I woke ridiculously early this morning. The phone alarm clock went off, and woke me from the most ridiculous dream I had in quite some time.
In the moments before I woke I was on a rugby field, except we were playing with a huge ball - like the ones people sit on. My Dad ran onto the field (he’s a big guy), and shouted “I’ll show you how to do it” - and ran straight into the biggest player on the pitch - sandwiching the ball between them. They bounced away from each other a few steps, and then my Dad took a running kick at the ball, still held by the huge player - only he missed the ball (perhaps on purpose), and kicked the player in the nuts - really hard. The guy clutched his bits and bobs, and keeled over like a mighty oak true.
And that was the very moment my alarm clock went off. I haven’t had quite such an entertaining dream in quite some time.
After dragging myself out of bed a little before 7, I finished packing clothes into bags, left some chocolates on the desk for the hotel staff, and made my way down to check out of the hotel.
Walking out into the cold morning air was strange really - Selkirk had been my home for the last couple of weeks, and I had hardly seen it. While shops were open in the daytime I had been holed up in an office across town, and during the weekend I had been out walking the Eildon hills. I did have a look on the middle Sunday, but as with many rural communities, almost everything was shut.
After sitting in the bus stop next to the marketplace for a few minutes the bus for Edinburgh appeared, and I left my temporary home behind. I spent most of the journey marvelling at the technology on the bus - a live readout of our current location, and minute accurate estimate of arrival time at our destination. I figured it must have been using GPS, and wished buses at home had similar capabilities.
Edinburgh was cold, and very windy. I had planned on walking down to the Scott Monument, just a little way down from the station, but it was so bitterly cold and overcast I figured the photos would be hopeless anyway. After grabbing something to eat in the railway station, I jumped on the train towards Euston, and here I sit, whistling across the countryside. I managed to bag a table on the train, and a powerpoint, so yet again I am “online” for the journey (on my phone at least).
Time to read the book I brought, I guess. Or watch any of the multitude of TV shows I secreted onto the external hard drive and didn’t watch while away. Actually - that’s a lie. I became totally addicted to a little known TV show called “Comic Book Men”, starring the staff of Jay and Bob’s Secret Stash - a comic book store in the US. It sounds ridiculously nerdy, and it kind of is - but it’s also incredibly funny.
Time to nerd out…
The last hour on the train has been a living hell. A group of six or seven young scottish men got on the train, and have been drinking solidly since getting on. They have got louder and louder throughout, and are now shouting conversations at each other as you might in a nightclub - except we’re not in a nightclub - we’re in an otherwise silent train carriage. One of them is by far the best at profanity - in two consecutive sentences he managed to include two “Fuckings”, and one “Bloody. Impressive.
There is a pretty girl sat just in front of them - facing me. In a parallel universe I might invite her to come and sit with me, to escape them - if only by a few feet.
I have another two hours to put up with them. At the moment I’m trying to drown them out by playing the soundtrack from Rock of Ages at maximum volume in my headphones. It doesn’t stop the occasional Tarzan yodel from getting through to my ears, but it’s better than nothing.
Two new passengers just got on the train, and are experiencing the “entertainment” for the first time. I wonder how long they will last ?
One of the scottish guys hasn’t sat in his seat for the last two hours - I think he’s going for some kind of record.