Manchester/Bath UK Trip Journal Day 7
Southwest Train, Moving, Somewhere in the UK
I just saw a deer! A deer, standing in the middle of a field, cocking its head at the train as it passed.
Still on the train, Gentle Reader. Yes, I know you’re shocked. Remember, it’s been six hours of travel to get somewhere for a few hours. But God, it was so worth it.
The haze from earlier covers everything now as the sun sets and we get closer and closer to Bath. I’ve had not one drop of rain since I’ve come here. Isn’t that odd? I’ve had no rain, and some sun? There was sun in Manchester and then in Chawton today, and sun yesterday afternoon in Bath.
Now, a field full of sheep, grazing, and more stubby trees, pointed at the sky. And some Highland sheep (“wee hairy coos,” as our Scottish cab driver once said) in the field where we just passed.
For the most part, our coach is quiet, except for two women chatting away. I like it better when the coach is quiet; it adds to the ambiance of the train. I particularly loathe it when people chat away on their mobiles while on the train.
The fog has come in so thick, I can’t see much past the train anymore. The countryside looks like it belongs on the set of a Wuthering Heights remake, or that Darcy should come strolling through early in the a.m., looking for Elizabeth.
I saw an advertisement earlier for Galaxy chocolate bars that used Elizabeth and Darcy to sell the chocolate, but it spelled Bennet “Bennett,” and for some reason, that made me very angry. At least bother to research Austen before you use her to sell chocolates, no?
I petted two dogs today, one at Cassandra’s Cup, and one at Southampton Station. The first was a little (about 20 pounds) mutt, that was so cute. The other was a huge chow, who was so chill. “She’s tired,” her owner said. I petted her head and cooed at her. She looked up at her owner like, “really? You’re letting this happen, traitor?” but allowed me to pet her head. I miss the dogs so much; I can talk to Anthony on the phone, but I can’t talk to the dogs. He shows them to me on Facetime, but they can’t really see me or hear my voice, even.
I think I’m done with this for now. I want to enjoy the rest of my train travels, try to find out where I’m going to go for dinner, and think of more brilliant things to say to you, Gentle Reader. Until then, I remain, most sincerely, your Humble Narrator.
The Postmodern Bluestocking 