Page 46 of ReTreat Yourself

Just as I hear his footsteps on the stairs, an idea forms. I could help him with his English as an extra service, part of the package. A free English lesson from a native speaker. Starting with helping him get to grips with pronouncing his own name correctly.

‘I will give him a mint for his breath,’ Maria-José-Inmaculada-Carmen says.

He is standing in front of her.

He looks at me apprehensively.

‘Hello, Geoff,’ I say, plastering on a smile. ‘Remember me from last week?’

* * *

I take a deep breath, tap my wrists and third eye gently and exhale as slowly as I can. I convince myself to feel positive about today despite the universe’s multiple attempts to sabotage it. I am determined to move Geoff from doing nothing about his business ideas to an action point. I found his last session with Nidi a bit frustrating. Plus, she never once tackled him on his phonics.

‘Now, Geoff…’

‘Jiff,’ he corrects.

‘No, your name’s Geoff,’ I remind him politely.

‘Yis, thit’s what ah sid. It’s short for Jiffrey.’

Good Lord, this could go on for the entire session.

‘What does success look like to you, Geoff? What would you say is the pinnacle?’

He’s so distracted by this bolt from the blue that he dithers a bit.

‘Take your time,’ I say.

About sixty minutes would be ideal.

I get out some paper and suggest we throw some words on there and unpick his thinking. I know the first few words he’ll come up with. According to Google, they’re the words that everybody says when asked this question, so I dive straight in and tell him that he is not allowed to use the words ‘money’, ‘achievement’ or ‘happiness’. This stops him in his tracks.

‘Ah caaahn’t write hippiniss?’ he asks, with eyebrows raised.

‘No, Geoff. It’s lazy sheep-like thinking. It’ll get you nowhere. Now, success, Geoff, what does it look like to you? What will spark joy in your life?’

He takes the pen I offer him and immediately comes up with words like ‘sizeable profits’, ‘empire-building’ and ‘ten-berth luxury yacht’. As I watch him scribble away, those material things seem suddenly childish and meaningless. I can’t help but think of all those years I put in at work, slaving away, the early starts, the late finishes, and not even a yacht to show for it. Why did I bother? Why did I sweat it out each day surrounded by that team of absolute pillocks? Where was the joy or fun in any of it? Have I let life slip me by? Maybe Oliver is right, and it is time I dust myself off and stop wallowing in regrets.

Suddenly I have an idea. I’ll tell Geoff that success should define a way of life, not an endpoint.

‘It’s all about the journey we take, Geoff. The day to day. Not the stuff we buy at the end. I mean, what’s the point in getting the yacht at the end if it cost you thirty years of being miserable? Working life should be fun and rewarding, shouldn’t it?’

I watch as Geoff suddenly stops jotting down words and looks at me. Maybe I have got this wrong.

His face breaks into a broad grin, as if I’ve just announced that he’s due a gigantic tax return.

‘Thit’s it!’ he shouts at me. He stands up. He swivels about and sits back down. His hands fly to the sides of his head as he clutches his hair like a mad professor. ‘Thit’s flaymin it!’ he shouts again and looks wildly at me. ‘Thit’s where ah hev bin going wrong all these yiz!’

‘All these years, Geoff.’ I look at him intently for signs of him taking the piss. I mean, I’ve seen him and Nidi get nowhere, more or less, every session. This seems terribly out of character for him.

‘A way of laff,’ he repeats slowly. ‘Ah need to change my way of laff.’

‘Life,’ I correct.

‘Yis, mah way of laff.’

‘My way of life,’ I articulate carefully for him.