| I arrived in Manchester airport on Thursday night to a truly quintessential English welcome. I went to sit down in the railway station, when someone said I should probably move: some kids were above us, on the balcony of the large atrium, throwing stones down on the people sitting in the seats. And sure enough, every minute or so a stone was whizzing down from the first floor, followed by the sound of laughing. I looked up to see four or five scamps, probably no older than 14. The scene was completed when a bag lady who had been sheltering behind a pillar with the rest of us shuffled into the exposed centre to give the kids a piece of her mind, taking her plastic bag-laden pram with her. She made incoherent insults and remarks as the kids threw pebbles at her and laughed. Welcome to England! |
 Thankfully, I was whisked swiftly away from this strange and depressing scene and taken into the Cheshire countryside, where I have remained for the past few days. There’s something reassuring about the dull earth tones of rural Cheshire compared to glittering Greece. It’s like someone putting a roast potato in front of you after 6 months of non-stop seafood platters. And today, life is good, because I am sitting at my very own table on a fancy high speed train. I’m going up to Carlisle to pick up some windsurfing kit, which is exciting. Also I love train travel like this: the feeling of progress; the unavoidable and therefore guilt-free leisure time. Got quite a few trips planned this month so many more happy hours watching the world go by the window to come. The peace is occasionally spoiled when the train pulls up at a crowded platform, and you pray that your stuff spread all over the table and your bag on the opposite seat sends a clear enough message to the passengers who shuffle down the aisles. If not, the last resort is to start making low, throaty breathing noises like an old person eating cereal.   You might have noticed that I am still sending emails despite now being back in the UK. As you can probably tell, I quite enjoy writing these, and so it only took 2 people to encourage me to keep sending them for me to decide to keep going. But as an obliging friend who most likely signed up on a whim / when I pressured you into it, you’ve done your bit. Be free, if you so desire. If not, see you next week. Love, James |
A Quintessential English Welcome
