I get frustrated when things are unreliable and I depend on them. The National Rail Service, for example, becomes entirely fickle at the drop of a snowflake. It is for this reason that I decided to take a coach home for Christmas. I made my way to the back and sat down, realising at that moment that I had left my jacket hanging on the back of my bedroom door. My earphones were subsequently in front left pocket of the jacket. It was going to be a long and silent journey.
I stared out the window as the driver loaded the rest of the bags outside, admiring a giant comedy penis that had been sculpted on the bonnet of a car across the street. There was at least some entertainment value to snow. The bus driver made his way back up the steps and towards his seat, removing his gloves before turning to all of us.
“Alright ladies and gents? Mornin’. This is the eight-thirty coach service to [final destination here], and we will be stopping at—” he began a list of about ten stops which would span three and a half hours on our cross country journey. Some places I knew, some I had never heard of, and one of the stops was simply “Tesco.” No indication of where this Tesco was, just merely “Tesco.” I was momentarily optimistic that there would be a break to grab a coffee or something with my fellow passengers, but as we drove through the stop at what can only be described as the largest Tesco store I’ve ever seen (it had its own Tesco Extra across the parking lot), the bus didn’t even pause at the stop on account of no one waiting there.
I gazed out the window at the snow, shining in the dawn of the morning. Everything was so silent under the blanket of snow, as if the country had been muffled. I saw people trudging along the pavements of the towns we drove through and made up stories about them in my mind, left only to my own devices without any headphones to drown out the silence of the other passengers. Sometimes I wish there was an off switch to the constant dialogue running in my mind. I can’t imagine that things are actually as important as my thoughts make them out to be.
“What are you thinking about?” I use to ask The Ex when we would be lying in bed together.
He’d raise his eyebrows and shrug, “Nofin.” (That’s my attempt at phonetically writing a Northern accent.)
The thing is, I believed him. And I envied him. Why couldn’t I think of nothing? I’d like some peace and quiet from myself sometimes. Then again, I also believe myself to be my own best company, so it’s a catch twenty-two.
The bus creeped on and I could barely sit still I was so excited. I was returning to the real loves in my life, my family (extended and blood), and of course, my dog. With the drama of Michaelmas culminating as the term came to an end, I was more than eager to skip town. Academic obligations kept me longer than I would have wanted, but as soon as I pressed “Buy” on the National Express website everything seemed about a hundred times as bearable as they had been.
Arguably the most important person in my life is the one whom I’ve had the longest functioning relationship with. She falls under extended family, but really she’s simply my best friend. While I do have predominantly male friends, none of them hold a candle to her. I probably haven’t written about her because I’m so picky about names and I can’t think of one that suits her besides her own. We’ve been through every boyfriend, every breakup, every hookup, but in the end we’re far more interested in each other to bother talking about boys all the time. It’s the closest thing to a bromance any two girls could have.
She texted me two weeks before I was even contemplating when to go home.
Hey, I’ve been thinking about you. Haven’t spoke in awhile, I hope you’re okay. Come home! I miss you! xxx
The ‘thinking about you’ part was out of concern, as the last time we had spoken properly was via email when I told her that Grey had dumped me. She had asked me to call her but I never did because I didn’t want to talk about it. Instead we emailed a bit more and had an unnaturally high level of Facebook activity between us. My new favourite function of Facebook is the “See Friendship” option, it’s like a five-year scrapbook of our friendship. Wall posts of inside jokes that no one else understood. Yeah, we’re those people. I’ve never loved or trusted anyone as much as I do her.
She was the first one I texted when I booked my ticket home.
Yay! Can’t wait! I’m going to camp out at your house until you get here! xxxx
It would not have been odd in the slightest to come home and find her with my family. I frequently go and hang out at her house even if she’s still at uni. Her dad loves to ask me about school and then tell me stories about when he was in school.
The bus could not get me home quick enough and I stared at the clock above the driver’s head, counting down the minutes until I’d be home with family and friends. I texted her, even though I was sure she was still asleep.
On the bus! See you soon! We’ll have a Bucks Fizz party ;) xxxx
Champagne is our drink of choice. My phone buzzed a minute later.
Bought some last night! It’s in my fridge waiting for you :) xxx
I had made it through almost three-quarters of the journey without being disrupted when the bus started to fill up. A man dressed in black and reeking of cigarettes sat next to me, and continued to talk on his mobile for the rest of the trip. I had discovered, to my delight, that my headphones were actually at the bottom of my handbag so I put them in and watched episodes of various tv programmes I had downloaded to my iPhone.
The bus stopped somewhere central to the country and half of the bus got off. Unfortunately, not the man next to me, but I took the opportunity to politely slide past him and move to another seat. The smell of mint and smoke was making me nauseous and I had to move.
With a new sense of personal space and only a lingering hint of cigarettes in the bus I began to think about the fact that this will be the first Christmas that I’ve been single in three years. 2007 was The Boy, 2008 was The Ex, and last year was Pub Boy. 2010 is just me. To be honest, it makes things a lot easier to enjoy. I’m sure my family are more than happy to monopolise my time.
A lot of Christmas songs are about love and what people want and coming home for Christmas, and for the first time in awhile I find myself not romanticising those songs to be about someone, rather just about being home with everyone. Another great thing about being single this time of year is that everyone you’ve ever known in your young life is home and ‘tis the season for hooking up with people who use to be awkward but have grown into hot adults. The people who were popular are still attractive – well, some of them are fat now – but for the most part, catching up with people from your past over some drinks and holiday cheer is always a good time. And I plan to drop the ‘I’ve been dumped’ sympathy card to ensure lots of free drinks at my local. As well as to ensure everyone knows I’m single again. Can’t have the boys being put off by a phantom boyfriend.
My eyes stayed peeled to the bus window as the foreign drive through random towns ended and the familiar drive to my destination began. The bus pulled into my stop and I spotted my parents’ car sitting in the parking lot, steam coming out of the exhaust as they sat waiting for me. The brake lights went on and the steam ceased and I saw my Mum get out of the car and walk towards where the bus would be pulling in.
I was sat on the edge of my seat, pushed forward by my rucksack, which I had put on as soon as the bus began decelerating. As the sound of the door release echoed through the bus I jumped up and queued with everyone else getting off. I jumped off the bus and into my Mum’s arms. We laughed and hugged for a minute, before grabbing my bag and throwing it in the boot.
We drove through my town, chatting and pointing out things that had changed (a new sign here, a different store there), and talking about how much snow there was. As I stared at the lights and decorations illuminating the town, it finally felt like Christmas.
I make no promises that I will post again before Christmas, but I will try my best. Just in case though, Merry Christmas to everyone xxx
PS: Suggestions welcome for what I should name my best friend. Maybe I’ll just come clean to her about the blog and ask her what she wants to be named. That’s risky though, she has a big mouth when she gets drunk and loose lips sink ships, friends.
PPS: Happy Holidays in case you don’t celebrate Christmas xx
Classic Christmas Tune
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