All Aboard Pt 1

‘ My mind has been made up and there’s nothing anybody out there can do about it. Today is the day or rather tomorrow is going to be the day; it’s the one chance I’ve got. My suitcase has been packed and I am ready to go out into the world. Although ‘ready’ might be a big word here as I don’t have the money – at least not a lot -, I lack a plan and I don’t really have any experience either. This, however, is not keeping me from doing what I think I have to do, you see, adventure awaits me out there, as long as I’m in time for tea and biscuits. Of course, Mum could not be bothered with my leaving since she has been too busy of late getting her love life together. Grandma, on the other hand, can’t stop fussing about it since to her I am still that little boy who has yet to have his first kiss and recover from his first broken heart and she thinks I am just not ready for the world or the world is not ready for me. She can’t believe Mum is letting me go on such a dangerous journey all by myself.

‘ Tomorrow I am taking the train to Harwich, the boat to Hook of Holland and from there on the train all the way up to Moscow, Russia. Why Moscow? Why not! Actually, I have no idea. Is it the cheap water also known as vodka? I don’t know. It is just that the city seems to be calling me. Grandma says that if I am hearing voices I should be admitted to a psychiatric ward instead of being allowed to travel the world and maybe help spread this mental illness I have. One day the men in white suits will come and take her away, lock her up in a bright white room with padded walls for she is as nutty as a fruitcake and madder than a hatter at a tea party. I can’t seem to get it through her thick skull that mental illnesses are not contagious rather hereditary and that it might just be so that I inherited some of my quirks from her. I fear for my future self.

‘ The old leather suitcase that I got from a car boot sale not a week ago is already crammed with stuff, yet I am still anxiously walking about the house rummaging the cupboards and wardrobes looking to see if I am really not forgetting anything. Should I find something I’d have somewhat of a problem since it wouldn’t fit in the suitcase anymore anyways, which means I’d have to take an item or two out first. I don’t want to open the suitcase at all, because I already had to sit on it to be able to close it and zip it up and I fear the whole thing might burst open at the most impossible of moments and set my underwear a flying through the air for the world to see. I shouldn’t worry too much about forgetting anything, though; I’ll survive as I have surely packed enough clothes. I have three sets that I can wear in any type of weather, enough socks to last me a week, an extra pair of shoes, a belt, and seven pairs of undershorts. I might have to wear my undies for more than one day, though. Grandma says that she always wears her panties for two days and then turn them inside out, ‘which means,’ she says,’ you can wear your underwear for a grand total of four days in a row and nobody would notice’. I guess this explains the flies and odour around her every now and again. She’s not only loopy, she’s also quite disgusting. I’m hoping to get lucky and be able to do some odd jobs there to earn some money so I can go the cleaners often enough to be able to wear clean clothes every day. I also might want to buy some more jeans and shirts while I’m there.’

To be continued …

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