Three weeks ago on the Hebridean Isle of Jura it was rainy and dull and I thought to myself, “How blissfully remote.”
Today in Bath it was rainy and dull and I thought to myself, “What a shithole!”
This brought me to conclude that it is not rainy and dull weather that I despise but cities. Some cities are alright if they are hot and exciting and filled with the colours, noises and aromas of the Third World but they are definitely not alright if you’re only there to cut elderly people’s toenails and sit in queues of stationary traffic for hours listening to egotistical tossers talking drivel and playing moronically insipid music on national radio because you forgot to take any CDs with you when you set off for work this morning.
To top the lot I had to drive home from work in the dark this evening because two days from now we will be in the bleak midwinter.
But I’m only moaning because it is what people have come to expect from me so I feel I ought to. Actually, as my travel habit has intensified over the last couple of years, I know that a trip is never all that far away and I find that the gloom of an English winter is easier to bear with the knowledge that I will soon escape to a place where it is not winter or not England or not both. So I’m happy really.
My Eurostar tickets for my November trip to Maastricht via Brussels, Swindon, Didcot and Reading came in the post today. That was quick because I only booked them on Monday. Almost as quick as the Eurostar train itself. So that gave me a warm feeling in my hollow tooth. Equally warm was the feeling of warmth from the knowledge that I had collected my Avios points merely by always buying my milk, bread and haemorrhoid preparations from Tesco and that I have sufficient points to get me not just to Maastricht but to Buenos Aires . . . and back . . . should I choose to come back.
Thank you Mr. Avios and thank you Mr. Eurostar. You are very kind.