Diary Entry Twenty-Three: Train Journeys

Being a terrible poster; I often lose concentration when I'm writing. This is true of two train journeys I recently took. I have also been learning morse code which is why there is a section at the bottom of this blog which consists of dots and dashes. It's only the following paragraph so if you don't understand it don't worry.

Cheers,

Alex

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April 11th 2010

Trains, Trains Go Away

Perhaps it's the rush back to work after the Easter break, or maybe it's the weather. Either way it doesn't make sense that a nine-carriage Virgin Pendolino train be completely full on a Sunday afternoon. Maybe it's the Glaswegian water that's attracted everybody travelling through London to board this train, whatever 'it' is, it's amiss.

The en-mass migration to Scotland certainly explains why the ticket issuer was unable to book me a seat on this train. It's not all bad I suppose, it's only five hours of my life and I am looking forward to seeing my father; even if that sucks I do have a table-window seat booked for my return.

The first leg of my journey was a bitch too; a train full of already tipsy football fans heading to Wembly Stadium, throwing around a team coloured balloon and yelling political slogans. When I was walking to the train at the beginning of the day the massive crowd; standing on the platform, yelled at the same time, this benefits-stealing choir  actually made a wonderfully tuneful wall of sound that was so testosterone filled I could sense a dog's testicles growing across the river and I'm fairly certain several foetuses actually changed sex.

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April 18th 2010

Another Train Journey

So, a week after I wrote the last blog I'm writing this. I promised a friend I'd upload it translated into Morse Code but it becomes tiring after the first fifty words and I sadly failed to complete my task. None-the-less I am here, bravely attempting the wholly-possible once again. No half measures, no minced words, just lovely dots and dashes representing our language.

A week in Glasgow, a week with my father. It was actually the most time I've spent with him since he moved there. Before this trip it was September, three days which became six when I caught swine flu; prefacing that was January '09 at my grandparents' 50th wedding anniversary, for which I got a beautiful, new suit. Before that I hadn't seen him since July 2006, shocking I know!

*****

As I said before, I fail at writing. I got distracted both times and when that happens I find it very hard to get back into the flow. Anyway, here's the morse I mentioned.

.-  -..-  .-.  ..  .-..     .----  .----  -  ....     ..---  -----  .----  -----

-  .-.  .-  ..  -.  ...  --..--     -  .-.  .-  -.  ...     --.  ---     .-  .--  .-  -.--

.--.  .  .-.  ....  .-  .--.  ...    ..  -  .---.  ...     -  ....  .     .-.  ..-  ...  ....     -...  .-  -.-.  -.-     -  ---     .--  ---  .-.  -.-     .-  ..-.  -  .  .-.     -  ....  .     .  .-  ...   -   .   .-.     -...  .-.  .  .-  -.-  --..--     ---  .-.     ---  .-  -.--  -...  .     ..  -  .----.  ...     -  ....  .     .--  .  .-  -  ....  .  .-.  .-.-.-     .  ..  -  ....  .  .-.     .--  .-  -.--     ..  -     -..  ---  .  ...  -.  .----.  -     --  .-  -.-  .     ...  .  -.  ...  .     -  ....  .-  -     .-     ----.     -.-.  .-  .-.  .-.  ..  .-  --.  .     ...-  ..  .-.  --.  ..  -.     .--.  .  -.  -..  ---   .-..  ..  -.  ---     -  .-.  .-  ..  -.     -...  .     -.-.  ---   --  .--.   .-..  .  -  .  .-..  -.--     ..-.  ..-  .-..  .-..   ---  -.     .     ...  ..-  -.  -..  .-  -.--     .-  ..-.  -  .  .-.  -.  ---  ---  -.  .-.-.-     --  .-  -.--  -...  .     ..  -  .----.  ...     -  ....  .     --.  .-..  .-  ...  .--  .  --.  ..  .-  -.     .--  .-  -  .  .-.     -  ....  .-  -  .----.  ...     .-  -  -  .-.  .-  -.-.  -  .  -..     .  ...-  .  .-.  -.--  -...  ---  -..  -.--     -  .-.  .-  ...-  .  .-..  .-..  ..  -.  --.     -  .-.  ---  ..-  --.  ....     .-..  ---  -.  -..  ---  -.     -  ---     -...  ---  .-  .-.  -..     -  ....  ..  ...     -  .-.  .-  -.  --..--     .--  ....  .-  -  .  ...-  .  .-.     .-..-.  ..  -  .-..-.     ..  ...  --..--     ..  -  .----.  ...     .-  --  ..  ...  .-.-.-

Diary Entry Twenty-Two: Sea, My surf and I.

Ten ships float gently alongside the island as the tide calmly leaves the shore; some are passing us by, destined for far-off ports; some are here to rest but most are waiting for work with their crews bored and their cargo decks serving only as vast empty spaces used for dark, dank, make-shift running tracks and football pitches until the next order comes. Dwarfed alongside them sit yachts, bobbing up and down with the flow of the ocean as it laps at their sides.

Those ten ships become nine as the tenth disappears behind the mammoth cliff which dominates the skyline a click to my north-east. Towering above the ocean, for me, it represents the edge of my blinkered view, reminding me of my own limits. One cannot see what is hidden from one's eyes, adventure waits beyond the horizon.

The ships become ten once more as another emerges from the horizontal haze which marks the edge of my known space, a car ferry by the looks of its shape and bright-white colouring.

My destiny; like the tide's, lays far beyond what I can see. A vast and endless current of oceans command not only the entire world but my life especially. As I look towards what I cannot see I get a feeling of isolation, but also (and more importantly) hope and how my own minute existence may one day change what people see from this very spot.

The beach is empty now, the sun has taken shelter behind the massive cliffs above me and the heat left imprisoned in the sand isn't enough to keep the tourists here. I will mount my bicycle now and ride home with a thought on my mind:

If people leave when the sun goes down how will anyone appreciate the eerie silence of the ocean? If my own sunshine fails to glow will people forget about the beauty of my simplicity, too?

The simple things are what make us feel alive, without them we have no hope of surviving in true happiness.

Diary Entry Twenty-One: My Town

I wish I could see the sunset from my home.

"Today is the first day of summer, not scientifically but the sun was shining and the tourists are here. Furthermore; the tourists are in my town, which means they're bored.

Or lost."

That isn't to say my town isn't lovely, my little spot on the island is among the most beautiful if you know where to look. Sadly my dinky town; with its centuries of history and its spirited people, is in crisis: large planned development and the loss of one of our main tourist attractions has rendered us helpless. A recent Town Council meeting apparently shed no new light on what is to happen to the grade II listed building which housed the aforementioned failed business.

Four pubs; a statue of a bull; two bus stops; two national heritage sites; a church and a chappel; a Post Office; a general shop; an electronic goods store; a train station; a doctor's surgery; three post boxes, football and cricket clubs; tea rooms; a model train shop; a hair salon; reading rooms; our own day, and some of the most darling houses you will ever see make up this town which is 13 times less dense than New York and is too often mistaken for a village.

The worst opinion of this town I've ever heard to date is the description that it is little more than a place you pass through to get to one of the surrounding, larger towns.
This view not only ignores our very existance but also belittles us and forgets our wonderful home. I've not had the pleasure of meeting most of our residents but from what I have experienced I know we are a hardy group who all love our little corner of heaven very much and many, it seems, would fight for its survival.

To counter the statement at the beginning of this well-meaning ramble: this town is stuffed full of wonderful people, places, activities, sights and history. Any person will find a million things to love about this place; tourist or resident alike, and those not visiting are the ones who are truly lost.

As I approach the two year anniversary of my living here I must say I have never felt so at home in any of my numerous former residencies. There's something about this place that makes me never want to leave. Thankyou, Brading, for being so perfect.

Oh and I may not see the sunset from my home but I can show you a dozen places where it can be seen at its most beautiful, all in my little town.