I So, you shared the moment with me Or at least that it is something I would like to think so, 'We all hate ourselves if we are honest,' I tell someone in the pub because I am in belligerent mood, And that is my idea of a fun time But does not always coincide with the enjoyment of others. This is a blood sport. Something extreme. I do not want to do it. I'm not being very articulate But self-expression is very hard sometimes, OK? Friends are people you can annoy in safety, Who take it as a joke and facilitate sarcasm: 'I'm only like this to hide my vulnerable inner self' Which is kind of true, but Not much of an answer. The people turn away, And I realise I have nothing more to tell them. II But the irony is extremity can come From what people think boring And worthy only of slippered old men. So Andrew and myself went for a walk In the gentle sunshine to the Rock and Spindle, And came back sunburnt but happy. 'We have seen all the extremes of human emotion. Despair and Hope' We said then burst into laughter. It was bloody funny really. To us at any rate. So went for our walk. First through the busy town Sunny Sunday afternoon in early May, First weekend of sun that year, really. There are tourists with screaming children. I walk into a dog that is not looking where it is going. Stupid thing. Andrew says it is my fault But I put the blame on the dog, which I believe it fair. Soon, of course, the town ends to allow the sea to begin. Nobody seems to be swimming. Instead they eat ice cream and sit. We walk onwards to escape the beach that on busy days Is really just an expansion of the town, and equally overwhelming. Soon the boredom of everyday life fades Leaving a new, wonderful boredom Focused on the matter in hand. We walk on and sweat, unused to the sun. We feel the euphoria of escape and look at the sea And feel, well, amazed, because of the way It just carries on, the waves just keep coming, Still they come in, and anything I could possibly say Is irrelevant compared to that sight. So we walked on because there was nothing else to do. Past the caravan park, talk cleverly About the ironies of static caravans, But after that we stop talking. Normal, empty conversation Would now be inappropriate. An odd change has come And we are now comfortable in silence As there is so much to be said Any attempt at articulation will fail. We reach the rock Rock and Spindle, An interesting formation (so Andrew tells me) Created by a now extinct volcano. We sit for a while, then walk home happily. A happy day. Sunburnt but pleased with ourselves.