After working throughout the entire summer, and disappearing for one long weekend during that time, I finally shut my computer down on Friday evening with no intention of switching it back on for the coming week.
This morning I threw a few clothes into a backpack, and am now sitting on a train, heading towards the south-west for the weekend - to visit my parents. The train is growing increasingly late - with the driver apologising endlessly over the PA system. I’ve already called my parents and told them I’ll know more when I reach Plymouth. I change trains at Plymouth, and head onwards over the Tamar bridge into deepest darkest Cornwall.
At least I have a seat. I’ve somehow bagged an entire table to myself - which seems outlandingly luxurious in comparison to past journeys where I found myself wedged into corners of the entrance and exit way while the train lurched like an over-filled sardine can on it’s four hour journey.
As the journey takes me further from London, you can feel the world slowing down. The mayhem and chaos are slowly dissipating. People don’t seem to be in as much of a rush to get to the next thing, and the next. While walking to the cinema in the week I laughed with my other half about our seeming invisibility in town. People aren’t just self-obsessed any more - they’re oblivious to anybody or anything outside of their bubble.
I’m looking forward to reaching the coast (in the next hour or so). As the train travels travels further south west it will skirt the English Channel, and Atlantic ocean - whistling past beaches and breakwaters along the way.
We’re approaching Exeter St. Davids.
When I was young my Dad had a yacht moored at Exmouth - just inside the protective arc of Dawlish Warren (a huge nature preserve). We would visit each weekend and potter around nearby harbours and ports - a bit like going on a nautical caravanning holiday every weekend.
According to family, I learned to walk on a boat (my Dad had a succession of boats when we were young). My other half would contend that’s the reason my sense of balance is so poor. My Dad sold his final boat a couple of years ago. It feels strange - not having a boat somewhere, after so many years with one.
I’m just smiling to myself. As the train becomes increasingly late, the observation about life slowing down is coming true. I wonder if Einstein accounted for the Great Western Railway timetable in his general theory of relativity? I think it might have messed with his equations quite a lot.
I very much doubt I’ll be able to publish this post anywhere near the internet until this evening, because although Great Western Trains advertise “free wifi” on their trains, the only service it appears to be able to provide is indicating their might be a wifi signal somewhere along the train somewhere, on a good day, with a following wind. Read: there is no wifi.
Let’s give it a try, and see what happens…
(three hours pass)
I’m now safely ensconced at my parent’s house. The train journey turned into an epic trek of sorts, after another train broke down, and the one I was aboard changed route to save the other train’s passengers.
My Dad met me at Liskeard railway station, and we carried on towards home. A few hours later, and I’ve managed to arm-twist them into letting me pay for a Chinese takeaway, and am now trying to stop my Mum re-filling my glass repeatedly.
I’ve switched to coffee now - otherwise I’ll struggle to get up in the morning. Early start to visit my Dad’s flight simulator club. I’ll be in charge of eating biscuits and drinking coffee throughout the day.