Paul Schiernecker

Category: Travels

  • Top 10 of 2019.

    I’ve had an incredible year. To think that the Fyre Festival documentary came out this year means it really has been a wild ride. I didn’t have to resort to anything of the sort to make a deal with Evian but here are the ten best things that have happened to me in no real order.

    1. I quit my job.
    I hadn’t been happy with what I had been doing for a long time. The right thing came along and the last seven months have flown by. I feel appreciated and a part of something important where I’m working now and that’s not to be overlooked. If you are dreading the thought of getting up tomorrow and dragging yourself into work then now is the best time to start looking elsewhere.

    2. Spain.
    In January I went to Spain for five days and stayed with my friend Luke. He lives in a van now and has a life that is very different to mine. It was great to see him be so free and to experience hashtag vanlife for a spell.

    3. Costa Rica.
    In April, perfectly timed as I walked away from my job, I went to Costa Rica for three weeks. It was a last-minute booking based on where I could get to and from with the time I had. While there, I met up with a group of other travellers and we got to venture into the mountains, stay in a hut in the jungle and I got to try my hand at white-water rafting, canyoning and zip-lining. I met some amazing people that I’m hoping I will get to see again in 2020.

    4. Paris.
    In August, again on a whim, I got an overnight coach to Paris and spent two days wandering around and feeling very continental indeed. I got drunk in the Jardin du Luxembourg and made friends with an Australian girl who then saved my life.

    5. Iowa.
    In September, I flew to Iowa with my dear friends Darren and Laura, to be part of their continued wedding celebrations. I was welcomed like a member of family and had a wonderful time staying with Monica and Craig. It was close but the $250 cookie recipe nearly made the cut for this countdown.

    6. Copenhagen.
    In October, four of us went away for a long weekend by accident. We had an amazing time and I got to explore a city I had always had fanciful notions about.

    7. New York.
    My other BIG TRIP of the year. I got to live my best Holden Caulfield life in the city that never sleeps with Jaz as my tour guide. I ate my body weight in Dunkin’ Donuts and regret absolutely nothing.

    8. Writing.
    While I haven’t published anything this year, it’s been a strong year of progress. I have written three novels and abandoned a further two as well as constructing a stageplay which I’m hoping will see the light of day in 2020. The big thing was receiving a personal response from one of the top UK agents after submitting my novel, What We Want Most.

    9. Improv.
    Improv is always going to make the list. This year I’ve performed in six shows as part of the Laughter Academy showcases as well as others at other venues. I took on 12 hours of the Improvathon which was so much fun to be a part of. I started co-hosting Improv Jams with Robbie and this has renewed my passion for it. I’m hoping to host more in 2020. I also had a go at stand up again this year after not trusting my feet with it for so long.

    10. Improve.
    I’ve noticed a real difference in myself in the last year. I don’t know if it has come as a result of simply growing older but I certainly spend less of my time worrying about what other people think or “rolodexing” as I always called it, where my mind would flip through varying topics. It goes without saying that my mental health is in a better place than possibly ever before. I also recognise my abilities and limitations in a way I haven’t been able to before. I’m comfortable in my skin and better as a result of all of my experiences. Here’s to 2020.

  • New York – Day Seven

    I woke up and felt the melancholic dread of having to go home. There’s always something that hangs over the final day of any time spend anywhere else. We packed up the last of our things and said goodbye to our cute apartment.

    We dropped our bags at a nearby hotel so we could explore unencumbered and walked back to 2nd Ave to a diner called The Remedy. It certainly was one. I ordered a Californian omelette with toast, potatoes and coffee. Jaz had pancakes with bacon.

    We walked up the Bowery until we joined with 5th Ave and the New York Public Library. The library, like the rest of New York, is famous. You’ll know it from the Sex & The City movie of course. I was excited to have the chance to visit as we had noticed there was a J.D. Salinger exhibition on. For those not in the know, Salinger has been my favourite writer since I was a teenager. A lot of my fanciful notions towards New York can be laid at his feet. I had to visit.
    We weren’t allowed to take bags, coats or phones into the exhibition as it was all privately owned but I can tell you what I saw.


    The exhibition was in a small room with a number of Salinger’s personal affects and letters about the place. Everything I know about the man suggests he would have hated this. I read every slip of paper in the place. After some issues with a title being changed by The New Yorker, Salinger became obsessed with the detail and presentation of his own work and insisted on having the final say on anything. The idea of any of his process or his typewriter or his photos or indeed his eyeglasses being on display would probably make the man balk, but here we are. It wasn’t going to stop me scoffing it all with my greedy little eyes.
    This was followed by an obligatory trip to the gift shop.

    On our walk back I finally found the site where the legendary punk club, CBGB, had once stood. It’s now a fashion boutique but someone has kindly stamped the letters into the concrete outside just to make sure everyone knew they were in the right place.

    The list that the pair of us had prepared ahead of our trip was heaving with suggestions and recommendations. There was no way we could have got through everything we wanted to. The last thing we were able to do was swing into Heaven’s Hot Bagel and spend $7.00 on a bagel with the works.

    We sat in a park and tried to work out how we could ever go back to eating like normal people ever again.
    We collected our bags and with a little effort I hailed a cab for our journey back.

    New York has always been somewhere I wanted to visit. I was lucky to have Jaz with me to explore. The city is loaded with false memories from the music I’ve listened to, the books I’ve read and the films I’ve seen. There is no way to explain just how much the experience lived up to the hype. It’s a harsh place in some ways but has the biggest heart. Wherever I visit becomes my absolute favourite. For now, New York has my heart.

  • New York – Day Six

    I learnt about Thanksgiving through Addams Family Values, which is a fairly solid historical depiction. I was excited to experience my first one in the land of the free and the home of the brave, but first, Dunkin’ Donuts.

    Jaz and I set off early. We had a lot to get done. We got Beyond muffins and ridiculously sweet coffees and took the subway towards 34th St and found a good spot to watch the Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade from. This meant tripping over kids and working out what the floats were supposed to be. After seeing the Green Giant, a Power Ranger and Snoopy, I was cold enough and we walked on in search of other entertainment. We wandered around Times Square, had more coffee and a doughnut and realised that we had an awful lot of time to kill before Thanksgiving dinner.

     

    We walked through Central Park and found a spot which I think was in one of the John Wick films. We stopped on the edge of the lake and I thought of Catcher In The Rye. It was bitterly cold out but the park was busy. Everyone was in good spirits to celebrate whatever it is they are actually celebrating at Thanksgiving. We got a subway to Grand Central station.

    When I was a student I was even more pretentious than I am now. I had a huge black and white print of Grand Central, with the sunlight coming through the crescent windows, up on my wall. It meant a lot to me to suddenly be stood in this incredible marble palace with a full-on New York bustle around me. The lighting was golden and everything was beautifully distant from the grime of the city.

     

    We took a subway all the way up to the Upper East Side and collected some booze for our hosts. It was great to arrive at Ben and Audra’s, not just because it was warm, but also because they were so gracious. Ben’s friends, Chris and Steve, were visiting and the six of us immediately got to a wonderful level of chatter that was only stopped by the delicious food that was served and then the seriousness of the card games we played. Someone kept my wine glass full and then shots of Limoncello saw me off. We left late and rode the subway all the way back to the Lower Easty Side.

    We collapsed into bed and I fell into a drunken slumber.

  • New York – Day Four

    On Tuesday I got to live out a dream I’ve had for most of my life. I got to have what she’s having.

    When I was twelve, my best friend was a girl called Amy. My grandpa told me that “men and women could never really be friends because sex got in the way”. When I looked disgusted, he told me about When Harry Met Sally and a new love was born. It’s also worth recommending that this conversation never takes place across two generations again.

    The famous scene, where we all got to see Meg Ryan’s O-face, took place in Katz Deli. They do sandwiches that are so thick that they would believe Boris Johnson. We split a sandwich and got some latkes and sat at THE TABLE. This, aside from the birth of my niece, is probably the most beautiful moment of my life. I cried at both events. It was without a doubt the best sandwich I’ve ever eaten. I can’t explain how good it was but I would do terrible, terrible things for another one.

    Worried that I would never feel hungry again, we walked to Greenwich Village and found the exterior of the Friends apartment. It was only as we stood outside that I realised there was no way the apartment itself had such a layout if it was in that building. I had been royally stiffed by Rachel and Monica (chance would be a fine thing).

    We found the Ghostbuster Firehouse on our walk to the Brooklyn Bridge. We were having a day of modern cultural relevance.

    The bridge is supposed to be an amazing experience but, like most things, is ruined by the people who wander about on it aimlessly, taking bad selfies and having zero awareness of the space they are taking up. By the time we got across I wanted to kick them all in the river.

    We walked through Brooklyn and found a cool coffee shop before arguing over the direction we were going in and heading back to Williamsburg. We had booked in for the Brooklyn Brewery tour but were there about three hours early so wandered the streets and looked in shops ahead of our tour time.

    The Brooklyn Brewery Tour is definitely worth doing (I found out later that it is free on a Saturday). You get four tasters along the way and learn about how the biggest independent brewery in the world works. It made me appreciate my booze all the more.

    Back on the island, I left Jaz to sleep through Friends repeats while I headed to a bar to meet my friend Noah who was playing a show. It was great to see him perform and to catch up but by the time I got back to our apartment, I was dead on my feet and happy to fall down on the bed.

  • New York – Day Three

    On Monday, we picked up breakfast in Dunkin’ Donuts and took the subway to the financial district. We visited the 9/11 Memorial but I had little interest in visiting the museum (because, you know, grief porn). The sky was a beautiful blue after the cold and wet of the day before so it made sense to get out on the river. We got tickets to visit Liberty and Ellis Islands and queued up for security checks before queueing up to get on the boat. I became fascinated by accents while we were away and invented an American character who would sometimes talk to Jaz, repeating phrases I had heard. I’m sure it was desperately annoying.

    The ride out was beautiful. The water was calm and the brisk wind woke me up. We pulled in around the front of the Statue of Liberty and I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Is there anything else as recognisable? We visited the small museum. For a country that’s so new, they really dig their own history.

    We walked around the statue, had a good look at it and that was it. A sweep through the gift shop, which confirmed that I hate buying tourist tat, and then we were back on the boat to come back on ourselves to Ellis Island.

    This was the site where immigrants were processed upon arriving in the States. The museum had a lot to offer and I was overwhelmed by the stories about people giving up everything for the chance of a new life in a new land. They wouldn’t have known anything about where they were heading but they were hopeful it would provide a new opportunity for them and their families. As I watched a bunch of millennial idiots eff around with the exhibits and pay over $10 for the “Immigrant Menu” in the canteen, I couldn’t help but wonder where it had all gone so wrong.

    Once we were back on the boat and I had calmed down, I told Jaz how I felt about what we had seen. She said she could tell because I had grown unusually quiet, a sign that I was feeling feelings.

    We got a train to Williamsburg and wandered around. We had made plans to meet friends at the Nitehawk Cinema but were characteristically early so wandered around the market stalls and bespoke shops. We got dinner at the cinema where we saw Jojo Rabbit, ahead of it’s UK release. It was great to catch up with Carey and Sarah, albeit briefly. Then we returned to our apartment to watch more Friends.

  • New York – Day Two

    When we woke up on Sunday, the sky was grey and rain was falling on the fire escape. I put on my giant orange coat to explore. We got the Subway to Times Square and wandered around, wasting time before our matinee show, To Kill A Mockingbird.

    While debating whether we were hungry, we wandered into an old-style diner called Juniors to get coffee and maybe a slice of cake. After looking through the menu I found myself ordering a half-pounder hot dog and fries to go with my coffee.
    I discovered that half a pound is approximately the same dimensions as my forearm. I filled the hot dog with sauerkraut and salsa and cut it across the middle so I could at least hold it in two hands. Jaz had a turkey sandwich with fries.

    We followed this up by sharing a slice of the richest strawberry cheesecake I have ever tasted.

    We went to the Shubert Theatre and collected our tickets for the show. We were surrounded by old Jewish couples who were debating the merits of the show without apparently having given much foresight to seeing it in the first place. I was excited. Mockingbird was one of the first books to really hit me as a teenager and show me what literature could do. Atticus Finch is the reason I studied law for fucks sake, it’s got a lot to answer for.

    Without giving too much away (as I have since learnt that the same stage play is moving to the West End with Rhys Ifans in the lead), I was absolutely won over by the production. Ed Harris was a compelling and homely Atticus Finch and the narration from young Scout, Dill and Jem was beautiful. It was unflinching and Aaron Sorkin’s script allows for some moments of comedy in the midst of the morality and drama.

    After the show, we trekked up a couple of blocks to meet my friend Ben, and his wife Audra, for a drink. I hadn’t seen Ben since, (we think) 2012, when he left London to move to Grenada. I have Ben to thank for starting this blog.
    In Grenada, he met Audra and the pair moved to California, where her family are from. Earlier this year they upped sticks again and live on the Upper East Side. It was great to see Ben again and to meet Audra. They very sweetly invited us to Thanksgiving dinner, which was a plus as we assumed we would be scrapping around Chinatown in search of food.

    We left them and walked back to Times Square before getting greasy pizza slices which were bigger than our heads. We scoffed them on the street while listening to a trumpet player before getting the Subway back to our ends.
    We hacked into our host’s Netflix account and watched Friends until we fell asleep.

  • New York – Day One

    We got a yellow cab from JFK and towards Manhattan – already a very American sentence. I was experiencing sensory overload following the flight and all of this new stuff wasn’t helping. We were both wiped out so the journey was made in near-silence. It was only as the taxi pulled up outside our apartment that Jaz and I were able to grasp at any conversation. We paid the driver and dragged our suitcases up three flights of stairs, a hallway that smelt of cigarettes and oily food.

    Our apartment faced a car park but had the old fire escape ladder you see in all New York-based anything. I dragged the metal shutter across and opened the window to climb out.
    ‘I don’t think you should do that,’ Jaz said. I closed the window and we went out for the day to stop ourselves from getting hit by jet lag. We walked from our apartment on the Lower East side, up Bowery to Astor Place and through to Times Square. I couldn’t believe how big everything was. It all looked so familiar because my head is full of American cultural references. I thought of Sal Paradise being dropped off after his drive from Denver. I saw the Rockin’ New Years Eve Ball ready to drop.

    We walked from Times Square to Central Park where the first thing I noticed was the pathway where the Sticky Bandits had been picked up by the police. We found the carousel which I’m really hoping is the same one that would have been there for a fictional Holden Caulfield in the 1950s. We sat and watched families go around in circles as old music played.

    We found Strawberry Fields where the Imagine mosaic is. There was an old Rasta playing Beatles covers on a guitar. We sat and listened while watching everyone line up to have a photo taken with the logo before walking off again. The Dakota Apartments, where Lennon lived with Sean and Yoko until his death in 1980, overlook the park.

    We walked back to Times Square/Broadway and queued to get into Ellen’s Stardust Diner, where the waiting staff are all trained musical performers waiting for their turn to get into Broadway productions. They sing while you eat. It’s kitsch and a lot of the songs weren’t for me but the experience was worth it. It was also a good opportunity for me to break from my usual vegetarian ways via a Reuben sandwich which I had with waffle fries and a Diet Coke. Jaz had a cheesesteak sandwich. After the Grease megamix, we hit the road again.

    We found Radio City and booked our tickets to go to the top of the Rockefeller Centre. We had to wait an hour for our slot so watched ice skaters under the lights of the scaffolding around the Christmas tree.

    I didn’t realise that SNL was recorded inside the Rockefeller Centre until we were queued to go in. It was a Saturday night. I wondered if we would spot the celebrity host or any of the amazing comics featured in their cast. We took a lift up 86 floors to the Top of the Rock where I was immediately hit by my jetlag.

    I was amazed by the views, especially over towards Central Park where there was a great vacuum of light. We came down again, bought passes for the Subway ($36 for the week) and headed back to the Lower East Side for a well-deserved sleep.

  • New York – Day Five

    Wednesdays are for the International House of Pancakes (IHOP), a mecca I have only been fortunate enough to frequent once before. Imagine a Little Chef on acid, with chicken and waffles.

    We lost our shit over the menu. I had eggs, sausage and waffles. Jaz had sausages, potatoes, bacon, eggs and pancakes. I did what I could to help her finish because I’m a good and selfless person. We had as much coffee as we could drink and then rolled ourselves out to 2nd Avenue to walk to The Strand Bookstore.

    I’ve visited a lot of bookshops in my time but there is something wonderful about the Strand. I don’t know if it is how well organised the shelves are or the vast array of Kurt Vonnegut books I easily found but it is something special. I found a cheap copy of Even Cowgirls Get The Blues, which I have wanted to read for a long time.

    We walked to Chelsea and through the market which was a vast, gentrified maze of bespoke candle shops and bakeries. We took the High Line, an abandoned tram line that runs above the city and is filled with gardens and artwork.

    We got the Subway to the American Museum of Natural History (which I know as the Night At The Museum museum). We saw a lot of dinosaurs and got to experience the immersive planetarium experience narrated by Neil deGrasse Tyson. If you ever want to feel powerfully insignificant then it is recommended.

    When we were coming out afterwards, we noticed Thanksgiving Parade floats and balloons being prepped on a side road. We fought against a murder of buggies (the collective term) to check out Spongebob before walking through Central Park until we found a hot dog vendor.

    Debating what to do with our evening, the weather decided for us. Raindrops the size of pretzels fell and we rushed back to the Subway to jet down to the Lower East Side and the cinema.

    We were finally hungry again so grabbed slices of deep-dish pizza pie from (Lions and Tigers and Squares) before a teary viewing of Honey Boy.

    We walked home, talking about the film and wondering what we could have for breakfast.

  • Iowa

    Three years ago, I was enduring work when the new American guy on our team, Darren, asked if I would go for a pint and talk about writing. I am always up for conversations about writing but I couldn’t work out what he actually wanted. I was suspicious of his motives. It turned out he was after a little guy I like to call friendship.

    A year and a half ago, Darren made me attend a Super Bowl weekend trip with him and his friends. I spent the whole time wondering why anyone cared about the Super Bowl if it wasn’t to watch Justin Timberlake perform the half time show. We got very drunk and played a lot of board games.

    He then started dating someone and told me I had to meet her. I could tell by the spark in his eyes that this was different and special and as soon as the three of us sat down over gin and tonics I realised that Darren and Laura had something special.

    Last year, when he told me he was going to ask her to marry him, I was so happy. I felt like I had been there since the beginning and it was the most natural thing for them to become husband and wife.

    Being the brilliant, bright and organised couple they are, it wasn’t long before invites were sent out. I was asked not just to attend their wedding in London but also the American leg of their wedding party. As a mutual friend of both of them, they asked if I would come to Iowa.

    Knowing that there was nothing I would enjoy more, and that I would never have a better reason to visit the Corn State, I told them I would be absolutely delighted.

    The three of us flew to Iowa together. I cannot put into words the incredible hospitality that I enjoyed while I was there. I stayed with Darren’s mum, Monica, and stepdad, Craig. They could not have been kinder to me. I felt not only like a friend, but that they saw me as family.

    Monica made fresh cookies from a secret recipe while Craig barbecued steak out on their deck.
    Monica poured litres of cold brew coffee to share with me while Craig loaded a cooler onto the bed of his truck to take out to the lake.
    Monica engaged me in deep and interesting conversations. Craig took me out tubing on the lake and made harsh turns so I flipped off into the water. I had the most incredible time and felt very free.

    I also spent more time with Darren and Laura than I ordinarily would. Aside from our Super Bowl weekends and their visit to Southend, our time together was limited to sneaking out of work for coffee and nights out. Unlimited access to their fun, intelligent, wonderful friendship was a gift in itself.

    I also got to see more of Darren’s brother, Carey, and his girlfriend, Sarah, who are so New York cool that I couldn’t help but talk too much in an effort to impress them.
    I spoke to Darren’s father, Dan, who is the reason Darren is as enchanting as he is.

    It was also a chance to get to know Laura’s parents, Peter and Jane.
    Peter spoke with such affection for their daughter that I couldn’t help but be drawn into their wonderful relationship.
    Jane joined me in bouts of binging on margaritas until we were giggling in the corner and drawing suspicious looks from her only daughter.

    I got to try a keg stand (and fell on my face) and mastered beer pong. I played basketball in their suburban driveway. I ate so well that I started working on a plan to refuse to leave their guest room until they learnt to love me. I fell asleep on the floor of the den. I played shuffleboard with Peter. I lost spectacularly at Harry Potter Dobble, but most of all, I got to witness the love between two of my friends and I felt very lucky the entire time.

  • Drunk And Out in London and Paris (and then London again)

    They say that the definition of insanity is repeating the same steps and expecting a different result. Eight years ago I took an overnight coach to Paris with my friend Lucy. The fallout from that horrific journey meant we didn’t speak to each other for several months. We are fine now.
    Knowing how much that trip had destroyed me, I did it again at the weekend.
    I got loaded at a party on the South Bank before remembering I had a coach to catch and rushing over to Victoria Bus Station. I dozed to Dover and let my head drop on a table aboard the ferry. I did the sleepyhead nod for the three hours to Paris and then I was stood on a bridge over the Seine and it was sunny and beautiful and I was free.

    I’m often asked why I choose to go away on my own. I guarantee that the people who ask have never tried it. For such a small gesture, it’s so calming. I walked from Bercy all the way to Shakespeare & Co in the hopes I could stay for the night. They offer accommodation to aspiring writers in exchange for a few hours work in the shop and an auto-biography for their archive.

    It wasn’t to be but I wandered through and acted bohemian. I walked all the way to Tour Eiffel. It was getting on for thirty degrees centigrade, so I decided to climb the 674 steps to the 2nd stage before getting the lift to the “sommet”. Despite not having anyone to deal with, I found everyone around me annoying. I was at the top for maybe five minutes before I felt penned in and realised it had been a mistake. I came back down and wandered off to find a Starbucks. I sat on the curb, thought about smoking and drank something cold and sugary in the name of being basic.

    I walked to Montparnasse and had lunch in Café du Dome, one of Hemingway’s favourite bars, which offered a three-course meal for €48 in his honour. I asked for it before being told they didn’t offer it as a lunch service. I had some great food, a glass of wine and then a double espresso before searching for the other bars Hemingway had frequented. La Rotonde was just across the road so I stopped for “un demi” before wandering up the road in search of La Closerie des Lilas, which looked like it had ideas so far above its station that I daren’t step a foot in the door. I bought a bottle of wine and sat in Le Jardin du Luxembourg until my legs didn’t work and then I stumbled on to another bar.

    As the sun started to go down, I found my way over to Tour Montparnasse and rode up 56 floors and climbed three sets of stairs to the observation deck where I got a beer and watched the sunset, surrounded by couples in love. Nothing improves a sunset quite like day drinking.

    After the sun had disappeared I realised it was about time I did as well and headed down before others had the same idea. I got the train south to Gentilly where my hostel was based. I spoke to the guy on reception about the origins of my name, my lack of desire to go out anywhere that evening and my plans for the following day. I got up to my shared room and fell down on my bunk, dreaming of beautiful people in Breton stripes.

    I awoke early, showered and got dressed. It felt great to be in clean clothes. I took the train up to Notre Dame and smirked at the tourists trying to get a photo at distance because the grounds were fenced off by police and security following the recent fire. I got a black coffee at the Shakespeare & Co cafe and sat outside, watching groups of tourists stop for photos.

    I headed north of the Seine to meet my friend Mika for brunch. He was coincidentally in Paris for the weekend, staying with his friend Marion. I had the most incredible lazy brunch of bread, yoghurt and honey, a charcuterie board, cheese, salad and a chocolate brownie. If there is one thing that makes you appreciate taking your time, it’s a good brunch.

    I left the pair of them to their hangovers and afternoon plans and walked to Musee du Louvre. Despite my various visits in the last twenty years, I had never been inside. I was told it takes three days to see everything. I’m not surprised. I got lost on so many occasions that I couldn’t be sure what I had and hadn’t seen before. I would wander past a marble statue that had become the equivalent of a tree stump and wonder if I was going round in circles. I saw the Mona Lisa, which was an experience in itself. They snake visitors up two escalators and through two rooms before you’re penned into an area for ninety seconds and have to get your photos in. It’s not that the painting itself was disappointing, just that people tend to be. I got a coffee and did some excellent people-watching and then rolled out and over to the Latin Quarter to get some dinner.

    On my way I passed over Le Pont des Arts, ruminating on an old relationship where the pair of us had attached a padlock with our initials to the mesh of the bridge. It was a thing.

    Over time the bridge was weighed down by the number of padlocks pinned to it so they cut the lot free and chucked it all in the Seine. C’est la vie.

    I have a rule when I’m travelling that I don’t have to be vegetarian if it’s going to be a bother. It doesn’t make sense to be vegetarian in France. I’m not going to eat foie gras, but I can’t ignore the allure of escargot. Those little garlicy boys know what is up. I sat with a beer and some snails and my book and felt like I had found the peace of mind I had been waiting for. I didn’t want to escape myself but the series of situations I always seem to find myself in. I didn’t have to consult with anyone or deal with anything. I could just sit and shut the fuck up for a moment and enjoy being in my body and in my book.

    I hired an electric scooter and tore down the bank of the river until I got back to Buchy where I abandoned the scooter outside a cinema  and caught a screening of Hobbs & Shaw, trying to pass the time before my coach home. It was subtitled in French so I was laughing at a different time to everyone else who read the punchlines before they’d been said out loud.
    I then found the least offensive-looking bar in Buchy Village and sat out by the curb, drinking beer and stuffing chips in my face.

    I got to the bus station with time to spare and found over seventy spots for coaches to pull up. I ran down the line, and found where my coach was supposed to be, but everyone shrugged at me when I asked what was going on. Somehow, the coach wasn’t where it was supposed to be or I wasn’t where I was supposed to be. I turned around and noticed a girl wearing a huge backpack who looked a little lost.
    ‘Are you going to London?’ we asked each other at the same time.

    I spent more time with Kayla than with anyone else over the weekend. We sat in the bus stop waiting for an update until one in the morning when a bus finally arrived. My ticket was for a different bus company so we came up with a cunning plan. I would put Kayla’s oversized bag in the hold while she argued our case with the driver. I then told her about my ridiculous plan. I needed to be back in London the following morning because I had to be at work at 9am. I had walked 50,149 steps in two days. I was half-cut.I had nine hours to get home. She laughed at me.

    Somehow there were still two seats on the coach. The driver let us on having only seen Kayla’s ticket. I promised him a drink when we got to the ferry, which I then realised was a bad move for a coach driver. We sat together on the coach and talked about travelling and family and hostels. Kayla had flown over from Brisbane and spent three months in Europe. She was heading to London to housesit for a family friend and was looking forward to understanding what people were saying to her. It was nice to talk to someone and to remember what it was like to be so young and carefree. She had some great stories.

    We sat in the Food Court on the ferry and talked about cage fighting and shots and kids swearing. We slept on the coach intermittently and I woke up to watch Brockley and Camberwell go by before we crossed the mighty Thames and pulled into Victoria.

    I couldn’t believe the difference in temperature as we stepped down off the coach . We said goodbye and I ran down the steps and into the underground. I got the first Circle Line train I could and pretended to listen to music (because my battery was dead) until I got to my office for 08:56, smelling of garlic and coach stations and a love for a city that was not my own.