The Most Amazing Journey.

3 Sep

After yesterday’s mildly successful SSS Blog, I’m taking inspiration from my dear, dear friend Natalie, who, unsurprisingly, you can find on Twitter HERE.

Her suggestion was “the most amazing journey”.

Obviously, there are a couple of ways I could interpret it – emotionally, mentally, physically, or literally.

Maybe later in the month I’ll explore the other three ways, but for now, I’m going to talk about a literal journey, that was amazing and ridiculous.

Cast your minds back to August of 2010. I would have been about 18 and was sat on a train, waiting to go to Edinburgh for the first time.

It wasn’t a simple journey by any means – I had to change at Bristol, with an eight hour wait at Birmingham for my final connection.

I was already panicky and nervous as it was, but when it became apparent that we were running late for our connection, I was almost inconsolable. As soon as the train doors opened at Bristol Station, I bolted down the platform, following a load of other passengers who were also getting the train to Birmingham. We got there in time to see our train pulling away. Bearing in mind it was about 11pm, and I was on my own, I started to cry.

Thankfully, a lovely man from Network Rail ushered me into the communications office, and sat me down with three strangers. He asked me where I was headed, I said Birmingham. He nodded and made a phone call.

Turned out what he was doing was phoning for a taxi for the four of us, from Bristol to Birmingham. I dread to think how much that taxi cost, but it’s not worth thinking about as thankfully, I didn’t have to pay for it.

After about two hours squashed into the taxi, which an oppressive and heavy silence, we got to Birmingham New Street Station, where I made my way to the waiting area.

Considering it was almost 2am, and my connection wasn’t until 6:30am, I thought it best to try and get a little bit of shut eye. The seats were metallic, cold and uncomfortable, so I decided to have a nap on the floor, with my head resting on my suitcase.

All was well for about half an hour, until I was woken to feel something knocking on the back of my head. I ignored it first, thinking that it was just a headache, manifested from the stress, tiredness and excitement, but it just wouldn’t go away.

So I sat up, narrowly avoiding getting a boot to the face. A man had decided to fall asleep on the chair behind me, and had been kicking me gently in the back of the head. RUDE.

I didn’t think it worth confronting him, so I just moved away and probably checked Twitter.

Thankfully, 6:30am soon came, and I was speeding on a train to Scotland for my very first visit to the Edinburgh Fringe (and luckily, not my last).

Hope that was interesting.

A bit.

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