Cider Tramp

Lately, it has all been about The House; our real quest for an archetypal place of secure residence. Some balance is required, firstly because too much poignancy will make you sick and secondly because the rest of the world is still there, shuffling uncomfortably while you mutter to yourself.
Embarrassment may cause you to refer to yourself in the third person, maybe even the third person plural, Lily Tequila, and all of her aliases, awkwardly note.
So, still believing that in the particular lies the universal, I look outside myself and pick this for a subject. It has the essential edge of oddness.

Cider Tramp.
This is a terrible thing to name a person, obviously, but then so is village idiot. Sometimes the external labelling is socially understandable, if not wholly acceptable. Every village needs an idiot, it could be argued, this idiot being a vital unifying force, a source of comedy, provider of the jester function, the safety valve of social pressure.
Towns have cider tramps, though I hesitate to say they are necessary. I would be happy if they all got sober. But there they are, drinking cheap white cider, symbols of subdued hope, giving us something to talk about. Let us not be judgemental. They are undeniably part of the human condition and experience, because we all are. These notes are, by intention, only observational.
We haven’t seen our town drunk for a week or two, so the perpetual rumour that this time he is really dead is due to surface soon.
I did hear an educational story from a neighbouring town. It centred on their resident alcoholic, who drank so much cider his teeth floated out. Not all in one day: they changed angles and came adrift over time. Sometimes a slow moving target is easy to miss.
“What’s up with your teeth?’ was a frequent question.
“There’s nothing wrong,” he decided, errantly.
Therein, the lesson.


Rubye Jack said…
Yelp, it's all a matter of perception. I love the photo of the shoe. A modern day Van Gogh's shoes.
Lynn Proctor said…
uh oh now i am going to be afraid to keep drinking my apple cider vinegar--good post!
Teresa Cypher said…
I had never before heard the expression "cider tramp". Your painting is powerful!
Lisa Southard said…
Thank you all :-)
I do like this shoe, Rubye, exactly the sort of thing to be found in these fields, and I can imagine the previous owner liked a swig or two. Glad I have these photos to prompt my memory.
Has to be really cheap cider, Lynn, to qualify you as a real cider tramp.
And Teresa, this phrase came to me whilst I was walking past a bus stop bench. I knew I was on to a good thing!
When I lived in a village in Kent I used to fear that I was probably regarded as the village idiot because I was the only person that walked everywhere (everyone else used to go around in 4 x 4s). I could imagine them saying as they sped by "Good god - there's that crazy woman WALKING again!" There was no cider involved though.

I love your post! And the painting is amazing and I agree with Teresa, it's really powerful.
Lisa Southard said…
Walking makes for a more appreciative journey I think, Pins and Needles; it's good to go your own way, particularly if no cider is involved. And thank you very much :-)

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