Monday, 19 November 2012

On The Train Home

He's getting a new front door. Thank God!

The train is a sanctuary.

A blind man's guide dog, wet with rain, wears a label saying please don't distract me - I am working. The ticket man tickles his/her chin each time he passes.

Still, the train is a sanctuary, and warm too after waiting half an hour for a delayed train on a cold and windy platform, in preference to a hard and smelly waiting room full of tense people whose train is delayed. I have warmed up now, but it's taken hours to get through to my bones.

Yes, I am home, which is the best sanctuary of all. London brought blessings and trials both. Learning, connection and brightness, also panic, sleeplessness and exhaustion.

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