He is not accompanying me on this journey and while I do not intend to address all the reasons for his absence, I will explain some of the background behind the decision in order to prevent the wild speculation that always seems to dog my erstwhile friend.
Our friendship has always been somewhat tempestuous but, for the main part, the partnership has been fruitful and mutually beneficial. Clashes of personality and temperament always become apparent whenever travelling with someone over an extended period of time, and minor irritants are sometimes chaffed into mortal wounds by the general stress of late nights, substandard lodgings, cramped transportation and general travel fatigue. The Iinfrequent but much discussed differences between us were, in most instances, caused by that grain of irritation which comes with living cheek by jowl. From such irritants peals often grow. Sadly, in a small number of cases, ulcers are cultivated too. Despite everything that has happened, I steadfastly maintain that our journeys have produced more pearls than ulcers.
The occasional flare-ups between Bubbles and myself have not been helped by the fact that, due to this blog, our friendship has been lived, to some degree, in the public eye. I must take a full measure of responsibility for this. The wild speculation and exaggeration that swirls around our adventuring and the intense analysis of our actions and activities is my fault alone. That is has led on occasion to animosity and hostility between us is something I constantly dwell upon and always regret.
Unfortunately, Bubbles does have a dark side. Luckily, few are acquainted with the gremlins that sadly lurk in his soul. This is as it should be. Everyone is entitled to a private life, even those special few whose exploits generate attention of a kind which ensures ownership of their life and lifestyle passes to the general mob, whose acquaintance with the individual is limited to the Chinese-whisper anecdotes that accompany anyone of true individualism and class.
Behind the lively public raconteur lives an intensely private sock monkey and it would be neither fair nor proper for me to give oxygen to private fires, the light and heat of which belong only to those whose feelings kindle the flames. We all fail in action and spirit and the blame as often lies as much with the person taking offence as the one doing the offending.
His errors of judgement and wildly erratic behaviour; the Vatican fistfight, the misappropriation of Mr Farouk Habibi’s camel and subsequent demolition of two thirds of the Great Souk of Damascus, even his muddle-headed and frankly bizarre attempts to smuggle hashish into Amsterdam in my backpack, have all been well documented to varying degrees of accuracy in the grubbier sections of the international press. On those issues I will maintain my silence except to say that they were very much the actions of a sock monkey struggling to come to terms with some deeply personal issues relating to his uncertain parentage.
My door remains open to Bubbles and I sincerely hope that, at some point in the future, we resume our world travels together. However, space between us at this time is vitally important not just for me, but for Bubbles too. I am ashamed to say that my presence all-to-often led directly to the unsavoury or dangerous circumstances in which Bubbles would place himself and his friends. I, like many people, am guilty of goading Bubbles into impulsive and unpredictable action in the hope of being pulled along on the bow wave of his wild adventuring. This selfish manipulation of a truly free spirit is to my eternal shame. I am as much to blame as he.
Finally, I ask that you respect Bubbles’ privacy. I am not in direct contact with him at this time but sincerely believe that he will get in touch with his public as soon as his treatment allows. Please do not do anything to hamper his recovery.
That is all,
Dale Atkinson
3 comments:
Love love love it.
Dictated by Bubbles with the permission of the Matron:
“The clinic where I’m rehabilitating myself is really nice. And the people, well, we’re like family. There's the head Matron, a really understanding woman who knows what’s best for all her patients. There’s also the Warden, the Chief Medications Officer, the guy who tightens the wrist straps during our electric shock treatments, the four security guys who restrain patients when they try to escape. Yeah, you could say we really get on well. They know about my former life with Dale, all the drugs, booze and women. They’ve helped me appreciate new interests, like books on carpentry. Soon, I plan to take up carpentry, when ‘the family’ think I’m ready. I've asked the matron for a small rock hammer that I can use to carve chess pieces from quartz. I also like a variety of religions and the soy-based meals they feed us here. The old temptation-satisfying days are behind me now. Although, some nights, when the howls of the patients in the cell next to mine become unbearable, I escape by going places in my head and I always end up with Dale, drinking cold beer and talking about our dislike of the commercial world, and work, and public transportation, and pretty girls who know they’re pretty. In some ways, it feels…I don’t know…like I was living..."
You can send Bubbles to Australia, where I will kindly perform some sock surgery on him to fix up my terrible sewing efforts.
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