These sentiments are commonplace. They have been for 18 months. I blame the graduate gloom. Tempted to coin this as a medical condition. Ins & outs aside, it's limbo-like and to be frank, I'm damned well over it. Partially the reason I'm moving home to Manchester; to centre myself, in a non-tree-hugger way.
I should start acting 23, rather than 63.
From a young age, brother & I spent our summers at the Manchester Museum, camping around the country, watching spaghetti Westerns and re-enacting scenes from Rawhide. I studied History and Classics until I was 18 and take every opportunity to get to exhibitions that expand my historical knowledge. It relaxes me. Distracts me.
I was in a jotting mood. The journey was 40 minutes, had forgotten book, I had no option but to note anything of interest. Man alive, you could have a blog dedicated to the tube and the souls that ride upon it (I'm sure there is). Within my 40 minute trek;
Chauvinistic man noting how girls up North don't wear coats even in the blistering cold. Reason? They have thicker skin & less brain cells. I was tempted to correct the slaphead.
Korean lady deciphering a Dean Kootz book with a (Korean) dictionary. Within 20 minutes she still hadn't completed page 2. I fear for her.
Bloody accordion player, half-hearted attempt at a jolly tune. You'd think he'd go the whole hog, dress up in traditional dress, but oh no, he's donning Rockports, Kappa popper-tracksuit pants and I couldn't stand to look at his top half. Guilt tripped into giving him 20p.
Man-boy-gender bender sits opposite me; sporting satin trousers & a wife beater top. If I'm not mistaken he is a pop star in Eastern Asia. Most peculiar.
A school trip of about 20 pile on, all displaying rep caps. Oh I am glad I never had to. The striped blazers were enough for me. 'Deckchair' taunts still haunt.
I never realised 'Holborn' was pronounced 'HO-BURN'. Learn something new every day.
The Bakerloo line seats are most likely the comfiest seats the TFL has to offer, bouncy.
Another Korean deciphering. It's Harry Potter. I'd have recommended something light, like Biff, Chip & Kipper. We all have to start somewhere.
As I depart at Lambeth North, I'm stuck in a lift with some very olive skinned youths. I'd guess around the ages of 14-16 & they're most perplexed as to why I would wear a turban. They cut serious style, which angers me as at that age, I was still in jungle pants and Little Miss tops.
On the 5 minute stroll to the museum, it dawned on me. Half term. Can only mean E number charged miniatures running like it's going out of fashion. Ah, I've come this far.
As suspected; picnics, ice-lollys (I caved, had a Mini Milk), and small people, who if they were fully grown, would be considered lunatics.
Guns, unexploded bombs, battle tanks. It was all going on.
I never knew that MI5 was originally set up to combat Irish Nationalism Terrorists.
Enjoyed the phrase 'one mans terrorist is another mans freedom fighter'. Moving.
A display entitled 'War Story serving in Afghanistan' showed images of those in combat. Shallow as it sounds, I found most of the men rather attractive.
A Trigger Happy TV moment 'can't talk, I'm in the museum' echoed around floor 2. Chortle.
The Holocaust exhibition was superb. Stupendous. The medicine to my ailment (in a non sado masochistic way). It's a real treat. I doubt my life will be e'er displayed in a museum. Tesco uniform? Snaps from the early 90s? That time I was in Grazia? Doubtful.
With my spirits lifted suitably, I stalked back to the tube station. I'd had fun. Despite looking a tad shady in a room full of children, with a notebook and pen. And turban.
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