I’ve had to make some rather difficult decisions in the past few weeks relating to my relationships and life, which have been very sad, and difficult, but ultimately necessary, and I feel like a lot of stress is starting to dissipate, but time will tell. I do really want this year to be much better than what has seemed like swinging between various crises for the past few years. I generally found 2022 (and probably 20), for the most part, to be a big pile of balls, although with some memorable and life-changing moments too. I am having a very thorough time of reflection in this, the first month of 2023. Weirdly, it is a scene with strong similarities to the finale of the much more serious ‘Dark Knight Rises’ I do hope Christopher Nolan did that on purpose. I recall having a rest later in the day and watching the 1960s Batman Movie with Adam West running around with a giant paper machete bomb as he attempted to avoid dropping it next to nuns and swimmers. Alas, it was a good day and it was great to be congratulated by random strangers walking along the seafront. There is a little registry office on The Hoe, next to the lighthouse, where I did all the saying of the words and signed away significant amounts of legal freedom. That’s right, my soft-stalking folk, I was once a relatively happily married man. One day I will sit down and investigate how train journey times have gotten longer since the heyday of steam in the 1940s (we can hardly wait for that newsletter, Tom!).Ī fun personal fact for you: I used to live in Plymouth, in fact, I got married there (!!!! What!!!). However, it amuses me to think that a trip from Swindon to Plymouth by train will take the best part of 6 hours. That takes place tomorrow, but I really can’t be arsed to deal with the stress of an early commute on a Monday, so I opted for a chilled Sunday travel plan instead. I am on my way to Plymouth to visit the closing ceremony of a project I have helped manage in my day job at the Environmental Research Council. It is immensely beautiful in a depressively English way. The sun has just burst through the clouds and lit up the fields of what I once would have marked as ‘intensive arable’ on wildlife survey maps. 15 cigarettes and is now having a great time posting pictures of the interior of the train carriage to his Instagram stories (yesss Ciggy boy, I see all!!!). There is a young chap behind me that has spent the past 30 minutes rolling himself approx. Branson, what a moron! Anyway, it is nice to look out at the intensively mismanaged (aka fucked) British countryside landscape and imagine it in some romantic form instead, much like everyone else does. I’m on a CrossRail Voyager, which is a pile of shit of a train, to be fair. Today’s writing location is on a train! That is pretty novel, is it not? 2023 and here I am tear-arsing (is that specifically a Midlands term?) towards Plymouth at… well, probably 80mph given the speed restrictions and the state of the UK’s railway infrastructure.
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