An Outing: The Ending

You will have to excuse me, it's been a while since I wrote for my blog, a while since I updated you on my brief weekend away, and even longer since I actually experienced it - my memory is somewhat fuzzy. The only reason I am writing tonight is because I promised myself I would. Let me tell you, if you're looking to practice your writing, and perhaps make a career out of it, forcing yourself to write is never a wise approach. Much like me you'll find yourself sat in an old chair, mind wandering and aching as you churn out words. Not even good words. Certainly not your best words. Much like I'm doing, you'll sit there, run your hand through your hair and rest your head in your palm for a few seconds. You'll consider your options:

1) Write another night, when you feel inspired
2) Suck it up, get working
3) Nobody reads this anyway, forget the series. Write about other things

So I consider my options. I refuse to put it off and put it off - option the first is no good. '2)' could be a winner. Then again, after every sentence I get a sinking feeling that this isn't my best work. I want to delete every sentence after scrawling it. Eradicate and remove it and pretend it never happened. Despite this, I'm plodding on. I plod on because, though I may not be a very good writer, I am, at least, an honest writer. I would rather explore my feelings of fatigue and frustration than bottle them up and pretend they don't exist. It's all about experience. I have very little experience. Perhaps people will read this and think "what a drivelling idiot, this rambling is pathetic" or perhaps they will think "actually, I can really relate to that dejected, frustrated feeling. I've been there, I empathise." I won't know until I bite the bullet and post what I write. Option 3 is somewhat true. However, I happen to be something of a collector, I like neat, tidy order. Abandoning my write-up of a weekend long-since passed would niggle at me. "Why didn't you finish Sam?" "Why not post a little entry? Wrap everything up? Won't that look neat and complete?" So, I am in two minds. The OCD-angel on one shoulder encourages me to finish. The anarchistic devil opposite wants to move on and explore and do as he pleases. Let me try to satisfy both by briefly summarising what you missed.

• We board a York to Edinburgh train on Saturday Morning.
• We board an Edinburgh to Glasgow train on Saturday Afternoon
• A young girl called Ella, seated a few rows ahead, constantly interrupts the journey with incessant moaning.
• Never teach your children a second language, especially if you don't speak it.
• Riding the Glaswegian subway is how I imagine demons commute to work in Hell.
• We saw Bill Bailey on the Saturday night. We sat so high up I was making eye-contact with the rafters. I felt a nosebleed coming on. At one point I attempted to burp before realising there was little atmosphere left for it to emerge into, so the bubble of irn bru gas sat idly in my gullet.
• We rounded off the trip by rock-climbing in an abandoned church.
• We board a Glasgow to Edinburgh train on Sunday Afternoon.
• We board an Edinburgh to York train on Sunday Afternoon.
• I board a York to Accrington train on Sunday Evening.
• I get bored of boarding somewhere along the way.

Now, perhaps I can put that whole weekend to bed. We will resume normal programming shortly

Thank you and goodnight

Image Owner: Donna St. Pierre