The last train….. for a while

Oh my gosh! I managed to get a seat, at no extra charge, on the very next train leaving Brussels for London Waterloo. There was no time to shop for sunglasses (did I tell you I lost mine a couple of days ago?) or cigarettes (guess I’ll have to give up again).

I sat in my seat and pulled out the left-over bagueffe, prosciutto, cheese, sun-dried tomato spread and half a bottle of red wine. My picnic, my celebration. Two sour-faced spinsters sat across the aisle looked on with twisted faces, a look of disgust (what? it was 5p.m., and I’m hungry) but I didn’t care. Don’t you know what I’ve done? I wanted to say. Even sitting in a seat facing backwards didn’t bother me. I was going home.

As I gradually got closer to England, it was like a valve was slowly being turned and the panic I’ve been feeling, that’s been building up since “5,” I think, was being released into the atmosphere.

Two days ago I couldn’t wait to get back to England and start taking anti-depressants again. Now I’m not so sure. Today I feel a little differently. Stronger, calmer. I pushed my “frontiers” to the point of collapse, to where I didn’t care if I finished the trip or not. Now maybe I can just find a balancing point. We’ll see.

I really did it, though. I traveled by way of the alphabet through Europe and survived.

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