There and back again: A Really Eventful Journey

(This post is being posted on Thursday, but the events detailed within really happened on Monday. Psyyyychadelic.

floooating parenthesis)

So, in order to be back at university for 7:30 in the evening, I got the train at 9:11 in the morning from Malton.


Ok, in my defense, I forgot it takes 30 minutes to get to Malton from Kirkbymoorside. and I forgot how much of a terrible person I am to be around in the morning when I haven’t had much sleep the night before. Which I almost

right this is her flatmate veronica i (back to charli) would just like to say that veronica (flatmate) is absolutelyyyyy wonderfulosti yess you see what i did there ahahahaha you didnt because i did nothing anywayback to normal me

always do, because I’m absolutely terrible at going to bed early when I have to be up the next day. GOOD JOB MITCHELL.

Managed to get myself up on time at 6:30. (aaaaaargh) Managed to eat breakfast like a pro. Thumbs up Managed to make lunch like a pro. (um managed to get my mum to make my lunch…. Thumbs up?) Managed to check my train platform like a pr- wait… cancelled? Cancelled?

My train was cancelled, due to the unfortunate circumstance of a person being ‘struck by a train’. Like they’re trying to make light of the situation or something. I felt sort of guilty that the only reason it affected me at all was because I wanted to catch a train and this meant all the trains going into York on the Newcastle line had been cancelled. But, not to worry, I could always get the later train.

When I got to the station itself, (finally; the train takes 30 minutes to get from Malton to York! It’s one effing stop! blargh) I found the platform easily enough. And then I saw, to my delight, the next train leaving from this platform would not stop until Kings Cross. Brilliant. If it hadn’t been scheduled for 6:55 I might have booked it for myself. I’m not that much of a masochist.

I got myself on the train, stowed my luggage, and settled into a seat with some reading. At which point I discovered that my train had been uncancelled and was leaving on time.

shiiiiiiiiit shitshitshit

What if the ticket-inspector saw me and realised I shouldn’t be there? what if I had to pay him to upgrade my ticket or something? What if he threw me off the train

(in hindsight, my panic was completely unnecessary. He just glanced at my ticket and moved on. He didn’t care in the slightest. phew)

I was a little less incompetent at the tubes this time, I managed to get straight on the train to Egham (literally. I was on it for 20 minutes before it left), and then I even managed to hop on the bus to RHUL. £1, not too shabby.

and then that very same afternoon I was booking tickets to go back to Yorkshire. I guess I’m just a glutton for train journeys.


Moving In: Kirkbymoorside

Of course, this post is going up four days after the events contained therein, but I’m much too lazy to change everything to past tense so I’ll just leave it like this. I wrote it last Sunday, if you’re interested in the precise dates things happened. Obviously by now there has been internet.

I think I drew the short end of the moving straw, because I’ve managed to wrangle two lots of moving house in the same week. Basically. A Sunday-Sunday week, rather than the usual Monday-Monday week. In essence, too much moving house.

The drive up to Kirkbymoorside was made extremely exciting for two reasons.

  1. The satnav kept trying to direct us South at every available opportunity, including some where no opportunity to turn existed.
  2. The car was leaking a) smoke and b) oil, which added enjoyment to the trip. Fortunately this was because my dad forgot to put the lid back on the oil after he refilled it, although I can’t work out if I’d rather it were because the car was completely broken than because of silly human error.
  3. It’s an elderly car. The road into Kirkby involves an exciting, windy, steep, windy road. I have it on good authority that that turn was even harder than some of the turns up the mountains near Nice.

That’s three reasons. My bad.

photo (4)

Sitting in the living room, drinking tea out of an owl mug and talking about four hour car-journeys, one thought occurred to me; if we only had furniture, I could be sitting on a sofa right now.

photo (6)

My bedroom is on the top floor. I’m pretty impressed by the removal men, who appear to have become overexcited and brought me my brother’s bedside table as well as mine.

photo (5)

Another enjoyable task was the removal of two spiders from my en-suite bathroom. I’m not scared of spiders. Really. But even I pause at removing a living spider from its, frankly rather impressive, web. It was made even more fun by the fact that one of the spiders was dead, but still attached to the web. The fun doubled when I realised the hinge for my window was halfway down the glass and it opened horizontally.

Once that onerous task had been completed and my all-important brown fluffy dressing gown had been located, it was time to hit the pub and gorge ourselves on food. (Yeah, I know I didn’t mention anyone else, but my mum, dad, and brother were there too. They ate food. It happens) There’s nothing like a full roast lunch and white chocolate and malteser cheesecake on a cold summer’s (?) day, particularly if you can then follow that up with an afternoon spent doing very little unpacking boxes.

And, as it turns out, the internet-person isn’t coming until Monday Tuesday, so I’ll have to live for two whole days without internet. I don’t know how I’m going to survive it, if I’m honest. Wish me luck!