It's the end of an era.
I no longer have a guru/badman/oracle/chef/villainous bezzin to pester whenever. The badman has gone back to his lair up north, where my path to his retreat is a perilous 4 hour voyage into the unknown, rather than a 20-minute mosey into his recent nag-champa and lentil riddled abode of unknown that I have been familiar with for the past three years.
Okay, this new reality may not seem so bad. I definitely took for granted the fact that the hermit oracle of myth was essentially on my doorstep, rather than up the mountain jewelled with brimstone. Retrieving nuggs of enlightenment and damn good braised tofu will be easy no more; I must from now on rely on the power of satellites, carrier pigeons and/or charged crystals. Strapped onto the pigeons for added potency.
I think we gave him a nice send-off. The weather was lovely, we had a little campfire where he came into his own. He became the real man I'd only heard rumours about. The fire was made with sheer testosterone only, potates were baked, guitars were strummed and songs were sung, yet the sweaty overcrowded tent was too much for the manly man, he quickly and quietly scarpered back to landlubber house-comfort. The pussy.
The rest of us were man enough to deal with the wet, sweat, farts and loud loud rain. I swam into consciousness to find myself with a swollen head and epic victory sweats. It wasn't all bad though. I rewarded everyone with tasty vegan corn scone-muffin-scones (infiltrating my friends with vegan treats is never hard) and we all went to the beach.
MAN WONG, I WILL MISS YOU. I didn't think about it at the time, but I really will. It's totally okay though, we'll visit and stuff. It's just gay it can't really be on a whim.
I KNOW YOU'LL GET BORED OF NORFOLK AND YOU'LL BE BACK. YOU'RE A SCOUNDREL AND A NASTY PIECE OF WORK.