Another journey, returning, can't be sure on that, my life is a tad bi-polar. Anyway, needs, gents, phone charge, dump.bags, hiatus, without a hernia, maybe even a swift half. Greyhounds to greet, first!
'Sawley Junction' Busy, but not packed. Barred, by thirsty punters, but not permanently. So divert; turns out the gents, unisex and mind that gap, not only at this station, or any.
Default question in such a place, micro pub, porter? No, oaten stout, yes, please. Sits to survey another hell of a day and functional lighting gantries.
Couple(s), businessman, oh yes, on a business call, in for a quiet pint, him or me? Woman, can't work out, young? On her phone, head down.
Oh for a wristwatch, 1848 train and no way to know … No where to go, really, yet. Grab mobile, bags, fragrant Laurel clippings next my nose.
And lavender, for sleep under pillow. But that little less tonight. As I passed towards the door, phone put aside, you looked up and smiled.
Shy, confident, I'm not to know now. It was one of those, too many in life, 'oh hello … goodbye then' smiles. And I just time to register, ah, a little older, life, smiling.
And so, Long Eaton station. On the border, on the cusp between cold reality and a far warmer dream. Sit with the electronic realisation, sod - came out ten minutes, at least, too early, kicks heels.
Because, realisation, a pint, probably, not more than two. Could have had us, together with questions; local, travelling, the other, a 'friend', who did not show? Maslow, maybe I will develop a thirst, again!
5th September, 2019