Escaping in plain sight
When I started out on this journey, I wrote things like “first day done”, “second day done”, and so on. I'm just trying to figure out which day this is – eight, perhaps? Even though the days have been spread over several weeks, with journeys the length of the country dispersing them, It's all becoming far too routine.
I generally wake at seven in the morning, daydream for an hour, fall out of bed, shower, shave, get dressed, read the news on the computer, then pack my bag and wander to the office – arriving a few minutes before 9. I haven't bothered with breakfast in the hotel at all so far – I rarely eat breakfast at home, so can see no point in doing so while away either.
At luchtime I walk to the supermarket on the far side of a humungous road junction, entailing four or five sets of crossing lights (which can be short-cutted once you figure out the pattern of reds). The supermarket is a typical out-of-town superstore, selling everything from clothes, to televisions, plates, cookware, and of course food. Vast aisles full of food. The chocolate aisle made me laugh last night – there were two massive women complaining that the price of the biggest chocolate bars had gone up.
You're probably not wondering what I was doing in the supermarket in the evening, but I'll tell you anyway – I was buying dinner to take back to my hotel room. I hate sitting alone in pubs or restaurants while away with work, so will often buy salads and snacks from nearby grocery stores to take back to my hotel room. Once setup (as I am now) with a desk, an internet connection, and a laptop, I can jump down the rabbit hole and escape in plain sight.
This evening I figured – given the atrocious weather – that a hot meal would do me some good, so faced my demons and wandered to the pub next door to the hotel. I've learned now that the fastest way to get through dinner is to order at the bar, and sit in the bar – then you pay up front and can just walk when you've finished rather than wait around. I've mentioned this before – being on your own to eat is a double edged sword. You can arrive, order, eat, and get out of dodge quickly, but then while sitting there you start to take notice of all the people meeting friends, and a huge wave of loneliness can creep up on you. Maybe it's just me. I do live in a house with four women remember – I'm used to mayhem, chores, arguments, laughter, and idiocy surrounding me all the time.
While drinking the leftovers of my drink this evening a group of old people wandered past, and the little old man bringing up the rear caught my attention. I'm not sure what it was about him – the way he was dressed, or the way he walked – but I started wondering about the life he had lead – about what he might have been like as a younger man. Everything about him said he would have been well known, and well liked. I'm not sure why. He probably had a manual job – he had strong hands. He dressed very smartly, and was immaculately turned out – which very probably meant he did national service in the army, and that influenced the rest of his life. You can tell ex servicemen and policemen from a mile away – they are more orderely; more neat and tidy than most.
A blonde girl served me at the bar. I think I saw her the first time I sat in the restaurant part of the pub – running back and forth delivering drinks and food to tables. She looked tired. I couldn't help thinking about the movie I watched last night, “About Time”, and it's advice about making eye contact when speaking to strangers. I wondered why she was so down – what her story was. Of course a guy on his own in a bar can never talk to a girl working there without it looking like a pass, so I sat in silence and wondered.
I mentioned “About Time” on Tumblr last night. I don't think I can watch it again. It's a wonderful movie, but it systematically ripped me to pieces. It didn't so much push my buttons, as rip them out and stamp on them repeatedly.
So. The night is young. Time to launch myself across the interwebs like some kind of particularly forgettable stage diver. I'll be the guy that slips through a gap in the crowd with his arms out-spread, and lands with a thud on the floor while everybody continues their conversations around me without noticing. Then I'll stand up and pretend I'm fine, before looking around to check that nobody noticed what just happened.