A suspension in time
Through the eye of the observer
Last week I went to Edinburgh to visit my sister and see some shows at The Fringe. The journey to Edinburgh is one I’ve made a few times now, and I definitely prefer the train to flying. I like looking out of the window. Living in London I rarely get public transport, favouring a Lime bike to reach places further than walking distance. This will probably change when autumn’s chill begins to set in. But even then, if given the choice I’d pick the bus over the tube gladly accepting the minutes added onto my trip from the traffic. I am an observer. I like people-watching and seeing things that might have gone otherwise unnoticed.
The route from King’s Cross to Waverly is a magical one, grazing past the very edges of North Eastern England before crossing the border. We fly by little coastal towns and communities of people I will never meet or know. I try to envision what my life would be like living there, in that quaint little place next to the sea. I experience feelings similar to those I’ve had on journeys to Edinburgh before.
I’ve been thinking about summer ending since it began. I know I’ve already told you this. I promise I’m not trying to drag you down with me. But I’ve been trying to plan and prepare for how I might feel, anticipating the inevitable shift my in thoughts about everyday life. I’m a worrier. I spend most of my time looking ahead and solving problems to things that aren’t happening yet. I forget what’s happening now. I don’t want to take things for granted. It’s a thought that passed through my mind verbatim last week when I walked to a coffee shop to sit and read and write. It was a sunny day so I sat outside on their patio, working away on my laptop al fresco. It’s exactly where I wanted to be. I stretched and tipped my head up to the sky. Clear blue as far as my eyes could see, the branches of a tree still green and full of leaves swayed gently to offer me shade. I want to be outside as much as possible. I want to luxuriate in light evenings. I want to see the world go by.
I can’t stop thinking about
’s words from last summer on slowing down the passing of time. I’ve told you before that I have forever felt like it’s too late. Even as a child, and as a teenager. Certain experiences I craved slipped through my fingers and didn’t happen for me. I weaponised hindsight to believe things could have been different. That I should have been different. Conveniently I would forget all the context at the time that led me to make the choices I did.I like the way time slows down on trains. If you resist you’ll only make things worse. Time slows down too much and it seems the journey will never end as you’re trapped inside a fast-moving metal contraption. Much like how people have been raw-dogging long-haul flights. No phone, no sleep, no music, no in-flight entertainment. Not even any food or water, leading medical professionals to step in and talk about the dangers associated with dehydration and deep vein thrombosis - don’t try this at home, kids.
Being grounded, plus the act of moving forwards, it propels my brain into activation mode.
Trains to me are also a type of transcendence; a suspension from the regular world. I can dare to dream, to believe that anything is possible. I am prone to fantasy, can you tell? You can ignore the banality of everyday life and exist in the safety of the carriage cocoon for a few hours. Next time I’m on a train, I think I might switch my phone and laptop to airplane mode. No pings, no alerts, no notifications to anything happening on the outside world. I want time to really stand still.
My inspiration tends to find me best at the most inconvenient of times. In the shower. Just when I’m about to nod off, eye mask on. Usually when I don’t have a pen to hand or even my phone within reach. I pray the words won’t have taken flight by the time I come to take note. Truth is, I rarely remember the thoughts or ideas at all if I don’t immortalise them in writing immediately. Washed away down the drain. Pushed aside to make space for subconscious sleeping dreams.
I’m already excited for the next time I’m on a train. A journey to somewhere new would be even better. Finding new little towns and catching tiny details of everyday life through the window. I will be full of awe and poised to capture every idea that the journey brings.
