There are a few things that I know to be true. I know that Geoff Dyer is tall. I know he is a creature of habit. I know that his main priority is to find the best cappuccino and croissant in town. Any town. In fact, to call it a ‘main priority’ infers that there are lesser priorities when there simply are none. To locate a town’s best cappuccino and croissant is his calling; his life.
I continued on the coastal path, along which Russians, Brits and Australians sat on plastic chairs drinking morning beers, drinking the antithesis of my quest for purpose. A morning beer is the liquid defiance of purpose, a signalling to the world that for the drinker, purpose no longer exists. Neither does morning, for that matter. A morning beer may as well just be a beer for once a morning beer is drunk, time as we know it ceases to exist except, of course, for when it’s time for the next one.