Scotland offered a life I could live, but my coat isn’t warm enough and job in London so couldn’t stay forever.
One thing I loved about Spain is no one knew if you could speak Spanish so they never tried. I enjoyed that. I’ve learnt some Spanish from T#### and M#######, and a bit of Estonian from H#### – less “where can I find a taxi” and more “you’re my favourite flavour”. Estonian girls are the closest we have to mythical creatures. I love the whole London late nights, cheap wine and cuddles on the tube.
Brother and I are writing a lot more. Problem I have is Matthew isn’t the kind of name that screams creativity but my middle name is. So we’re swapping, we’re both going to start introducing ourselves by our middle names.
I’ve played with this idea before, Matthew is the kind of man to take out a mortgage and compliment your mother on her flower arrangements. Raphael writes short stories on the train about the love life of train conductors and their hopes and dreams.
Because it surely can’t be this, the personification of a ticket machine. Equip with the same bugs, errors and dimensions as their metallic, emotionless counterpart.
Do you want to see my railcard?
It’s alright.
No, I insist.
Really it’s fine.
Look at my railcard for the love of god, i’m sorry I broke script but it’s in both our best interests that I prove to you I do in fact qualify for the discounted rate I paid.
Shit see, I just fall into it. Something fascinates me about mundane jobs. A few days ago I jumped off the tube, thousands of people hanging about waiting to get on, so I shout STEP ASIDE, RATS and they shift, almost as though they know exactly what they are and are happy to comply with basic stimuli like loud noises. I respect humans, I am one myself.
Anyway back to the names. I explained this two names idea to a friend and she jumped straight to Bipolar, which is understandable but I really don’t think it’s that kind of thing. Just living my best life, you know?
Drove back from Scotland, was going to fly but after reading about all those celebs being screwed for flying less than an hour I figured Glasgow to London was a bad look. Stopped in Ashbourne for the night, smoked a joint and went for a late evening walk. Dawned on me that a lot of my key memories, fond or not, revolve around benches. First kiss, first breakup, most breakups tbh, good news, bad news, girls who wanna love you, girls who wanna hate you, sometimes both – the lot.
St Pancras have these cheeky metallic walls which scan the contents of your bags and pockets. They look like this
|_____||_____|
I hate the things so after a quick google and download of their installation instructions I learnt they don’t pick up anything above 2 metres, so I lift my bag to the ceiling and walk through, looks a little silly but worth it to bamboozle the cops. Today was the first and likely not the last time I got called up on it by two very well-groomed officers. After some back and forth of me trying to figure out if they knew about the scanners I explained I didn’t want their silly unethical magnets scrambling my pc and some met officer redeeming my boots points.
Toying with the idea of moving away from the UK, somewhere warm. Don’t feel there’s much left here for me. I need closure from one smallish thing then I’m off. Can’t figure out how I’ll go about it or even if I need to but I’ve been thinking about it daily for close to a year and let’s be honest, I gotta close the door on this. Complicated stuff but I’ll leave Matthew to iron out the details.
Email sign-up is kinda a sweet-sour thing. Great to see people enjoy the reads, strange to see people signing up whose IPs are supposed to be blocked. It’s not that I don’t want them reading, just hurts to know they are. I’ve put emails on hold until I figure out what’s up with the code.
Song of the week babyyyyyy
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