Once I said “I want to go somewhere”
And my listener asked me where
“Anywhere” I said
“Anywhere different, I don’t care”
“Why” she said, “you’re settled here”.

But I like travelling restlessly from here to there.

I remember journeys when very small, from grandparents’ to home at night. Past London suburb shops still open and lit to the cosy darkness of our Berkshire home; with just the cosy domestic lights and blinds pulled down. The wondering, wondering – all those unknowable lives behind the curtains and doors –

And childhood holidays, down torturous Cornish lanes, crawling like crippled ants towards the coast. The plunge of green hill to the glittering blue. for the one who first sees the sea:
“It’s me! It’s me!”

And then moving away, travelling by night on blankets and toys, waking to find our new Welsh home curled low: guarded by trees and surrounded by ranging mountains like sleeping giants.

And to and from college and evening drives to film the moon dissolving into the sea. And to and from friends…I never want travelling days to end.
Yes I’m settled here – but sometimes I just want to be somewhere else.walk in the woods_edited-2

One thought on “Travelling

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