On the train to Hull... I feel better, better leaving London, but not about going to Hull, just going. I write in my notebook 'Train, faster, untill it explodes, just to know what it feels like, but I don't want to feel the pain: How selfish' I'm reading it back now and I have no idea what I meant really. But anyway, I started (and couldn't put down) 'The Unbearable Lightness of Being' by Milan Kundera. It's been on my shelf now for months but I had other books to read first. I'm happy I chose this one to bring here with me. It has in fact managed to steal the position from Murakami, 'Kafka on the Shore' of best book of all time (to be continued...) within the first 127 pages. I am more than a little impressed. I usually watch trees and think about crazy things that would never happen and make fantasies about people I shouldn't when I'm on trains. I'll catch up on that when I get back as I'm sure I'll finish this book while I'm here. As soon as I got here (out of There) I became inspired again. I wanted to be near a sewing machine and make a dress in peacock colours then write more and more chapters of my book after re-writing the ones I already have and keep writing till I've finished. I know though that untill I get a place of my own (wherever that may be) I'm not going to feel like this again any time soon, and this is not a reflection on the people I live with as they are lovely, but more about me and my daft and stupid head. I don't know where I'm supposed to be at the moment and I'm not sure if the book is helping or not. I do know, though, that being on trains is fun. I wish I could just be on a train, an empty one like this one but that just goes all over the countryside all the time and never stops (and doesn't explode either as my subconcious wanted it to at the begining of my journey)
I'm happy to see my Mum and everyone. My Nana told me new stories, while Grandad clicked his teeth... we talked about the universe and drank coffee. Then there was a pile of stuff from my past for me to sort... I found my Mums old make up that I used to play with when I was little. The bag opened and powder fell across the floor; the smell of my childhood. I wish the train would also go back in time.