Journeying

"If adventures will not befall a young lady in her own village, she must seek them abroad"

- (Jane Austen)

"You know you're in love when you can't fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams"

- (Dr Seuss)




I never usually bother to search for a seat on the train. I like sitting in the little compartment between carriages. No bustle. No passing victims of obesity to squeeze back against the window in respect of. No reproachful stares when "Gloria" loudly and unexpectedly drum-rolls into climax, and you hastily lower the volume feeling like a martyr to musical fulfillment. Plus it's fun painting nails in solitary, crouching unobtrusively in the rumbling joints of the train, watching the world flash by like milestones to placate my impatience. There's a certain satisfaction in letting open pots of varnish fumigate my own little plot while my speakers set to work dispersing invisible double-quaver symbols over the click-clack-crash of the wheels&tracks mash-up.

Of course,when seatlessness is complusory due to an overly full quota of irritated passengers, it is a less enjoyable experience. Especially when you're pressed up against the toilet doors opposite a balding businessman spread-eagled against the wall and a grubby-fingered youth playing packman by your left elbow. Especially when you don't really want to be going home at all.

But it'll be a whole week of GP next time. And this weekend i've got a fair few things to keep me distracted; shopping, mother's (aka being a good daughter) day, and coursework with a capital C. Holly and I are planning an end-of-term gathering/break-up bash. We're writing proper invitations, for keepsakes, no frivolous fast-forgotten facebook groups for us!... I've been writing letters to people recently too, for the same reason. When I'm old - say, 40, eh mother?;) - I want to leaf through bundles of envelopes, addresses and inkstains that stamp the journey of my life. Not browse through briefly-typed sentiments long faded into the virtual landfill site of ancient e-debris. I want my now-nearest-and-dearest to chuckle, giggle, smile or grin to their kids as they bore them with my clumsy stream-of-consciousness correspondence...
Oh how pretentious of me!
It's acceptable now and then...