On the other side now, of the world. Gatwick. Rainy. People. Construction. Buses. Lost.
A drawn out landing and brought his long hauling across the globe to a climatic end. Landing back home held back from his for a few more precious minutes in the sky, like he had a choice to turn back. Like he was being asked if he really wanted to do this.
The rush through the baggage claim and out. Let loose.
In a whirl to the toilet, to Boots, to the North Terminal. He mentally checked off all the things he told himself he would do once he landed.
Lost.
- Where was the bus terminal? What is all this construction? Where is a sign to help me? This woman is taking too long with this man!
He stumbles upon the bus station but has time to burn, and some change too.
Discovering a coffee shop he finds relative peace, but two Italians sit slightly too close for comfort, and construction makes it self known close by. Work mates and business men laugh and banter. His face felt dry and stumble covered. He weary now, not like those around him just beginning their days.
But it was nice to be in the cafe. His drink came in a long tall clear glass, it seemed conspicuous, but he was too weary to let it bother him now.
And the staff. A mixture of English and others. They laughed and got along well. There was energy and life, a jovial atmosphere it seems. It's over priced, who cares, There is construction going on, who cares.
- Oh well!
There were many staff, enough to man a plane. Why not 'woman one' he wondered? They life of the staff was in contrast to the deafness of the Italian. The staff it seemed were just arriving, perhaps the Italians, stuck in their long silences, were departing?
Another long journey awaited. 4 hours on a bus. At the end family duties. A hug.
He was back, that much was true. But that was it. Nothing more certain could be said. He told himself to saviour the calm of the coffee shop. Life here would soon starting sweeping him along.
A drawn out landing and brought his long hauling across the globe to a climatic end. Landing back home held back from his for a few more precious minutes in the sky, like he had a choice to turn back. Like he was being asked if he really wanted to do this.
The rush through the baggage claim and out. Let loose.
In a whirl to the toilet, to Boots, to the North Terminal. He mentally checked off all the things he told himself he would do once he landed.
Lost.
- Where was the bus terminal? What is all this construction? Where is a sign to help me? This woman is taking too long with this man!
He stumbles upon the bus station but has time to burn, and some change too.
Discovering a coffee shop he finds relative peace, but two Italians sit slightly too close for comfort, and construction makes it self known close by. Work mates and business men laugh and banter. His face felt dry and stumble covered. He weary now, not like those around him just beginning their days.
But it was nice to be in the cafe. His drink came in a long tall clear glass, it seemed conspicuous, but he was too weary to let it bother him now.
And the staff. A mixture of English and others. They laughed and got along well. There was energy and life, a jovial atmosphere it seems. It's over priced, who cares, There is construction going on, who cares.
- Oh well!
There were many staff, enough to man a plane. Why not 'woman one' he wondered? They life of the staff was in contrast to the deafness of the Italian. The staff it seemed were just arriving, perhaps the Italians, stuck in their long silences, were departing?
Another long journey awaited. 4 hours on a bus. At the end family duties. A hug.
He was back, that much was true. But that was it. Nothing more certain could be said. He told himself to saviour the calm of the coffee shop. Life here would soon starting sweeping him along.
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