What Happens in Glastonbury

Getting home

I decided going to Toronto was probably not my brightest idea. Instead, I packed my bags and headed home to Glastonbury for Christmas. I was excited to see my sister Mollie. Mollie worked as a nurse in Bristol, my parents were proud of her, she had a proper job (again, my Dad's actual words) but it meant she worked long hours and a lot of night shifts so just Face Timing her was difficult and needed to be scheduled like 3 weeks in advance, so we didn't get to talk much. We were really close before I left for Uni, she was only 14 months older than me, so we'd grown up like twins and when I moved to London 6 months ago, she was pretty mad with me for separating us, I wasn't sure if it was the distance that had come between us or Mollie's resentment towards me for leaving, but I knew our relationship had become strained since I moved. I just hoped being together again would fix things, I hoped it would be as if I had never left and we'd just pick up where we left off.

But that was absolutely not what happened!

I got to Bristol Temple Meads train station and said Goodbye to Jee as she boarded a different onward train down to Devon. Mollie was picking me up.

After an hour of waiting, I realised she wasn't coming, and it was the first time in my life my sister had let me down.

Fuck it! Now I was going to have to attempt to figure out which onward train I needed to get closer to home and how to buy a train ticket! There was little to no chance of me getting on the right train. I knew that much. So, I googled where the furthest train went from Bristol, so I could mentally prepare myself to end up in somewhere like The Netherlands by teatime!

Why do they make trains so fucking confusing! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Why aren't I a normal adult that's capable of doing normal adult things? I said to myself whilst attempting to kick a disgusting seagull away that had taken a liking to my shoe –

"Fuck off you asshole cunt bird I'm having a fucking breakdown, go and play on the tracks!" I muttered, quietly, forgetting I had headphones on so everyone on the platform looked at me unintentionally yelling at a seagull. Parents glared at me in disgust, covering their kids ears and leading them away from me for my use of the 'C' word. I didn't mean to, I forgot I had headphones in alright! Cut me some slack I'm having a fucking breakdown here! I mean in hindsight, calling the bird a cunt might have been just a tiny bit extreme and obviously I didn't actually kick it away, that would be mean, even though they're disgusting and annoying and a bloody nuisance, but I just scared it. With my foot-ish.

But anyway, everyone on the platform hated me and I was stuck there. probably for the rest of my life! I'll just have to be homeless and live here on the floor, my mind had given up already and was already adjusting to our new life on the streets of Bristol, I say streets loosely as I knew I'd be too scared to leave the train station, so I'd be a train station homeless person.

I thought about what I should do next. Two options entered my brain, well three if you count the fact that I was already mid-mental-plan on how to kill all the seagulls.

So, option 1, call Zoe, In London, not a lot of help from there but perhaps she could book me a ticket online or tell me which train I need to get on

And option 2, call Jesse...... in Toronto! I wasn't entirely sure how that was going to help my situation, but it was an option, nonetheless.

Guess which one I went for.

"Hey" I said

"Olly, hey, how are you?" He answered

Yep, that's right, I called Jesse, Jesse who I've known for 5 minutes, Jesse who is most likely a serial killer or a rapist. Jesse who had gone home for Christmas and home was in TORONTO!! that's in Canada, like thousands of miles away. He'll be helpful in this situation my stupid head told me, living in Canada, he will definitely know the inner workings of the British countryside rail procedure.