There was a reason for this

I am sitting in a pub known as The Feathers. It's situated in the Great Yarmouth, England suburb of Gorleston, a place I had called home for nearly a year.

That particular day I am in a funk and in an emotional impasse. Soon my wife of the day and I are slated to return to Canada. My emotional angst stems from the fact I do not want to go back. I do not want to rejoin my life as it was. For a number of reasons, including some of which I am not proud, I do not want to rejoin my marriage on the other side of the Atlantic.

I sit quietly nursing my pint of Norwich Castle Bitter and somebody strides over to the jukebox (they had those back in 1981). He inserts a coin and hits his selection. It's Gerry Rafferty's almost agonizingly (for me) poignant piece Baker Street. The saxophone riffs in that song devastate me if I am in a down mood. It also captures so much of what I have been feeling about giving "up the booze and the one-night-stands, and maybe settling down in some quiet little town and forgetting about everything."

Ultimately I did go back to my own little town, and my dog Murphy who inspired me to return more than anything or anyone. I was finding it painfully sad in terms of what had happened to the hopes and dreams of a marriage and a lifestyle. So, dutifully I guess, I went back.

But, ever afterwards a hearing of Baker Street takes me back to that rainy afternoon in a Gorleston pub.

Life is so very much better now, but the pathos still hits.

Life's like that.

Enjoy the music.