|Monay 17 May 2010|
I was woken in the middle of the night by the sound of waves. Having
a fear of floods, I was instantly alert, tempted to feel for the water
lapping at the doona. All was dry and I realised it was Mirinda's iPhone.
An app that reproduces calming noises had been activated to aid in her
sleep. Apparently the sound of my snoring doesn't work, no matter how
hard she tried to think of it as the ocean.
My phone then heralded it was time to rise properly. Mirinda packed
and left for uni while I appeared in the breakfast room for scrambled
eggs on toast. Having forgotten a book to amuse myself, I had to make
do with the old gent and (I'm tempted to say daughter but she could
have been his much younger wife or his sister for all I know) the woman
he was with.
They managed to keep me entertained for a few minutes as they decided
which table to sit at. He was rather keen on a window but after he sat,
with his back to the light, she sat and was instantly blinded. She was
back on her feet, readjusting her vision. He was rather befuddled but
managed to get to his shaky feet. They moved to another table. All the
while, the Schumanian waitress was fluttering about, helpfully supplying
them with options.
After trying all the tables at the windows, the woman finally settled
on a seat and he went off to get his cereal and orange juice. Upon his
return he was a bit confused as she'd disappeared. He looked around,
careful not to spill any of his breakfast.
"Over here," Came a cry, "I moved again!"
He grumbled a bit but made his way over to her at the table furthest
from the windows. Pity I didn't bring my book down with me.
Fully egged up for the day, I packed, checked out and made my way to
the station. It was a beautiful day. So beautiful, it was nothing like
yesterday. I made my slow way along the roads, following the river,
laughing at the crazy drivers in their snarled up cars and the half
empty buses. Oh, frabjous day. Of course, it only took me ten minutes
to get to the station and I found myself, sat reading, half an hour
before my train.
How ironic. I was in a carriage, comfortable in the fact that it is
only half full and surrounded by many laptops being tippy tapped at
by their owners and opposite me, all clean cut and polite, a chap reading
his bible. He was reading Romans and taking notes. Pity I was typing
and not reading my Dawkins. He had to get up and make a phone call,
taking his notebook with him. I can only assume he rang God to clarify
a few points in the narrative. He was actually attending some sort of
conference. The first agenda point was "prayer".
When the train pulled into Paddington he asked about Dyrham Park (I
had the guidebook on the table), saying he'd often wondered about taking
his family there. I raved about it and, I think, convinced him he should.
The journey from Bath to Paddington was excellent. The time slipped away as I typed up the weekend in comfort and a quiet carriage that actually was. A tube directly to Waterloo and I almost stepped straight onto a train home.
I really wanted to include the picture below. It was on Saturday when we were wandering around Bath looking for St Swithin's church where Jane Austen's father was the preacher (like five years ago, we couldn't get in) and I was struck by how skinny the building on the left is. Clearly it widens a bit as it goes along but the end is pretty skinny!