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I have to go home periodically to renew my sense of horror.
Carson Mc Cullers

I have transported my neurosis and myself to France for the Christmas holidays.

1. My mother had 'sorted out' my belongings (see previous posts) so I'm feeling more like a stranger in my old home than I've ever done. She has also smoked all the pot that my brother had left. She claims it didn't do anything to her. I'm not sure I buy that, since she is currently painting a mural of camels' heads in the downstairs bathroom.


2. Precious train moments #1
An uneventful journey. Twenty minutes after departure, I offer one of my glossy magazines to the fidgety man with brutal halitosis sitting on my right, in the hope that it doesn't encourage him to breathe through his nose, it will at least sedate him before we get to Paris. Across the aisle from me is sitting an old man; he is echoing every announcement made by the train crew. 'Sandwiches! yeah! Paris Gare du Nord! Ashford! Yeah!' The unsuspecting younger man in the adjacent seat has put on his headphones.'Hey, whatcha doing? 'I am trying to.. I'm listening to some music.' 'I want to do that too.' Not betraying any surprise or irritation, the young man offers one of his headphones. His companion starts belting out onomatopoeia. 'Just listen', the young guy whispers. Later the old man falls asleep, chin on chest. I do no laugh; I am in awe of the patient passenger. I think I envy him a little.


3. Precious train moments #2
A night of January 2002, a South West train is taking my girlfriend of two weeks and me from Southampton ferry port back to Victoria station. The carriage is empty but for a couple of sporty tracksuit bottomed types with generic/matching haircuts. Perhaps we're bored. We kiss; or rather we play at kissing. No, I kiss, and she plays, pulling away with a smile that means to be teasing. Our hands slide under layers of winter clothing. I am intent; she is too, intent at playing. The ticket inspector winks at our intertwined limbs. The game resumes. She stalls, giggles, teases. By now I have lost all sense of humour and only yearn for a frantic fuck - here, anywhere, who cares about the spotty guys five seats away from us, they’re asleep anyway, shut up, come here, hey, come here, why are you stopping? The train pulls into Victoria station hours after midnight and the last tube. On the night bus to her south London home, she falls asleep. As her head rests on my shoulder, I peer out for clues, I don’t know where we are but we can’t miss the stop. It was a game, I tell myself. Soon I will understand that this game is all she is capable of. Those two hours on the train were the most erotic/terrifying we ever had together.

4. It looks like it might snow tonight.