Just a little snippet of my thoughts from my journey to Glasgow on Sunday:
I remember taking a trip to St Anns with a close friend. We rented a small flat, raided Woolworths on a daily basis for stationary and spent our days drawing and playing Gin Rummy.
In the evenings we visited the beach. We sat amongst the dunes. We stood in the sand as the seas created islands around us. I’d never seen the sea behave that way before, nor have I since. We talked. We introspected. We sat in a shared silence, Blackpool casting a heavy shadow over us.
Riding the train from York to Glasgow on little sleep, Grumps rears it’s head. I complain via text to loved ones and I sit back to stare blankly out of the opposite window.
Greenery rolls by. Moors. And then it breaks into glorious sea. Stretches and stretches of glistening blue, even in England. My shoulders sink, my body sighs as if I was holding onto a breath that I didnt know about, the waves crash and disappear into a vast nothingness towards the deep blue horizon.
I feel oddly calmed by the sea. Maybe I’ll live beside the seaside someday.
