#it's don't swallow the cap hours lads

[lessonincanvases]

everything i love is on the table everything i love is out to sea

#still stuck on this #it's don't swallow the cap hours lads #alex talks

[darkhorse-javert]

Hazy Summer, Shadowed Days

@flashfictionfridayofficial- Canon complient musings from and about Andrew Foyle post war

Hastings June 1945

He slipped down the stairs in the bright summer moonlight, keeping his feet light. Shouldn't wake Dad, not his problem I'm awake at a god-forsaken hour of the night. He pulls his dressinggown closer around himself, skin cold with nightchill even in the warm air of the summer, pads across the hall and curls into the armchair by the unlit fire, seeking comfort in the familiarity of the moment. But the empty grate stared back at him, hollow, bare a shadow of it's normal self. Bit like me really. 26 years old, and what have I got from it? Five long years flying with the RAF, but my eyes are crocked, so that's out for a job, could never stand being a groundbased teacher even if they'd have me, Debden proved that.

Two-thirds of an Oxford degree in English, could finish that I suppose, I've got the papers, but I'm not the merry young lad who bounced into the Quads all those years ago, can't see myself going back there, with all those who are young enough, even if they had enough places.

Scraps and litter of poetry, all based around war-life and flying, but they wouldn't sell- we all want, need to move on from that, I don't want to be one of those Glory Days Warhorses that were a joke in stories. Who would buy them anyway? I'm sure there were better poets than my efforts who were already published

Might have to go in for an office job- as I said to Sam - but when I flinch at a phone, that's going to be a joke and a half for anyone I'm working with. And what skills have I got to offer them that another man hasn't.

Sam- the thought was a slap across the face, his glib words to her of weeks ago 'I'm going to work on you Sam', ah Hell, what have I got to offer her, such a smart, diligent girl as she is, she's found a job of sorts, as well as helping Dad. If I made a go of it, kept up the freindship and we got to something more I'd be sponging off her even as a friend. And if we got married, what a dream that was, would her empoyer even keep her on? Unlikely.

No, Sam was doing far better off on her own, not with me dragging her down like a stone, an old figure in a young skin, scraping around for what I can get, nothing to get it with. Can't even fish well.

"Andrew?"

He turns, Dad a soft dark figure in the doorway,

"Sorry, couldn't sleep."

"Mmm", Dad walks softly across, and perches on the end of the sofa nearest to Andrew.

"I wrote a poem, just before I came home," Andrew, looking back at the empty fireplace finds the words flying desperatly from his tongue 'talked about 'Summer Haze', and 'Uncertain Days' -sounds truely poetic doesn't it? But it's more like trying to walk on thick sand, everything slipping about under your feet, tumbling you down... What have I got Dad? Except wrecked eyes, and a degree I can't face finishing. And yet I'm not really really broken, thank God, and I'm grateful for that."

He hears his father swallow, then finds an arm slipping around his shoulders, tugging him insistantly close.

"Give yourself a chance, Andrew, ask around. Give yourself time."

But- but his mind says what if my time has gone, and I'm a lost fossil before I'm even thirty. And I don't want to have to go cap-in-hand to the RAF or SSAFA, leaning on others, Grammer School and Scholarship boy that I was. I should be able to do something.

#introspection #andrew foyle #never trust your mind after 9pm #if having a bad day dump on a character #It WORKS #:D

[jsbsam]

The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry (Robbie Burns)

I think I explained that I'd organised a direct bus journey from Puno in Peru to La Paz in Bolivia that would start at 5.30am and arrive in La Paz at 12.30pm (La Paz is 1 hour ahead of Puno).

Everything started so well. We were up early, bags packed and down in reception by 4.35am. The bashed up taxi arrived at 4.40am and we were at the bus station at 4.50am waiting for the kiosk to open at 5.00am, which it did.

This was the point when things started to go awry. The young chap at the kiosk, with the help of Mr Google, explained that there was no bus at 5.30am, it was at 7.00am! Not only that but the direct bus was full and he was putting us on a different bus that would take us to Cococabana where the company officials would then transfer us to another bus onwards to La Paz. "don't worry, the buses run every 30 minutes and you'll still be in La Paz by 12.30". Although skeptical there was nothing that I could do, but I was bloody annoyed to see the 7.00am direct bus to La Paz leave the station whilst we loaded our bags onto the Cococabana bus. Anyway, off we went and hoped for the best although I struggled to get our P250 forms completed and saved to my phone for the Bolivian immigration people. Life was so much easier when you just filled in forms with a pen!

After about 3.5hours we reached the Peru/Bolivian border and everything went quite smoothly with the bus staff shepherding all their passengers through the various inspection points. Once through we all got back on the bus and off we went, or so we thought. The bus stopped after about half a mile and then started to reverse back towards the border. Sure enough a French couple had decided to do their own thing and had not got back on the bus when told so we all had to go back to get them. They weren't popular as they took their seats. We weren't the only ones who had been misled about the 5.30 direct trip and the atmosphere wasn't great. It didn't improve when about 15 minutes later the bus pulled up in Cococabana on the side of the road next to a little office. We were asked to get off the bus and to speak to the woman in the office. This company had nothing to do with the company we'd booked our tickets with but eventually we gathered that we were being put onto another bus that would leave at 1.15pm, in about 75 minutes. To say I was loosing my patience is something of an understatement but there was bugger all I could do about it so I went into the town square, got myself a Bolivian sim card and withdrew some boliviano's (I thought that the machine had swallowed my card but that's another story). In the meantime MM had latched onto some poor lad from Guildford and was giving him the benefit of her extensive travel experience. When I came back the poor lad looked bewildered so I sent MM off to find a coffee shop and he had a wander down to the lakeside to relax!

At about 1.30pm we eventually left Cococabana in a much less comfortable bus than the one on which we'd arrived. We'd just settled into the journey when once again the bus stopped and we were all asked to get off, go to a little kiosk, pay 2 boliviano's each and take a small boat across a narrow stretch of lake Titicaca whilst the bus went over on a raft. Actually it was quite pleasant but completely unexpected. We eventually reached the outskirts of La Paz around 4pm but, due to traffic, didn't get into the bus station until 5.30pm. I have to say that coming into La Paz from the Alto suburb was spectacular. The city is in a bowl, surrounded by mountains (some snow capped) and the buildings hang to the hillside.

We were very happy to get to our hotel but just dropped our bags and headed out to have a quick look round and find something to eat. We found a little restaurant and it had a section for vegetarians on the menu. However, every time MM asked for something they said they didn't have it. So I asked them what they did have and they said "everything except that, that, that....". Strangely that only left one thing that MM could have and I just started laughing. She asked me why and I explained that it reminded me of the 1970's Monty Python spam sketch.

As you can see, despite my careful planning things didn't quite work out as I'd hoped. That's one of the trials and tribulations of back packing and also what makes it so much fun (with hindsight!)