important high end field. I didn’t want to be a doctor, or a teacher, or a scientist, or anything impressive like that. I didn’t even want – as a keen writer – to be a published author. My dream was to do something little, and simple, that I was good at and enjoyed and could leave at the door at closing time. To curl up on a squashy quilt covered sofa and feel someone’s arms about me as I watched rabbits hop their way around room that was ours. To have holidays that were ours. To just BE.
Out loud, it sounded… Stupid. Not enough.
But it was what I wanted. Now I had actually pictured it; now I had allowed myself to properly see past losing my dog and the bigger of the two ties that bound me currently where I was, I could see it so clearly, and I wanted it – boy, did I want it – and it was possible. Not only possible, but probable.
We talked more about it, and other things – most frequently the possibility of our future paramours turning out to not enjoy a ride on The Severn Valley Railway and what we planned to do if that happened – throughout the rest of the afternoon. We talked about ways to make it happen – getting back into retail any old how, really, then working towards my little ‘local’, wherever that may be – and how achievable it all was. We talked about how I could do it – and more. Bless him. His brain isn’t used to thinking ‘small’. In his eyes my future held progression to Manager, or even Owner – that I could do anything.
He was right (of course). And it felt good, thinking about it. The Alice Plan had goals, but those involving my long-term future were vague (get better job, no idea what kind of job, any job. Get self girlfriend, maybe, but maybe not; not sure I even want a relationship at all…). Now they weren’t vague. Now, they were definite.
So! Here’s the amended Alice Plan.
~~~~~
Over the next two years:1. Complete college course.
2. finish saving for my next holiday and start putting money aside for a deposit on a flat.
3. Get back into face-to-face customer service.
4. Jump properly into the world of dating, rather than standing on the side of the pool occasionally dipping my toe in.
5. Get the diet back on track.
Over the next 5 years:
1. Find a girlfriend (or at least have given it my very best shot).
2. Find a flat and move into it.
3. (if both of the above are ticked off) Look into getting a couple of rabbits.
~~~~~
So that’s the plan. And it’s a good plan.
Yep.
That’s do-able.
Definitely.
=nods=
…Yep…
B.C.B.F.L.B x
