The blistering sun on our backs as we approached the half built house, dilapidated tractors and log lifting devices blocked us as we past.
We walked shouting his name as we wished for his survival, to greet us at the door but instead march flys welcomed our arrival.
Batteling though the overgrown garden in a state of disrepair, we knocked once, knocked twice and still no body, so we entered shouting Bernie are you there?
From behind a dirty cracked window a torso rose from the dusty sheets, an old man with bright white hair lifted with a reluctant sigh of relive.
It wasn't time, he wasn't ready to talk and entertain guests, we had been the first ones here in a year or so, its time to break from your rest.
So relax, drink a beer, have a few smokes too, some fruit and veggies on the table, so tell me how are you?
He said I'm fine and proceeded to tell of how his mind was drifting, he went to the doctors and asked whats wrong but they gave him a dose of Vitamins.
He said doctor whats the problem, I'm losing my drive, I sleep all day an cant go outside. The doctor replied youll soon be 95.
Here we sat in a kitchen, lounge slash bedroom with Bernie the English man, a ten pound pom who had been forgotten by his fam.
So here's the tale of Bernie the burn out he is slowly saying goodbye, life is short and the chances are, it goes in the blink of an eye.
Take care of the old and make sure you never make them feel rejected, because one day you'll be in the same place watching as the world becomes so hectic.