h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

A small part of paulh's Hooverville story really touched me the other day. One of my characters was based on a lovely guy I used to know and Paul brought back some memories for me. Thank you Paul.

Everyone needs cuddles.


Many years ago I had a workmate, lovely guy, not that you'd think so by looking at him, not that anybody ever looked too hard.

'Cuddles' was the type of guy you didn't stare at. Six seven and probably as broad as he was tall. Big scary biker type dude, all hair, tattoos and windburn. Tougher than leather, as Willie once sang.

Really, really nice guy, for those brave enough to get close.

And that was the problem, nobody did. Not really, myself included.

Good workmate, great sense of humour and always willing to put himself out for anyone. At work that was.

Once we'd clocked off and our bikes had turned their separate ways that was it. No after work drinks, didn't attend Christmas parties, leaving dos, invitations to come over for a meal always politely refused. Stopped asking him to come for a ride with the lads after the umpteenth refusal.

Bit of a loner, a big, scary looking, but very polite loner. Each to his own.

Very private guy, always changed the subject when we talked about our wives and/or girlfriends. Cuddles wore a big heavy wedding ring but never spoke of his home life. Ever. Five years we worked together, not one word.

Then, one early shift, I pulled up in the car park and there was Cuddles, sitting astride his big Honda, engine running. Head slumped, shoulders heaving. Cuddles, big, scary looking Cuddles was crying like a baby.

Turns out Cuddles was married. His husband had lost his fight like so many did in the eighties.

This big scary looking dude had been terrified of revealing his 'secret' at work, worried about the response from his colleagues if they knew he was living and caring for someone he loved, someone who was dying of the most dreaded disease of the time.

That's why he refused to come on works nights out, refused to meet up, have a drink, even talk about his life.

We spent most of that day talking, laughing and crying together, work forgotten, he just poured his heart out, relieved that he was accepted and loved for who he was, but sad that he'd felt the need to keep the most important part of his life unnecessarily covered up.

Really enjoyed his friendship over the next eighteen months.

He eventually moved away, we kept in touch for a few years until I heard the sad news he'd passed away too, losing a brief battle with cancer.

I hope Cuddles and his husband have been reunited and are riding together through the afterlife, just being themselves, happy together again.

Never judge a book by the cover, there may be someone underneath that big, scary looking exterior, someone who just needs a cuddle.

Beautifully said!

Beautifully said indeed...

Arsenio would only have been half as tall as Cuddles. But size isn't everything....

Arsenio doesn't distinguish today's loneliness from that of the day before. Love,as he knows it, is the love of admirable aunts and grandmothers, and a lovely, multitalented niece, and friends who appreciate him for what he is, not what he isn't.

And a love of the moment, which often has surprises and the chance of unexpected pleasure. A young customer who gazes, surprised, at some lovely piece of porcelain, or a well-made toy. A toy train system, or a miniature village. Even a plate like "Hay field," whose cloudy sky is something you can look at for a long time without getting tired of it.

The birds who nest in the pickle yew tree. The mourning doves who sit on a telephone wire across the street, The black eyed Susans which spring up form seeds that have been blown for miles, peeking out form the petunias that Arsenio planted along the edge of the raised garden.

Even the dandelions, which can even grow in the cracks in the sidewalk. The bumblebees always seem to be in love with them

Thanks for the reminder, FWR.
(Stupid dust getting in my eyes!)

Thanks for reading folks