Being a review blog, it's natural that my blog is just filled with reviews on the latest books I've been reading. But to be honest, this is straying from my original intentions with this blog. While I love reviewing and will continue to do so, this blog will definitely be changing (hopefully for the better) - I've had an identity crisis here. While my youtube is a collection of whatever I feel like making, here I've been quite basic and rigid. Today sees a change, today I talk about my weekend. You can pass this by and read another review, but this is just one of the few changes I'd like to make here. I'd like to do more reviews on film, do more blog posts on what I've been up to, on where I've been, on whatever I want to really. I initially started out writing about my university life (posts can be seen here), and I'd like to add-on to those posts as I embark on my final year of university (scary!)
Anyway, today's blog post is one in a couple of posts in which I talk about my weekend away in Northumberland and Scotland. This particular anecdote is in regards to a pigeon-obsessed man, an unattended bag and arriving in Alnmouth.
But yes, whilst I awaited for a connecting train from Manchester Piccadilly to York, I had a sit down, ate a sandwich (kind-of, I'm known for never being able to finish them - boring fact -), and marvelled at the man sat next to me. You see, the pigeon on the floor had been stood, observing my eating habits, hoping for food and attention. As it stood, it decided to stand on one leg, maybe the other fell asleep? Maybe the pigeon's like me - whilst volunteering at a charity shop, and when bored, I tend to hold one leg, I don't know why, when we have no customers and I'm not using the till, I get a bit bored and obviously, slightly strange- anyway, the pigeon was stood on one leg. The man next to me, pointed to it, gave a laugh and giggled with his wife. However, this was not enough. I could see the desire within the man's inability to sit still that laughing was not enough. He wanted to see this other leg. It's almost as if he wanted it to be one-legged. Which isn't uncommon, I've seen quite a few pigeons with one leg, it's a sad sight. But maybe this guy wasn't from Manchester and needed proof that it did have one leg. He stood up slowly, made his way around to the back of the pigeon. I could almost hear the pigeon thinking, "God, not again", as he lunged forward to pick it up.
Well, I have never jumped so much in my life as the pigeon flapped its wings and flew at me. The man knelt on one knee laughing. I have a slight phobia of pigeons, especially when they flap their wings. So, after being bewildered and traumatised by the pigeon, and copying its flailing movements, I went for my train. (I may or may not have been having heart palpitations at this point).
The platform was busy and full of people waiting to get on the train, naturally. I was a bit nervous about getting my seat. I'm one of those who loves train journeys,that is, I love train journeys when you're comfortably in a seat you know is yours and have your book out, but until I'm at that point I'm nervous. You have to fish out your ticket, your seat reservation, panic at the undoubtable situation in which you have to tell a stranger they're in your seat (slight human interaction), and then dump your things in the storage above you, whilst others are trying to push past you to get to a free seat and push their pram down the aisle. It's hectic and I don't do well with those situations, especially alone. I am quite tragic.
But as I stood there watching a woman lift her suitcase onto the train, I had a moment of confusion. Why did that suitcase make me feel so panicky, oh yes, my brain clicked... you had a bag with you. Shit, shit, shit. I ran back to the pigeon-hotspot, only to find a policeman rummaging through my belongings. Oops. After explaining, slowly edging away to the platform in a state of apology and marvelling at his hat, I got on the train, found my seat on a table with a family of three, and was on my way. Phew!
Isn't it weird how nosy we can be? I mean, I don't mean to be rude, but when sat on a train and your book is most unfulfilling (I was reading Never Coming Back), one can't help but listen in to conversations. I didn't hear anything important or interesting, but I find it interesting that we can hear a fragment of someone's life, we're all colliding at one point, bound to never consciously meet again. From the impression I got, the grandfather wasn't as close to his son-in-law as he'd like to be, he'd probably insisted on the journey to be with his grandson, who was obsessed with trains and was impressively able to name every train that went past us. He had a magazine on the topic that the pair were eyeing intensely. The father seemed like a bit of a distant dad - not that i'm judging, just observing - he made calls to work, and also spoke about things to the grandfather in which he said he didn't know were happening because he just "goes to work". It seems quite sad, but nice that they were off somewhere together. I probably grinned and unnerved them.
Anyway, I made my connection in York to Alnmouth, and after half-an-hour of being stood up, I found an empty seat and was told by a six-year-old boy that it seemed I'd been swallowing stones. Lovely. Actually, him, his mum and the girl next to me were all really nice, and it's quite a nice feeling sitting with strangers, maybe having a chat and learning about their life a bit, all before you disembark, go your separate ways, again to probably never speak again. I find it fascinating, and I'm glad there are still people sociable enough to have a talk with a stranger, just so the world seems like a slightly smaller and happier place. And whilst I can be socially awkward, just as long as they don't try to charm pigeons, I'm incredibly happy to chat back.
