Holiday diary/talking to the wind

It struck me today as I sat on the beach watching the waves that I usually keep a diary when I go away, and this time I haven’t even bought a pen. I know it’s only 3 nights, maybe that’s why I didn’t think to bring the new notebook that’s waiting…

Anyway, holiday diaries tend to be a bit rambling, a way of sorting thoughts that might be bothering me, so if I get a bit tangential feel free to stop reading.

An early start today, to ensure that I didn’t leave getting up until the last possible minute and end up running for the train as usual. First leg of the journey was to Reading, and after lunch there on to Par, which is near St Austell in Cornwall. There was a total of six hours travelling, and I was happy that I’d booked a window seat. I love watching the world go rushing by. All sorts of things to see today – man flashing from his flat, fishermen, clay pigeons, someone practicing their golf in an empty field…only one delay, as we stopped so that a beach tent could be removed from our path. The train was fairly busy, but full points to first Great Western, for high seat backs and enough leg room for me!

On arrival at the final destination, I discovered that the hotel wasn’t joking when it said ‘by the station’. I checked in, and then went to stretch my legs, well for a walk, it was nearly a mile but I went to the seaside. I walked a bit on the beach, but mostly sat watching the waves, thinking.

About my job, about things people have said recently that really hurt even though they probably weren’t meant in that way, and generally stuff that I don’t let bother me at home. It was like being back in Sri Lanka, where I was lucky enough to go to the beach almost every day. It’s no secret I’m not happy where I am. There’s potential for something different, there or maybe elsewhere, but it’s out of my hands. Before I came away a colleague seemed surprised that I was going away on my own, and her wording made it sound as though I’d announced I have two heads. That same response I get when I say I don’t drink. She couldn’t grasp that I have no one to go away with  so it’s alone or nothing. And to be honest, quite often I’d rather go alone. It’s only when it comes to eating that I notice it.

And then there’s the reason I’m alone. Too picky. More like no one quite measures up to the one that got away, and the only person who does has made it clear his feelings are elsewhere. Hey ho. Mostly, like 98% of the time it’s fine. Hell, if there was someone, I’d hardly have got away with booking a holiday starting Sunday on Friday night, would I?

Dinner at the hotel is lovely, although the portions are a little large. Still, it’ll stop me eating the biscuits just because they are there! I should really check out the desert menu, must be some Cornish Ice cream on it.

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