If I had one wish, it wouldn’t be a clever or altruistic one. I’d like to say that it would be, but I know myself better than that. If I had one wish, if that genie popped out of that Nutella jar and asked me what is the one thing I would want more than anything else in the whole wide world it would tumble out of my mouth before I could stop it because I have dreamed of it for decades.
My wish would be to own a train car.
Not just any train car: my train car would be magic because it could be hooked up to any train in the world, and it would be completely self-contained: it would have a library, hideaway bed, galley kitchen, observation loft, and of course an aquarium. Why an aquarium? I do not exactly know, but it was in the first designs of the train car when I was a little girl and hasn’t been revised out of them since.
I think about this magic train car, and my wish, every time I board a train. Sometimes while on the train I think I’ll doze off and wake up and be in my magic train car, and the sheer thought of it is enough to keep me smiling for hours.
I hold onto bits of magic like this a little closer when weeks like this one happen, full of loss: friends losing parents, family members losing relatives, much-anticipated plans falling through. And then Sir Terry Pratchett died.
I’m so upset about this last part that I don’t even want to write about it. Some blog, eh?
Amidst all this, there were some bright moments. The Writers’ Bloc meeting in Glasgow was fun and productive, and I met up with two other friends during the week as well.
Week 4 of 12-week wellness programme has not been going so great because I’m horrible at giving up all the foods I’m supposed to give up (hummus, I’m looking at you). However, I have successfully given up white potatoes, no small feat in a country basically made of chips.
Misfit Shine activity points: 5059 out of 7000, compared to 4208 of the week before. Improvement!
O, and I chopped off more of my hair. Rather, I paid someone to do this in a fancy way.
JDB1745 required more than a bit of project management this week, which involved reworking our Trello project board and getting some stuff out of my brain and into Slack. Are you using Slack? I never want to work on a project again without it. Those endless email threads give me the wobbly dread feeling in my gut; I just know things are being missed and there isn’t any way to get them back. Centralising all of it makes me so happy.
The weekend gig was smooth until literally the last two minutes of my last shift, which almost made me miss my bus but I hustled and caught it … except it wasn’t going anywhere because the bus had broken down. That’s the kind of week it has been.
I still haven’t managed to write the last book-club posts, but that’s because I’ve been scribbling notes on an idea I have for an ARG-ish thing. I also started a piece of flash fiction that is turning into a tribute to Terry Pratchett.
I finally renamed the “Hobbies” section. I don’t even know what that word means anyway. But I do love food, and talking about it, so here we go.
Marks & Spencer in Waverley now offers gluten-free sandwiches! This means my train food is not limited to weird crawfish salad with chilli dressing! (Why is that so popular?) I had a chicken sandwich on the train to Glasgow and I was like a normal person and everything. Well, as normal as I get, anyway. Very exciting.
Union of Genius has become my favourite restaurant in Edinburgh. Their soups and salads are delicious (and many are gluten-free), but that isn’t why. They offer something I haven’t seen on a menu before: a “suspended” coffee which is a pre-purchased coffee for someone who cannot afford it. You just add this to your order, pay, and add one to the tally on a small chalkboard. They do this with soup, too.
I think this should be available everywhere, for anything.
Still reading “The Bees”. I’m such a slow reader these days.
My top artists this week:
Season two of “Pushing Daisies” is not as enjoyable as season one.
I’m sorry, but I can’t hear you over the sound of J. Herbin’s 1670 Stormy Grey in my Lamy 2000. What does that sound like, you ask? Nothing, silly! Ink doesn’t make noise. But it’s beautiful.