STAN CULLIMORE

VOICES OF THE WEST COUNTRY

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REGULAR readers of these columns will probably have gathered by now that I am, as a general rule, a reasonably sociable soul, given to spending most of each day smiling, laughing and sniggering in the company of my fellow man. Or woman. Or child. Or all three.

Friends, family or passersby with a friendly face - I'm really not that fussy who or what they are, I’m always happy to talk if they are. Come to think of it, if someone was naming a boat after me, I wouldn't be surprised if they called it, Chatty McChatterbox. Or similar.

Quite frankly, if someone smiles, breathes, chuckles easily and doesn’t mind silly stories too much, then there is every chance we would get on like a pair of ferrets in a pillow case if the chance ever arose. However, it seems those simple smiles and easy words are only one side of the Cullimore coin.

To my surprise, I recently discovered this chatty side of my spirit is not the only game in talkative town. Oh, no. Not at all. Over the last year it has dawned on me that there is a lot to be said, an awful lot to be said, if I’m honest, for the peaceful pleasures of the lonesome life. It turns out, time spent alone is time well spent. It seems that silence really is golden.