Writing Your Name In Water

[CCArchive]

There is a man called Ernest who lives in Rotherham. He's a maudlin character of inconsequential stature and modest worth and somewhere deep in his heart he knows it. Everything he attempts is done to the point of being overdone. His current obsession is geocaching and he's recently knocked up his 17000th find and is being celebrated in caching magazines. Before geocaching it was hill walking and he followed in Wainwrights footsteps. The potential to emulate Wainwright is limited by Wainwrights own achievements so good old Ernie was destined to repeat the walks again and again to glean a morsel of Wainwrights limelight. To what ends? Ernie, like most of us, is destined to live life and leave little or no legacy. John Keats was a maudlin cunt.