'Nothing a drink down the pub can't solve' - for James Oakes

Story number four, written in the glamorous St Maxine, hope you enjoy.

Hmm, I really do wish I could come up with something witty for this, oh well if wishes were horses...I'd actually be in quite a lot of trouble, come to think of it, what am I going to do about his awful presentation? Grit my teeth and blag it I suppose?

Round and round, James had mused, pondered and procrastinated for what seemed months now, and still his only solution was to blag it. Surely there was a little more nous in this head of his?

The presentation was a 'big deal', friends, family and colleagues would or should be waiting on his every word, to discover the results of 5 years of pondering. Some had thought him bold, others stupid, that he should take on a project with such revolve.

Looking back it seemed so daft. "To what is my purpose in life?" He had declared to his small audience quite out of the blue. Yes he was prone to day dreaming, but that was at the cost of not speaking much. Not to say he didn't have deep thoughts, challenge big questions.  He did. He just never usually talked about it.

"To sit and drink beer with friends" Chris had joked

James had considered this, his eyes already misting over in thought. " perhaps, but I'm going to crack it. I'm going to think about it, really work it out. It's a puzzle it must be solvable".

And so he had. Night after night he mused, read about the subject,  completed numerous life coach surveys, listed his strengths against his weaknesses,  dreamt imaginable and unimaginable dreams, and the time slowly seeped away.

Given how doggedly he had pursued it Chris had figured they make an event of the 'revelation day'. Same day, same time, just 5 years on and with a bigger audience,  all eager to know what twist awaited James's life.

Speculation was rampant amongst his friends

" He is going to jack it all in and draw comics" said one

"Nah robotics! Back to school to study robotics" said another

"A playwright"

"A banker"

"A philosopher"

"An archaeologist"

James had consider all of these guesses. His friends knew him well enough. It intrigued him what they thought he might do with his future. None were close though, none were even near, except perhaps if you allow someone who thinks a lot to label themselves a philosopher?  Perhaps at a stretch he could be that? He wouldn't mind that as a job title. Imagine, to be able to write that on your passport application!

He chuckled, thinking to himself,  "sometimes I sits and thinks and sometimes I just sits". If I could be paid to think, and mastered the art of disguising the gormless expression that crosses my face when I am indeed just sitting, how would they know? I could be paid to 'just sit'! Hmm sounds easy enough. Might get boring though.

Anyway you can see how easy it was for James to go off on a tangent. All those evenings,  all that reading, sitting and thinking. How much had been 'just sitting'? And how much golden insight had he gleamed when actually thinking? Evidently not much if his current predicament was anything to go by.

Perhaps an epiphany?  A voice from God?  A miracle sign that would come to him at the exact moment he stood to address them? He was clutching at straws.  5 years and not a clue what to say.

He googled 'witty quotes on life'. Scanned through the results, chuckled at a number, and then realised he was procrastinating again, and slammed the laptop shut. He flicked through his note pads, spread his mind maps on the bed, looked and looked again waiting for something to jump out and smack him square between the eyes. And when that didn't happen he put on his coat and slumped of to the pub to face the music.

"Welcome oh wise one" hollered Chris from the bar.

A crowd had already arrived, a pint ready and waiting opposite the mock throne that was his bar stool at the head of the table. He sat heavily, half hoping the seat would give way, anything to distract from...

Too late.

"Well come on then mate, don't leave us in suspense any longer" Chris was back with a round and obviously giddy with excitement and prior liquid fuel.

James shrank down on his seat, but another friend pulled him up.

"Well..erm." come on lighting bolt, come on clarity, anything please! Nothing came. James gulped and quietly said "I haven't the foggiest, I guess what I'm doing now. I'm happy".

His audience sat stunned, a few mimicking fish with their mouths gaping. His answer had been honest, sincere. He was happy. He had good friends,  enjoyed his work, nice house etc, did he really need a greater purpose? Hey, with any luck his answer may even have scored him a few brownie points at work. They must surely have thought he would quit?

"Really,  that's it? 5 years of philosophising and your great words of wisdom are 'havent a foggiest'!" His friend laughed a deep belly laugh

"Well hell at least he is happy, not everyone is" quipped another

"Only you could whittle away 5 years only to say 'haven't the foggiest' scoffed Chris.

And so it continued,  with friends in friendly banter, all answering life's big questions with a pint in one hand, supporting their chin with the other.

The End