I usually wake up sad, but this morning not. A very restless night that was finally aided and abetted by sleeping medication but then quite magically awakening to the beautiful song of a bird. It was so melodious and wonderful. Different from all others, even the ones in noisy Dolphin Square.
I have already fired off a blog ‘housekeeping’ email to my guru Chris and in it I mentioned this rather strange memory. “This next part of the journey seems major. I feel like I am jumping off the high diving board into the deepest water in a swimming pool – the physical education department made us do it at the University of Alberta during my freshman year. I thought I would die, as I have water phobia. I didn’t (obviously) drown or die but boy was I scared! I must blog this.” It is how I feel about this stage of my life but in a strange way its ok.
i have the words to a song going through my head again. This time it is: “Ain’t No Sunshine When She’s Gone.” but no time to YouTube it, thank goodness.
In my usual preparatory fashion I am reading the information on the train trip. It solemnly informs that at night my little room becomes a bed but that the en suite toilet will be covered by the bed. What happens if I have to go in the night? I am sure there will be a solution. Something like going down the hall during stay at the Panama Hotel will prepare me for such an experience. I will steadily walk down the corridor of the train in my sexy bedclothes. Sexy bedclothes you say? Yes, a extra large T-shirt featuring Homer Simpson saying: “English! Who Needs That? I’m Never Going to England.” I, of course, find this hilarious. People point out, and it is true, that humor is sexy. Not sure why but it sure is. I thought I would die laughing yesterday at translations of emoji people. Some idiot keeps sending me emoji greetings and finally I figure out what he was saying. Oh My Goodness! At times I can be quite dense and stupid. I show no emoji talent whatsoever. One cannot be everything to all people.
I received a wonderful email from Carol who refers to me as her vagabond sister. She is not really my sister, I explain solemnly to cousin Gail. She is actually the sister-in-law of my pretend sister Adele. I think I will get to see both Carol and Adele when I get to Edmonton which is in four sleeps, I think. Only one of which will occur on top of a toilet. I am laughing so hard at his moment. It seems so improbable, to be sleeping on top of a toilet on a train.
The photo that accompanies this post was taken at West Wemyss in Scotland. It is a picture of a bird painted by Jock Dryburgh, He is the funny 84 year old man who told me that it would be a fate worse than death to be stranded on a desert island with me. He said he would just walk into the water and say: “Take me sharks, I cannot stand to be around this woman any more.” He was not visible (probably hiding) on my second trip to Scotland but the people in the restaurant pointed out his paintings that adorned the walls. He is talented….and funny…but too old for me, I prefer younger men.
