Written on | September 5, 2010 | 3 Comments
It’s five days until I move to Glasgow, so I’m writing a series of nostalgic posts .. and dredging up a few old photos you hoped you’d seen the last of. I’ve written about papers, the field, pool at seven, and movie nights already.
I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve caught the bus and train to Edinburgh or Glasgow. There’s nothing like the excitement of standing shivering in the bus station or on the platform in my pig hat or raspberet (everyone making fun of my excessive luggage, and me being smug in the knowledge that inevitably someone will have forgotten something, and the only person to have it will be .. yes, me. Of course I have one. Who’s laughing now?! ..), knowing that we’re going somewhere, getting out of Aberdeen for a little while to where nobody knows us and we can be anyone. Don’t you just feel so important when you make your way (albeit ungracefully, juggling all your bags and that Costa coffee and the magazine you decided you really needed to buy) through the ticket barrier with your ticket in hand. Excuse me, ‘scuse me, coming through. I am important for the weekend and have somewhere to be.
I’ve done early morning train rides on the way to university open days, nursing a cup of coffee in my flask with the John Lewis map on the front. I’ve done late night train rides, on the last train out of Glasgow after Kiss earning smiles with our painted faces and Burger Kings in hand. I’ve done train rides in the sunshine, eating cupcakes and chair dancing and listening to Eet by Regina Spektor on repeat.
I’ve caught the Megabus in a gaggle of seven, singing and laughing and making the other passengers hate us. I’ve caught the Megabus in the early morning, falling asleep against the window as we make our way through the traffic and the mist and rain. I’ve caught the Megabus late at night and attempted the crossword in the genuine Glaswegian newspaper, sitting next to you when our crazy plans were still alive. And in that moment, I swear we were infinite.
I’ve written songs on the backs of cookie packets and been squashed under tables and nearly fallen out of toilet windows when the train rounds a corner. I’ve sang through the whole of Bedknobs and Broomsticks with my best friend, overheard strange conversations, written painting suggestions in sketchbooks, read Harry Potter in French, and sat next to Polish men with smelly sandwiches.
I always wanted there to be someone waiting for me at the station, for them to be craning their neck to see me in the crowd and to smile when they found me. And now I’m moving the train and Megabus will mean more to me than ever before. Now it won’t be the going away that’s important, it’ll be the coming home. Will you wait for me? I’ll come running and jump into your arms. And everyone will smile when they see us, and wish that would happen to them; then I’ll take your hand and you’ll happily carry my excessive luggage all the way home.