I’ve been feeling tired enough to stop driving on my way home lately. The first time I stopped at the rest area just east of Stansted, rolled a fag and had a stroll. Behind me the chumbawumba wagon was chugging away, discharging cooking oiley fumes and the smell of cheap burgers. Suddenly it looked like an inviting haven of tranquility. I went in.
Medium sized caravan with serving bar at one end. Counter top tables along both sides and some chairs.
Paul O’Grady on the TV and the Sun newspaper scattered around … I don’t do either! But, with a greasy sausage in a bun, and a cup of tea stirred with a tannin-black spoon, it was wonderful!! The A120 screaming past outside seemed a world away.
I read the paper and listened to the TV with one ear. I thoroughly enjoyed the greasy sausage-in-a-bun and the cup of tea in the polystyrene cup. I spent about half an hour in there. It was like exiting reality, or stepping off the planet for a breather.
I rolled another fag before I left and went outside and smoked it.
I stopped at the same place the next day. But this time I was tired enough to sleep when I got there. I locked the doors and went to sleep for just over an hour.
The building stress of the upcoming month and everything involved with shutting the office down has made me knackered by the end of the day. Tanya phoned Shelagh and told her, she was so concerned …. what a lovely friend. She said she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if something happened to me parked up in a lay-by.
The upshot of that was the talk I subsequently had with Shelagh ………