The Long Dander Home: Being Close to Your Crew

I think I’m getting in the way. Nothing specific drives this feeling—it’s just a tingling sense from a longtime marriage. Although a suggestion from my wife Suzie about “perhaps taking yourself out for a dander would be helpful” could possibly be concrete evidence of my suspicion.

My getting underfoot arises from the fact we’re organizing to return to our permanent home after spending the summer at our vacation house. There’s a lot of things to do, and Suzie has decided I’m only useful when something heavy needs doing—although even then I’m under constant supervision.

After taking Suzie’s suggestion under advisement, I find myself walking along the shoreline thinking about our decision to head home. I’m going to miss being here, a lot. But I guess we have to return to reality sometime, and I’ve things to do and people to see.

My half-acre garden hasn’t been tended for a long time, and I suspect it’s going to be like a jungle. Hopefully I don’t get lost finding the lawnmower! An area of garden decking has developed a slump from a broken subframe, and I want to play with some power tools and start repairing before fall shortens the daylight hours.

Many things are calling us back. My WhatsApp messenger notifications have been giving my phone severe palpitations with the number of alerts from sporting groups organizing for the coming sporting season. I even have my first excuse for rubbish tennis in the barrel—not playing for twelve weeks.

We’ve had lots of friends and family visiting and staying over throughout the summer, but rather annoyingly they don’t stay long enough for me to get under their skin and have fun annoying them until they retaliate. Then we fall into our regular playful and friendly bickering relationships. I’ve had to rely on Suzie for that, but she’s much better than me!

Our little patch of coastal charm has everything we could dream of, but it simply can’t compete with the feeling of friendships and community living in the same place our social circle and family call home. It would seem, although I’m retired and having a ball, somehow it still matters to be close to your crew.

Reaching the end of the empty beach, I linger for a while. Childishly skipping stones into the swell. I guess I had better head back, I’m sure Suzie needs my “help”—it’s time to go pack. Walking back, my mind thinks of home. Oh man, I slowly remember—I have to clear the guttering and the shed roof needs to be fixed …