Train travel is not what it was. I swear trains have got smaller. This one was rammed, I only just got a seat, but I felt squashed and surrounded, and compelled to listen to the young Asian guy next to me on the phone to his mate, with phrases like, 'You understand man?, Know what I mean, innit?' I had to look to make sure I wasn't seated next to Sacha Cohen...
I couldn't read, but put on my headphones and listened to music and tried to sleep. I caused the guy opposite to laugh outloud when I sneezed and my headphones flew out of my ears....
Much texting with Martin F who was on a parallel train heading north, and the plan was to co-incide at Stockport, and take the local train to Heaton, and there be met by the lvoely Stuart. However, Stuart arrived at Stockport as I was waiting on the platform, so I texted Martin I had a better offer, I was collected by Stuart, and we drove to Heaton in time to pick up Martin.
As I walked up the slope at the back of Stockport station, I came up to the main road and took this picture of the first thing I saw:
The boarded up Bluebell hotel...a wonderful, classic building which was once glorious I suspect...kind of took me back immediately to arriving in Stockport as a fresh faced drama student, to find my digs in Tiviot house, a similar imposing Victorian house, home to 14 girls from the Poly, the most dirty flea infested lodgings you could hope to live in. My dad dropped me off, my mum I suspect was too upset at my leaving to come with us...my dad's parting remark was, 'It's a good job your mum can't see where I am leaving you....'
This time, Martin and I were driven to S and K's house, their new home, and I was quickly given the guided tour by K: what a lvoely, lvoely house, which is truly a home...the kettle was on and there was time for a cup of tea before getting ready for the party...I was with friends, and it was lvoely.....
No comments:
Post a Comment