The Journey Home
After leaving the client site this afternoon I walked the all-too familiar route to the railway station, asked the information kiosk which platform my train was going to be at (it wasn't showing on the displays yet), and walked the length of the train looking for unticketed seats.
There's a certain stress involved in standing next to an empty train that hasn't been announced yetwishing away anybody that begins walking towards your end of the train. That empty seat was mine. Of course it transpired that the carriage was half empty, so my mania over seat-bagging was a complete and utter waste of time.
I watched “Larry Crowne” on the way homethe Tom Hanks and Julia Roberts movie. I think I pretty much grinned continually for an hour and a half. Even though I've seen the movie before (more than once), there's just something about it. It's going to join Sleepless in Seattle, You've Got Mail, Serendipity, and Mr Holland's Opus on the list of movies that make the world right when you're feeling down (I'm sure there's a glib catch-phrase for that, but what the hellit's late, and I'm tired).
When I got off my final train, an elderly man accosted me just as I tried to call home;“Can you tell me which way the Brewery is?“He was about 70. It was sub-zero. The brewery is at least 2 miles from the station, and the route is not straightforward. I felt sorry for him, but didn't know how to tell him that it might be too far, and too difficult if somebody didn't go with him.“I'll walk a little way with you, and point you in the right direction”We walked”I was going to visit the brewery with my brother a few months ago, but he died”How the hell do you react to that? This wasn't a fun visit to the brewery open nightthis was a damn pilgrimage and was probably going to kill him too.
How do these kinds of things always happen to me?