Ireland - Scotland: on a ferry on the open sea, savouring the sweet scent of freedom, incredulous about the fact that there is free wi-fi provided and wondering why the guy sitting behind me is whingeing very loudly about the slow connection rate (and in the quiet zone at that), when whingey thoughts start to enter my own head. Who builds a quiet zone next to the movie theatre and in front of the gambling arcade? From my right I hear people shouting, wind instruments blaring at intervals. From behind comes thudding dance music, and an android voice - 'place your bets. Dum dum dum. Name your bets....' The ching ching ching of coins sounds like the opening salvo of the revolution. The revolution of hell. Not quite, but nearly.
Thank God I can fall asleep at the drop of a hat. I like the ferry; it is cheap (less than half the cost of a flight, with a fixed price that can be paid even on the day of travel), scenic (you get to look out at the sea and occasional surrounding mountains), spacious (you can go walkabout and reduce your risk of a DVT) and comfortable. And did I mention cheap? My fixation with cheapness is maybe not a good thing. Taking a 20 hour journey to England from Northern Ireland via Scotland when you could just fly in an hour may signify questionable judgement, like my getting the vaccine against swine flu just because it was free. At least I get to see my brother...
Last time I went to visit my brother (which was also my last impromptu trip), I took the ferry as well, and ended up waiting for him on a park bench for nearly 4 hours, shunned by all and sundry. I include among the sundry the dog which defecated nearby whose owner neglected to clear up after it, leaving a disturbing smell. It was a snowy winter's day and I was too cold to get up from the metal bench to warm another one with my body heat, so I stayed where I was with only a weekend bag and Ray Charles on my MP3 player for comfort. I was far too cold to take my hands out of my pockets and read the book I'd brought for company. I'd never been so happy to see an Afro haired boy in a brown corduroy jacket in my entire life, and jumped up to meet my brother from afar when he finally arrived. 'Don't tell me you've been waiting there like a bag lady for the last four hours', were his first words. I had suspected that it was my apparent homelessness which had led to my universal shunning.
But hark! What is this I see on the horizon? It's the Scottish coast! We are nearly there, already the cleaners are starting to tidy up. The adventure is about to begin...
