5th August
Foggy out there. Lord knows what I’ve packed. I’m on a train to a birthday party up North and it’s a miracle I’ve not thrown up. I am strong like ox. I stress this as I’ve been stuck in Euston, i.e The Gateway to Hell, for over 40 minutes.
Euston, where everyone is angry and everyone smells and there is not one train on time. It’s one big swarm of lost passengers overflowing wheelie bags feral dogs manoeuvring through more feral dogs and uncoordinated 8 year olds.
Trains go from ‘delayed’ to ‘disappeared into the ether entirely’. Ask the one guy who seems to work there due to his polyester waistcoat and position behind the INFORMATION sign, his answer is always the same: Well I don’t know, do I. This is where dreams come to die.
Finally, a mass exodus as my train goes from ‘not existing’ to LEAVING IN UNDER A MINUTE GO GO GO! In the scramble a dog shits himself across the platform and his owner drags him, and the turd, down the yellow border lines. Seriously, welcome to hell.
But I’m on the train now and ready to party…ish. Yes, the past few Nights Out will surely catch up with me, and by that I mean: I’ll convince myself I’m clinically depressed and start announcing it to friends. But why poke above the parapet to get shot in the head with that now? Let us ride this alcoholism just a bit further.
6th August
I am all aboard the slowest train home. Countless announcements inform me I could save one hour off this journey if I just get off at the next stop and go to another platform to catch faster train. That seems a lot of effort.
I suppose if one was to look at me, one would think I am trapped on this journey. Objectively, they are correct. But they don’t know I’ve made peace with the pace of this train. Why fight it? I can’t do anything (I’m willing to do) to speed it up, and besides, anything can be a heaven if you know what to do with it (except London Euston).
For me, heaven is getting around to responding to friends on WhatsApp and putting the stress of replying firmly back in their court.
I am in bliss until a Very Present Dad gets on with his two year old. The two year old yells, fine, but VPD wants to respond to every single meaningless garble with a loud rambling baby voice response about: Why the train is moving; why we have a Quiet Carriage; why that’s important; why he and mummy don’t live together; why the weekends are sacred dear lord the kid is dead-eyed licking a crisp packet and this VPD is trying to explain the concept of a work life balance. Oh, let the children work things out down the mines I say.
25th August
My plane is delayed and I just sat on a hot chair in Pret. Blurgh. A lingering temperature that only a stranger’s bum can leave. Blurgh. In Pret. Blurgh. In an airport. Blurgh!
I’m on my way to see in my 34th year with my sister and her family, they’re on holiday in France.
34. Oof what a year. Started it with a darker shade of blonde, ending it with a lighter shade of blonde. Other things have happened too of course. I think.
Plane delayed further and my fellow passengers at Gate 22 rally up against the one poor attendant to seek information! These are our demands and you must take us seriously. Attendant shrugs and let’s us use the toilet. That is about it. An old lady and I joke about wanting a bloody white wine am I right? There truly is a sense of community in coach and I lean into this small comfort to make peace with the zero power I have over Easy Jet.
26th August
What I love about my nieces, other than their kind hearts, is that they get straight to the point: Where is your baby? What’s wrong with your teeth? Why don’t you have a boyfriend? Why don’t you have a garden? Look at your big belly button.
It’s times like this I wish I could call upon VPD to educate them on the expectations put on women and that, while I do have a big belly button, it is not the rarest shape.
28th August
34 today and I wake up on a slowly deflating blow up bed next to the washing machine in my sister’s holiday flat. Objectively, things for me look… not good.
But why fight the pace of life?
Especially if, for some inexplicable reason, you’re actually rather content.
Another great read
Wonderful piece as always! 💖
I was always perplexed by the string of similar questions from my nieces and then recently I learned they pester me about when I'm getting married to their uncle because they want to be flower girls. They care not a shit about my love life and I don't know whether to be relieved or disappointed 😅