Travelling first class today, cheap ticketsRed and grey brick work
Industrial and worn out
Heaps of rubbish amongst the greenIndustrial and worn out
A cloudy, possibly clearing sky
The comfort of first class seats
Neglected old engine houses
Grey boxes of consumerism
The horizon comforting me with the reminder that the sea is not far away
A playing field of mud and swings
A bird’s eye view of busy moving traffic
My stomach reminding me I haven’t had breakfast
The brief darkness of a short tunnel
Concern and trepidation of the tasks we are going to be set today
A colourful shirt of an orange and brown geometric pattern
Her glasses balanced on the tip of her nose as she reads a book
A brief look at the doom and gloom of a newspaper
Again the thought of breakfast and a warm cup of tea
Herds of school children, oblivious and intent
A landscape of concrete framed in green
A bright red handbag
Muddy tracks through a long grassed field
The brown carpet of trees seen from above
Conversations about the weather
The silvery flow of a river
The splash of orange and brown leaves
The lines of hedging
The twisting branches of naked trees
Three orange cows
The green and yellow of gorse
A line of pylons standing tall and silent
A woodland, dark and secretive
A bright blue top and dangly earrings
The white spots of distant sheep
A view right into someone’s garden
Some distant manmade hills
An old abandoned horse box
The stripes of a ploughed field
The whoosh of a passing train
Eight concrete chimneys, ominous and tall
Green plastic fencing
Ivy covered derelict buildings in the dip of a valley
The smooth smell of coffee
A sky getting greyer, the light getting duller
A platform full of cold looking travellers
A lonely purple flower
Other peoples conversations
The landscape filling with the beauty of trees
An expanse of green lawn for golfers
At last, a cup of tea and some breakfast
A grand house surrounded by grand gardens
A wise old oak tree
The pleasure of peanut butter on cold toast and ginger biscuits dunked in my tea
The upright line of trees
An inviting path alongside a winding river
An old beautiful steam train
Pathetic flowerbeds
Trunks of ivy
A carpet of fallen autumnal leaves
The overwhelming need to be out in what I see
The orderly lines created within a manmade woodland
Racing the traffic on a parallel road
Tracks through a wet field
The rolling hills of a valley
A jolly ticket master, makes a change
A concrete space covered in parked cars
A satisfied stomach
Laughter and friendly conversation
A manmade hill scattered with saplings
Fields of rippling plastic
A field of quirky looking lamas
A rain cloud dark in the distance
A road cutting through the landscape
Blocks of houses standing guard on a hillside
A pond full of fallen leaves
Green metal railings, KEEP OUT
Another platform full of serious looking travellers
A way out
Is the sky actually brightening?
A little lady in bright red trousers
Talk of strikes and pensions
A footbridge to the ‘other side’
Butterflies in my stomach
Bright orange overalls grubby and ripped
Hard helmets and scaffolding
A high bridge with a fantastic view
A field of cows all lying down, does that mean it’s going to rain?
A flock of seagulls stomping their feet
Sheep, heads down and chewing
A line of trees blocking my view
The spire of a church pointing to the heavens
Talk of shopping and shops, what is good and what is bad
The standing stones of a grave yard
The uncharacteristic dread of aging
Bridges over wider rivers
A longer tunnel, my ears blocking and unblocking
Leaves flying past my window, free
The joy of seeing some blue sky
Bobbing moored boats
An expanse of water and the industry of the city
The continuous rippling movement of the water
The crossing from one world to another
Built up and boxed in
A late train, packed, suffocating and smelly
A strange young lady who wouldn’t let anyone sit in the seat next to her
The warm beautiful glow of the sun getting lower in the sky
People reading, away in another world
An inner fight with a strong urge to escape
Washing hanging on lines
Earphones and snoring
A text from Libby, she’s safe and sound
A glance at someone’s newspaper
Feeling stuffed from eating lunch, the flapjack was just too much
Back over the bridge
A low tide and the smoothness of exposed mud
The usual slight sadness at the sight of my reflection
A craving for the fresh air off the sea
Brown corduroy trouser and hush puppy shoes
Phones, glasses, drinks, pencil cases, laptops
Grey hair, brown hair, blond hair, longhair, short hair, no hair
At last the welcoming sight of green
The smell of perfume and stale cigarettes
Curly hair, straight hair, flicked hair
The graceful, flowing curves of the hills
My mind full of what has happened today and what there is still to do
The hope that I can read my writing when I come back to rewrite
The smoke from a bonfire, in my mind I can smell it
A toilet engaged, coach D, seat 39
The rustle and shuffle of newspapers, bags and bodies
The distant chitter chatter of young ladies
Someone talking too loudly on their phone, we really don’t want to know
Fresh coffee in a brown paper bag
The landscape turning orange as the haze of dusk creeps in
An announcement for the next stop, the movement of anticipation
My body tired and relaxed yet deeply uncomfortable
The fluorescent lights white, bright and intrusive
An elderly couple struggle with their suitcase, we all just sit and stare
Flashbacks of the dreams I had last night
Pull handle in an emergency
The joy of planning what to do at the weekend, where to explore this time
A forest of autumnal colours, my favourite part of the journey
The jingling of money being retrieved from a pocket
Resisting the strong urge to close my eyes to travel elsewhere
A skinny man in a green checked shirt and cap, looking a little confused
A fat man dressed in black
An area of trees lying down dead
The rustle and squeak of a packet of crisps being opened, the crunch of them being eaten
Yellow leaves hanging like golden coins, a tree of treasure
The welcoming feel of cool air brought on with new passengers
The sloppy noise of a young couple kissing, oh young love!
The reflections becoming more dominant as the sun makes its exit
A young man absorbed and intense with his writing
Cream coloured socks, diamond rings, a white plastic watch
A lady just starting to read chapter 36 of her paperback book
A field of plastic that looks like snow
Again the overwhelming urge to run and escape, I try not to scream
A reservation ticket discarded on the floor
The smooth lumps and bumps of a golf course
Arms full of shopping bags bulging with delights, it’s that time of year again
The deep inhaling and exhaling of the lady next door
She shifts, scratches her head, rearranges the position of her bottom
A long line of metal railings
Boarded up windows and doors
The bright red glow of school jumpers
Dreadlocks and a top hat
Coughing and spluttering, please keep it to yourself
I yawn and stretch doing my best to contain the impatience
An arm covered in wrinkly old skin
The same jolly ticket master I saw this morning
Advertisements of Christmas pleasures
The hint of dread and panic that comes with the word Christmas
Fields lined with soldiers of solar panels
Another lined with fallen soldiers of dying maize
A brown leather jacket with a big fluffy collar
The lady is now on chapter 38, she has dirty finger nails
Some nice suede shoes with a big floppy bow
A bright orange field criss-crossed with tractor tracks
Black and grey stripy socks with smart pointy, brown shoes
A mental note, the washing needs doing and I need a new axe
Again the pleasant wash of realisation that it is the weekend tomorrow
A tiny silent film on a tiny screen held up close
Cathedral spires warm, reflecting the pink of the sky
Herds of children take over any spare seat, the noise level doubles
Talk of football and TV
A call about my log delivery , stocking up for the winter
Youthful chatter, energy, spots and bravado
Regret of missed out youth
Bright red trousers and bleached hair
An IPhone, cheese and onion crisps
A beer can rolling with the gentle rock of the train
The intolerance of age with youth
The flicking of hair and attention to makeup
The charmer of the group, the swooning of girls
Darkness descends, the street lights start to glow
A string of traffic, fairy lights from above
The solid silhouettes of rocks on the hill
The smell of wet dog
Black shoes with holes in the soles
No more view out of the window
The giggling and shrieking of girls
The floor covered in the remnants of the food ingested along the way
The announcement I have eagerly been awaiting
A rummage around in my bag for the car keys
Standing at the door, fresh cold air rushing in making me feel human again
The carriage is slowing, it’s time to put my pen away
 |
| Mapping the Journey There |
No comments:
Post a Comment