I make no apologies for the ramble that is about to head in your direction. If you feel brave enough by all means continue you will see where the inspiration comes from, if not then come back later but please do come back.
So here I am on the second leg of my 5-hour journey to Cardiff and the second train of the day. It seems that these days I spend so much time on trains or behind the wheel of a car zipping back and to through Wales. Why is it, then, that I have only just realised that I can take that time to relax and chill out? Today I have organised myself and packed enough entertainment to keep me occupied for my journey. Normally I spend my time on the train writing reports, answering emails, reading papers on this and memos on that making notes to discuss in my meeting about things that (if the truth be known) are really not that interesting, neigh important. Tonight I am going to treat my journey like a little holiday in itself. Take a look at what I have packed. Add to this a DVD (I might review that on here later) for watching at the hotel, my journal, my Sony Ericson phone, my glitter gel, I love my glitter gel pens and a good old book
Seven hours at my desk, a quick splash in and out of the shower, a seven-mile dash to the station and running onto the platform I make it just in time to see the train pulling in. Clambering aboard I sit in my usual place. I have recently noticed that I am just a little obsessed about where I sit. This came to my attention when I last travelled to Cardiff and somebody had the audacity to sit in my seat before I could get there. I was rather put out and stood in the aisle wondering what I was going to do if I couldn’t hide away in my little corner by the bag rack. Did this mean that I would have to sit at a table seat and speak to people? I wonder do other people have these little habits or am I alone in my seat obsession? Anyway I digress, back to tonight’s journey. Imagine my horror when a group of about 20 students boarded behind me. All just a little worse for wear. I manage to get my usual seat and to make sure that I am not disturbed I pile my bags on the seat next to me.
Not to worry, I come prepared with the headphones for my little sony ericson phone, ok so I cant afford an iphone but this was the first mobile phone I bought for myself, indeed the first gadget that I treated myself to after my divorce and I am kind of attached to it. Several cans of strongbow and several choruses of Jerusalem later (not me I hasten to add) and I breathe a sigh of relief as the rowdy lot disembark and I am left with the carriage to myself. Simon Mayo’s drive time is about to be lost to the hills of the Elan Valley as my signal crackles and dies. Michael Buble sings softly in my ears and the rocking of the train is so soothing I almost fall asleep, so, what next I ask myself? Hmm, a little bit of surfing on my newly acquired Internet access on the phone. This was an aha moment for me on my last journey when, after several weeks of internet less ness (thanks Jenni for that wonderful word) a colleague casually asked why I didn’t just check my phone. What I say, this little thing. And behold I have access. So I fiddle and I faff, I wait for the signal and at last my emails open. 20 emails and they are nearly all junk mail, I must take the time to unsubscribe from some of this stuff. Suddenly, there nestled at the bottom of the list is a little ray of sunshine. My friend in Mexico has emailed me twice no less. How lovely it is to have friends around the world but even more lovely is to have a friend that takes the time to email and to lift my spirits. He tells me that he likes to read my mail and that I am clear and eloquent. What a wonderful thing to say and how that gives me a boost and the encouragement to write again. Time has been passing and I have found it more and more difficult to come back to my little blog and unable to express myself. So thank you (yes you know who you are my little ray of sunshine) for encouraging me to write again. .
So, here I am on the second leg of my 5 hour-long journey to Cardiff. No longer alone the carriage is filled with businessmen, holiday makers, students. Mum’s with prams, a homeless person with a dog and the obligatory old lady who wants to tell the whole carriage her life story. This carriage is its own little microcosm. Fascinating people, but cold. The carriage rocking and swaying as it builds up speed and hurtles along the tracks attempting to catch up the delay to ensure that it deposits its passengers safely and on time along the way. The darkness outside envelops the countryside; there is nothing to see now. Michael has finished his crooning and the radio signal has long resigned itself to the ether. Here I am tapping on the keys at a speed almost akin to the train itself. Thank you Mr H for the inspiration to just write.