I'm on the long train to London, the one that stops everywhere, even stations that seem to have been abandoned since the last war. Frant… who lives in Frant… it's just a patch of broken concrete by the side of the track, I imagine old people with terminal illnesses get off here and wander into the fields to die, bleached bones in the sun that are never found.
As I'm on the train I bought a newspaper - the Guardian was both dull and dreary - Maxine Peake was on the cover of the guide, she always is - every time I buy the Guardian - she's in there, somewhere - looking more and more important as time goes by. There was a pretty good article by Tanya Gold about social division - but as I'd already read it online at about 6am - it was quite dull. It's Saturday so they have the magazine, the interiors article had a house that looked frankly ordinary - it's probably the same house they always use, but with different things on the shelves.
I'm busy all weekend - so I'm probably not going to post again until after the bank holiday - when I'm back at work. I find that I have rather more work on than I anticipated - in fact, I'm a bit snowed under - and a bit tired - my head seems to be totally fried, could hardly make anything work on Friday - probably best that I give it a miss for a couple of days.
Last night it rained, a lot - an it seemed to get dark a full hour early. I left a big galvanised container on the patio and it was totally filled with water ( partly from the roof ). At least I won't have to worry about the garden needing watering. I didn't bring a coat today and got wet on the way to the station - I smell like a wet dog. Nobody wants to sit next to me.
There is a woman with 2 small children sitting a few seats away - she's the type who thinks that parenting means your child must always be able to hear the sound of your voice, all the time - she can't seems to stop talking at them. The train is filling up and shortly someone will be forced to slap her.
I found out yesterday that a new neighbour regularly commutes to London by car - this is VERY interesting and useful - she bought the house where chickens used to live - I shall have to 'make friends'.
I have a friend who started a course of intensive trauma therapy last week - I'm not telling you why they needed it - but she did. I'm looking forward to hearing about it - sounds fascinating, her case is apparently 'very serious - but not without hope' - if you ask me - the 'hope' bit comes up as 'hope it does not happen again'.
I had an epiphany yesterday - I'd been trying to put something together in my head for years - partly a proposal for a PHD and partly something academic related to design education - I'd been mulling it on various bike rides, and suddenly it all came together with staggering clarity - so I'm either going to start talking to a publisher and planning the next 12 months - or start talking to a psychiatrist about the voices in my head ( only joking… honest!) - that's a good point, at what point does internal dialogue tip over into clinical schizophrenia? - Obviously, there is a lot of distance between 'must buy more milk' and 'must cut off Prime Ministers head and wear it as a hat' - but there must be a grey area in between.
Just passed an exclusive looking golf course, the rain is so heavy it's almost solid - but people are still playing golf.
There is a trolley service on this train - the bloke pulling the trolley has those giant ear extending discs in either ear - the size of teacups - and a bar through his nose - but he's polite, friendly and clean shaven ( which I'm not) and has ironed his shirt - something I've not done in a decade. There are several of what I assume to be 'weekend dads' with offspring - you can always spot them - they are massively over compensating.
Sevenoakes.
the bloke opposite is filling in his passport application, he has brought all his personal papers with him in a House of Fraser carrier bag - and spread them all over the table, If I were so inclined, I could harvest enough information to steal his identity.
This jumper has dried out now - and shrunk to the point of strangulation.
The bloke filling in the passport application has spelled his wife's name wrong twice, and has had to get her passport out of the bag to check it - he does't look like a people trafficker…. but you never know.
The bloke with the child has struck up a conversation with an old woman - she thought the kids name was 'Thomas' because that's what he kept screaming - but apparently it's the name of his tank engine, dad want's to take him to the Science Museum - the child just screamed MACDONALDS, the old woman is trying really hard to get the child to talk to her - but has confused him with one about 2 years older "what's your favourite Dinosaur" - "MACDONALDS"
The man filling out the passport application just called his ban - and went through security in detail - I know know enough to empty his account.
The man filling out the passport application just called his ban - and went through security in detail - I know know enough to empty his account.
Hither Green - technically London… and some sunshine.
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