Another Train

The green army. That’s what was going on. Plyouth Argyle football club were playing at home. Young people from all over the south west were travelling to Plymouth by any means possible to support “their team”.

The coach and connecting trains ever since have been mercifully quiet. During the spring or summer this journey is very, very different. You get on the train near London, and it swoops along the coast towards the south west – crossing famous viaducts along the way that have been made famous in countless movies. During this winter they have been moving sections of the line away from the ocean – away from crashing waves that have caused damage for many years.

In half an hour I will arrive at Reading, and change trains once again. An hour after that I will be walking home from our local railway station – dragging the bag behind me that has seen a remarkable amount of the world. It’s been to the USA, to Germany (many times), to Turkey, Spain, France (again, many times), Ireland, Egypt, Scotland, Wales… the list goes on.

I’m looking forward to seeing my family now. I’m a little apprehensive of the mountain of chores I’ll walk into, but they aren’t really important – they’ll get done soon or later. I’m also looking forward to my own bed, my own computer, my own coffee, and a hundred other things. Even though I’m pretty much self sufficient, it’s surpring how many things you start to miss when removed from your normal routine – especially after the past few years where you haven’t set foot outside the house for weeks at a time.

One thing is certain. Tomorrow morning I’m pulling my running shoes back on. It’s been far too long – particularly after witnessing the situation my Dad now finds himself in. No excuses. I’ve done it before, and I can do it again.