It started out in Barrow (see above), a town on England’s north west coast. It’s a lovely place to be a duck, swan, or goose.
What a beautiful sunny day Tuesday was:
Of course a sunny day spent on train platforms is like a Belgium chocolate coated beer-cap.
I shouldn’t complain about train platforms- nobody’s forced me to live out the rest of my days on one. I’d rather think of it like this: every train platform is taking me that much closer to home.
I like to take a moment to say that Virgin Trains (1st Class) rock! You get served coffee and apples from a person who actually begrudges you a smile. More of a face stretch, really, but there’s still the effort made.
I got to sit, sipping my coffee, and stare enviously at the jets flying overhead.
The next night was in Preston.
Preston… has nice hardwood floors.
The bathroom at my B&B had pink shag carpet- you don’t see that very often- I won’t mention the actual name of the B&B, only that it was in Preston.
The hallways at the theatre appeared to made of chrome.
I don’t want to sound unkind towards the not-so-lovely places that I travel to. If you can’t say something nice etc..
That being said: Preston isn’t the prettiest of all places.
Now I was born in an industrial (kind of shabby) town and since then I’ve lived in my share of hideous places.
Does that make me worthless? An ugly home does not an ugly person make. Even a Shangri-la can be populated with ghouls.
Hell, even my family has moved away from a picture postcard town (a place very close to my heart) to an industrial town (a place that I associate with the smell of sulphur). Despite its esthetic inferiority, the place has started to grow on me with every new memory we make there as a family. The surroundings almost don’t matter.
I suppose that means that even life on a train platform could be bearable if the right people were there. And if it was sunny.
Preston has good people, I know because I met some of them while I was there. I hope that I get to go back.
Solihull was the next night. It’s a great town and we had an awesome Victorian era B&B.
Plus, I got to meet up with my old partners (Richard and Anne) in crime from my One Man Star Wars UK tours:
It was my second time back to Solihull. I’d forgotten that the theatre sort of boarders a giant mall. There are tons of malls throughout the UK, but this one is special. It could be because one store had these (and only these) to sell:
I was very pleased to realize the morning I woke up in Solihull, that my glass had become half full. There were more days behind (at least as far as this tour is concerned) than lay ahead.
The home stretch had begun.