Life for sale

You get some strange stories in the news. This one on the BBC site took my eye the other day: New challenge for life sale man.

Dido sang about having her Life for Rent: this bloke went and put his life for sale. Apparently he tried to eBay his whole life, but didn’t attract sufficient serious interest:

… The 44-year-old, who left Darlington for Australia six years ago, decided to sell everything, including his house, job and friends when his wife left him.

No sufficient bids materialised and he has returned …

Why is he surprised he didn’t get any serious bids? Even his wife: the one person on the planet who has some legally-binding reason to be with him, didn’t want to hang around any longer. Surely that can’t be a good omen for any potential investors?

So your life is crap and you up sticks and leave for foreign lands. Fair enough. Some men buy a motorbike or a small sports car when they suddenly become single again. Some, like our Mr Usher, decide to move to a distant place. It’s an acceptable thing to do.

But he’s now back, fulfilling a “lifelong ambition”. And thus we reach what may hint towards a deep-rooted problem. Bearing in mind this bloke could move anywhere and dip his toe into some of the most heavenly waters on the planet, swim with dolphins, or serenely swallow-dive off some of the world’s most beautiful natural cliffs into tranquil ponds miles away from civilisation. What does he come back to the North East for?

… he has returned to carry out one of his ambitions, diving from the top board of a swimming pool in Darlington.

Reading the story a bit closer, we find that Darlington wasn’t even his first choice:

On his return to Darlington he said: “I wanted to dive off the top board at Bishop Auckland swimming baths but they don’t have boards anymore so I went to the Dolphin centre in Darlington.

So what next for our intrepid explorer? Going out in the rain without an umbrella in South Shields? Could it be driving down the A19 at 75mph? Perhaps eating a piece of brie a day past its use-by-date? There’s three for starters matey.

Ranulph Fiennes must be wetting himself.