Camp was already waiting for me and as soon as I sat down, he read me this little speech: ‘Here is one for ages: When the main course for your life’s evening dinner is money and power with a side dish of old age, accompanied by a bottle of your enemy’s blood, what’s for dessert? A bit of hate with some old, ripe grievances? Maybe some hostile revenge with a spot of envy? And when you finally lay down your spinning head full of meds and bad memories what is missing?’. 

‘Was that a quote or did you make it up after a bad day at the store?’

‘I had had it written down in my notes. Not sure but the essential question still remains.’

‘You mean what is missing in that cynic’s smorgasbord. Let me think. I would guess the meaning of it all.’

‘The meaning of life?’

‘If you like.’

‘I could go back to Carlyle or Goethe or Schopenhauer or Nietzsche or even Monty Python. They all had plenty to say and speculate about the meaning of life but the essence of life itself surely lies in the fact that we can celebrate it. With dance and art, stories, experiences and memories. The fact that we can overcome obstacles and suffering, illness and disease and live to tell the tale in many forms and mediums surely adds meaning to life.’

‘You’re in a philosophical mood today, Camp. What brought that on?’

‘Muriel and I were talking the other night about how tenuous our existence is. We were watching the depressing news about the war in Israel and Gaza, about the ludicrous and dysfunctional US congress lurching precariously towards a fascist autocracy; about the desperate war the Ukrainians are fighting against Putin and their own relatives – now arch enemies – and then the power went out. Suddenly we’re sitting around fumbling for candles and flash lights. No internet, no TV, no lights and no water since we’re on a pump. Even the clocks stopped.’

‘I remember, Clare and I just sat outside watching the sky without light pollution. It was quite beautiful. We felt so small and insignificant but peaceful and serene.’

‘When the power came back on, we were relieved but almost sorry it was over. For a short time, life suddenly seemed a lot simpler. That was until we needed hot water or heat or the internet. Still, it felt like we were living in the moment, just for those few hours.’

We both focused on our beers for a moment.

‘What can we do?’ I asked, staring into my empty glass.

‘Be aware, be safe, be kind and try to get Rosie’s attention.’

‘After Covid people suddenly woke up and said to themselves: Now is the time to travel, to buy that house, to spend that money. Forget about long-term planning and live it up while we still can. Before inflation and interest rates put a stop to it all. There is a prevailing sense of foreboding permeating the common consciousness. Maybe we don’t have that long, maybe this party will come to an end soon.’ 

‘Rather fatalistic aren’t we. It’s the worrying state of the world amplified by all the media that’s got to you.’

 ‘Tell me about it. We’re being bombarded with bad news as soon as we open our phones, turn on the telly or open the newspaper.  Extreme weather, extreme politics, extreme views and wacky, extreme conspiracy theories,’ 

‘We’re two passengers on a 1^st class cosmic train my friend, traveling through space and time. Not much we can do to influence its direction or speed or what we pick up on the way. There is some fleeting meaning to all this; just for the moment and then it’s gone.’

‘Are you two having a laugh?’ Rosie asked, collecting our empties.

Not sure if she was just being sarcastic. 

‘We’ll give you a big smile when you bring us another round,’ Camp said with a grin.