Revolutionary Rants

Yesterday was a long day…

Having originally woken with Mr Chicken at 6:40 am and dozing there after, I got up and ready and left the house at 10 am. I stood patiently with all the other passengers waiting on platform 3, until our train pulled in to platform 7 and we all went running at the ‘platform alteration’ announcement. We all boarded and I got a seat all on my own, settling for a three and a half hour tow up through Oxford, Banbury, Lemington Spa, Coventry, Birmingham International, Brimingham New Street, Derby and finally arriving in Sheffield at around 14:30 (a little late).

Waiting on the platform for me was my trusty University friend and comrade Andrew, and we headed off for a coffee and a chat. The rain began to fall as we headed to the University of Sheffield for my interview. Andrew took refuge in the library, and I went for my ‘aptitude test’ (questions and a small piece of writing) and a 40 minute interview. I hope this went OK, as they said i was ‘interesting’ and things, but perhaps a little more involved in politics than journalism. We shall see, I am happy that I went and had an interview at all. After a walk around under our umbrellas Andrew and I settled on the local Wetherspoon’s for a ‘2 for £6′ meal before i returned to the station to catch my train back down south.

I spent the next three hours, again, going through the same station - in reverse, of course, and reading ‘The Murder Room’ by P D James, which I am thoroughly enjoying.

We passed, again, through Oxford. As the rain sheeted down the window and on the town my father had studied in all those years ago, I thought how easy it would be to get out of the train and start a whole new, different life. Just like the man who walked out of his house in Newcastle and was only discovered 30 years later living a whole different life a few miles down the road in Middlesborough (Well, you wouldn’t think of looking in Middlesborough, I suppose.) I have always had a longing for Oxford - goodness knows why - but the reality of life (and the fact i only have £55 in my account!) that I am very happy where I am struck as the train pulled out in to the night towards the dull town of Reading, and the much less dull Chicken waiting for me. I suppose I was feeling philosophical as I may have to decide between ‘journalism’ and ‘politics’ soon - something which I feel ill-equipped to do…