I don’t consider myself to be worldly-wise.
I haven’t seen the world. Yet.
I haven’t travelled all over, and experienced the diversity that only a true ramblin’ man could.
But I think I’ve had first hand experience of some quite varied environments within the United Kingdom. I’ve lived in cities, and I’ve lived in villages, and a spectrum in between.
Tonight, 2:05am, I walked home from the train station amidst the sodium lights and the shrill birdsong, both of which are still filtering in through my open balcony doors. And I felt this feeling of unity, like the minor details of my life so far had been distilled and mixed into a small basin, and were being fed to me there and then.
I realise now that I have achieved so much more in 2002 than I dreamed possible. I am in a fantastic situation right now, and this is a great place to be attacking the remainder of my life from. Let’s hope that I don’t fuck it up.
Some rewinding may be in order.
I didn’t steal the broken headrest from the train tonight.
Rewind.
I was sat on the return train tonight, amidst pissheads and lager louts who were staggering up the aisles and laughing the most despicable laughs imaginable. A broken headrest was opposite me, laid on the seat, inviting me to use it as a weapon, so that I may destroy the form of this twat in a beanie hat who was laughing like a bad comedian.
Rewind.
The Gods were smiling on me tonight. After wandering the streets of Wimbledon for 45 minutes, I was sure that I was doomed to spend the next six hours trapsing the highways and byways, waiting for the public transport to restart in the morning so that I may be on my merry way. I had missed the train that I was aiming for, by a long shot. It was long gone, and I couldn’t see a resolution.
I continued to walk. After all, what else is there? I would walk all night, if necessary. It would be a learning experience, that would build me as a man. I’ve walked all night before, and if necessary I would walk all night again.
However, I broke the crest of a hill and was warmed by the glow of Wimbledon station. The grail. The target. If only I had happened upon it earlier.
I wandered inside, more out of curiosity than any belief that it would be fulfilling. I sauntered to my regular platform. Hark, what did I see? A train. But not just any train.
A train that could take me home.
Rewind.
I left the party on foot at about half past midnight. I had a train to catch. As long as things went according to plan, I could be home in an hour. 1:30am. A quite respectable time.
The party was very enjoyable actually. It was attended by a dozen rather likeable people, with only a small number being too drunk to appreciate it. The wine was plentiful, the music was variable, and the conversation was of a fine calibre. I was having a good night, amongst like-minded individuals.
Dare I say it, probably the best New Years’ Eve on record.
And now, to my readership. I’d like to wish a lot of love to you all. Over this coming year there will be moments of greatness, and moments of not-so-greatness. It’s inevitable. But I’ll look after you in any way that I can.
Adieu. Speak to you tomorrow.