Reading time: 4 mins
I woke that Saturday morning before my alarm, had I set one, would’ve rang. I lay in bed for a moment. I can still remember that feeling of the bed being perfectly warm, not too hot, not too cold, and no matter which way I moved I was instantly comfortable. I fought the easy desire to go back to sleep as, whilst I had no plans, I did want to make the most of this particular day.
Having no plans was a strange thing for me.
In short order, once I was old enough, I moved from my parents house to my girlfriends flat, we got married, we moved several times, we separated and got back together again, and then we got divorced. I moved into my own flat (my very own for the first time!) and fell straight into another relationship, that became relationships until one day I realised why I wasn’t happy. Not because of the people in those relationships but because of me, I wanted to be alone.
And so, some weeks later I woke up in bed. Alone, no relationship, just me.
I had deliberately left the day free although I’m not sure why. That does make it sound like I’d planned the day to be empty which is, obviously, a plan in an of itself but that wasn’t my intent, rather I’d aimed to allow myself to have a day that unfolded before me in whatever pattern it decided. I hadn’t checked the weather, hadn’t thought about where I could go, what I would do.
So it was inevitable, I guess, that I took myself on a coffee walk.
Typically I try and limit myself to 4 coffees a day max, and try not to drink any caffeine after about 4pm so I have at least a chance of sleep, but I also had no plans on the following Sunday so, caution to the wind (how very rock n roll of me!) I decided I’d just work my way along one of the busier roads in the West End of Glasgow and stop for coffee as and when I saw a place I liked the look of!
Abstaining from coffee at home was the first hurdle – how automatically we fall into our routines, I pulled a mug from the cupboard and had started to fill the kettle before I realised what I was doing – so after a quick bite to eat I grabbed a jacket, my headphones, and set off.
The first stop was a place called Meadow Road. Little did I know that, a few years later, I would move much closer to it and it would become a favourite of my (now wife) girlfriend and I, so much so that I still drop in when I can to chat to Billy about whatever nonsense has happened since I last managed to visit.
After that it was a wander along past Space (tiny place but great coffee), then up Byres Road to a coffee shop that isn’t there anymore (and which I only dived into because the rain has started) before heading to TInderbox and then up towards Great Western Road to Papercup before heading home.
I wandered in and out of shops as my mood deemed fit, I meandered here, I diverted myself there, and largely just set a rough course of destination based on the next coffee house.
I had no time in mind, I had no reason to rush, nothing to get home for, no-one checking in on me to see what I was up to, it was remarkably freeing. I can remember sitting with my final coffee in the Botanic Gardens, finding a dry enough bench to pause and enjoy the fresh early autumn weather.
It wasn’t the last time I spent such aimless time with myself but it was the first in almost my entire adult life. Not because I was single, but because I’d chosen to allow myself to do it.
It was something that stuck with me, even if I didn’t apply it as often as I should’ve, that sense of allowing myself space to just be, to be present, to be open, to let my thoughts meander. It was the beginning of my own realisation that I was a bit lost. That I’d spent so long being there for other people, so long planning, setting goals, and compromising myself within relationships (not a bad thing but still a thing), that I had no idea who I really was and what I really wanted.
A few weeks later I started counselling with a view of ‘getting some help’. I told my family and friends, confirming that I didn’t feel depressed I just felt a bit stuck. It was the best thing I ever did for myself, and it still resonates to this day, still helps me understand my own actions and emotions, still helps me process life in a way that doesn’t sit as heavily on me as it used to.
It was just a day drinking coffee, walking familiar streets between rain showers.
But I don’t think I’d have been able to get through the past year or so without having taken that walk all those years ago, without realising that some days don’t have to be about anything other than existing, breathing one breathe after another. I find myself returning more and more to that feeling these past few years, putting aside anything else and experiencing the now; a walk in Mugdock with Becca and the dogs, a lazy rainy morning spent with Jack, and even the odd times I find myself staring out the window in a daydream.
Growing up my bedroom looked out at the Braehead roundabout, a couple of streets removed, but I’d sit at my desk and ignore my homework and watch the cars driving down the hill. I did this so often that I soon knew the car models just by their headlights. It’s something I’ve always done, had a little daydream but as I got older I started to training myself out of it, entering adulthood with important things on my mind and no time to daydream.
Thinking back to that day, walking along the streets of Glasgow, peer into shop windows, avoiding fellow pedestrians, shallow puddles from the last shower, I can still recall the way my mind wandered. Daydreaming, with no plan ahead of me.
We should all daydream a little more I think, all spend a bit more time NOT worrying about things that will still be there to worry us, NOT dwelling on darker thoughts but giving in to frivolity and whatever life puts in front of us at that moment.
A dandelion in the crack of a pavement, a sudden downpour leaving you soaked to the bone, life will always try and keep you in the present, maybe we should let it.
