Loneliness is a solitary word on an otherwise blank sheet of paper, waiting for an inspired writer to add others to it, in order to produce a poem, a story, or at least an idea to make others think.

It's also a state of mind. One person could spend all their life in solitary confinement, and not feel lonely. Another person could be lonely in a crowd. I am happy to live alone, with regular enough contacts with others to prevent my alone-ness becoming loneliness. A woman I know, on the other hand, has to have company, and cannot bear to spend even a day without inflicting herself on some neighbour!

I think it has a lot to do with how much of your own company you can stand. Do you like being alone with yourself? Are you comfortable with just yourself to rely on? Do you resent others intruding on your solitude? Do you find that you have to have conversation, and if you can't get it, you're willing to talk to yourself?

Some years ago, I found out the answers to these questions, at least for myself. For a few months I found myself being paid for enjoying my own company, with nobody to intrude upon my train of thought, apart from regularly scheduled visits.

I was the receptionist at Lagrange One, the space station at the halfway point between Earth and the Luna Colony, along with the manager of the facility. When he was taken ill, and had to be evacuated, I was left to cope alone. Upper management offered me triple wages to stay on until they could train a new manager to take over. I knew the job inside out, and though my work load would be somewhat heavier, I knew that I'd cope. It was just the thought of being alone on LOSS for six months that had me more than a little worried. I'd never been totally alone before, so I was quite apprehensive. But I thought of the money and gritted my teeth. I could do it!

And do it I did. I found a place deep inside where I could live in peace within myself. With the help of books and movies and lots of classical music echoing through the corridors, I soon discovered that I wasn't at all desperate for the next set of people to pass through on their journeys between Earth and the moon. I was the true master of my domain, enjoying the freedom to be myself.

Of course I appropriated the master suite, so that I could enjoy the tremendous view at will. With my normal quarters only affording a view of the moon, I was only able to see all the phases of the Earth, the changes in orientation, the weather systems, and the scudding white clouds trying without success to obscure that little blue green planet. With all the madness going on down there, living up here put plenty of distance between me and the troubles besetting much of the human race.

So, as you can see, my stint as sole operative of Lagrange One suited me right down to the ground, so to speak. Nobody has ever been so alone, so far from the nearest person as I was, and few people could take it, but I could. I almost resented the day it all came to an end, the day the replacement manager was trained up enough to join me on the station. For six months I had been the loneliest, remotest person in the Universe, and the most contented. Who needs people anyway, when you're Joe Public, the Lord Mayor, the State Premier, the Prime Minister, the King, the Emperor, even God, all rolled into one! No need to bother with all the fancy titles. Just call me Sir!

© Sandy Parkinson 20/11/2006. Word count: 639