Train Travel

A while ago I typed up some writing I did when I was on a camping holiday in Wales. This is the last of them.

Train journeys are, in my opinion, severely underrated. You get the whole spectrum of human existence from just looking out of the window. Betws-Y-Coed to Llandudno. Llandudno to Manchester. Trees and mountains and lakes and birds I saw a heron between Betws and the next station and council estates and tourists and




the sea.

The endless expanse of ocean backed by clouds on the horizon, clouds that could be mountains, that could be a tidal wave. The sea is out and the beach is a slick mirror marked by the dances of gulls and the remnants of holiday makers. And somehow I can look at the sea and it fills me with ocean calm and riptide happiness and a sense of adventure. It makes me say “I will” rather than “I’ll try”. Like, I will get fitter and I will write more and I will I will I will get back to the sea again, I will sail again because as much as I say I want to work in the arts all I really want is to go to sea and work on a ship feel the pitch and turn of each wave, let the salt sting my face because I was raised on tales of pirates, of romance and adventure and a world undiscovered, of boundless horizons and a place where people were judged on what they could do, not what they could not do.

And as much as I say I want a job in the arts, a steady job would mean a semi-permanent location and that is not what I want. I have a traveller’s heart. My blood wants to move. My soul is a wanderer. I am not destined to stay in Manchester, not for much longer. I can feel it as I write these words. I will hollow out my bones and fly like Icarus, and when I fall (and fall I will) it will be a landing on my feet in an undiscovered land, and I will stay until my bones grow heavy again.

I thought this train journey would make me sad, make me heavy again. But no. I look forward to my home. I look forward to my friends. I look forward, to my next adventure, because there is so much to look forward to, so much to be thankful for, so many books to read and stories to write and sunsets to see and adventures to be had.

My soul is afire with a smile and a song.

My bones are light.

My lungs are clear.

Fucking hell.

I can do this.


One thought on “Train Travel

  1. I really liked reading this…………until………….Fucking hell…………..
    Those two little words burst the amazing bubble I found myself in as a result of reading this piece. What an anticlimax!!

    Your writing is GOOD.


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