Homeward bound

Imaginary music fills my head. “Homeward bound, I wish I was.” In fact I am indeed homeward bound, on the slightly delayed 10.13 out of Manchester Piccadilly heading for Cleethorpes via Sheffield. To fall asleep and discover I was in Cleethorpes would be a mistake and an unlikely event. I change trains at Sheffield.

For some reason I like changing trains at Sheffield. Dunno why. Makes no sense whatsoever. It would be much better if this train did not have Cleethorpes as its final destination but was heading straight to Lincoln.

This morning I made several observations. A lorry turned up at the building site opposite with a load of gravel. The driver climbed down from his cab and opened the white metal gates inward, then returned to the truck to reverse in. Then he realised that one of the gates needed to be opened in the other direction, ie outwards. Down he got again, sorted it out and then reversed in. He had to wait for one of the builders to rock up before tipping his load.

Down at breakfast I passed a large man tucking in to a full English. Looking up he smiled happily whereupon I noticed he had some of his fried egg stuck to his face. I chuckled to myself, said nothing and proceeded to fetch my OJ.

Bloke in the lift’s shoelaces were too long and were trailing on the floor. I noticed later that he had a broad brummy accent.

Later the holding area for platform thirteen at Manchester Piccadilly was a tableau of people waiting for their train to be announced and others moving past them.

The Uber driver’s name was Amanuel. He worked in a bank Monday to Thursday and drove an Uber on Fridays. Possible also at the weekend. Amanuel is an Arsenal fan and had Talk Sport on his car wireless set.

These are things I noticed this morning. There are many other observations I could make but it’s a question of how much time do I want to invest in the activity.

Looking out of the train windows I see dry stone wall patterned scenic hills on one side and rows of stone cottages lining the main road on the other. Some of these valleys were trashed during the industrial revolution. Dark satanic mills.

This land has no mobile connectivity. It was ever thus, since time began. Sheep have no need of mobile phones. All they need is grass, and mint sauce.

Bloke opposite has cheap earphones. I can hear the tv programme he is watching on his phone. Marseterchef.

By Trefor Davies

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