Here we are. It doesn’t look like much, but then we long ago gave up on hoping for something special, something transcendental. It is like living a life amongst all those adverts that promise that this is the product or service that will change your life – this is what you have been all your life waiting for. This is the thing that will make everyone lust after you, love you, make them all jealous of the life you are living; that this is the gold at the end of your rainbow, your Eldorado, your new found land.
Of course, it never is. Occasionally one such product, service, sexual position, method of exercise or whatever the hell it is may be a more pleasant addition to your life, but it is nowhere near the earth-moving orgasmic-like experience promised by the advert, the magazine article, the book, the TV programme, the sexual technique.
In the end you do get use to a life of disappointments, both small – like this – and large. After all, by now your wining goal at the World Cup Final should have been regarded as the greatest sporting moment in the history of human civilisation, your novel should have one every single prize and critical plaudit in the world, that little thing you do that brings on the most mind-shattering orgasm in you partner should have had potential bed-mates eagerly queuing at your bedroom door.
Instead, though, here you are going about this usual life in an ordinary run-of-the-mill town, still waiting for it all to happen and knowing – deep-down - none of it ever will.
Still, though, there is always the chance that – tonight, at least – there may be... just may be… something good on the telly.
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