2 nd. June.

Saturday June 2 nd.
Friday night had continued to 9.30 p.m. and still I hadn’t begun to pack.
So I eventually went to bed, firstly setting the alarm for midnight.
Upon hearing the alarm,
Straight out of bed into bath.
A few clothes tossed into travelling bag and back to bed all within 40 minutes.
I returned to sleep to be aroused again by an alarm telephone call, which disrupted my shave.

The plan of action was as usual I would tail him all the way to our destination.
If you know the driver of the car in front, and understand his style of driving it is the most relaxing form of motoring to follow that car.
Let him make all the decisions, give warning of need to break, generally follow the leader without having the hassle of worrying too much about what is in front.
Hell you just concentrate on keeping the correct gap, close up when same gap is threatened by one of those lumbering four by fours which thrash the arse out of a sluggish engine in an effort to get past you.

Any unusual brake light action usually indicates presence of sheep ahead.
Thus relieved of so many distractions and responsibilities and having knowledge of the road, I find myself with time to actually look around.
It is 7 a.m.
A three and half hour drive lay ahead, I’m sure you wouldn’t want a description of all or part of the journey, but I will.
First I’ll explain my father hates motorway driving, it’s too boring, he says.
In truth I think it scares the shit out of him at times.
He prefers to take in the scenery so we always take the same set of B roads, which takes a lot of any associated motorway driving.

I have lived in North Yorkshire all my life, living within walking distance of the moors, never far from its beauty.
But I literally saw the moors in a different light that morning. Forgive the pun, if indeed it is one.
To begin with, that morning there seemed to be an ugly grey looking cloud of dense smoke hanging over the heather.
We are used to moor fires in this area so the thought of smoke doesn’t sound far-fetched.
The smoke turned out to be early morning mist, the density of which I’ve never witnessed before.
I looked to the valley to my left and it was full to the summit with the same dense cover.
The view to the right was truly breathtaking.
The heather on the moor top gave way to an apparent winter scene reminiscent of a range of snow capped mountain peaks.
As far as the eye could see, peak upon snowy peak, all fashioned from brilliant white mist!

My attention thus distracted I was fortunate to brake in time to avoid an energetic lamb, which had decided to cross the road to re-join its mother.
Pheasants were everywhere!
I particularly remember on hen bird stood still at the side of the road next to what I presumed was the dead remains of its mate, squashed only inches away from the safety of the heather.
A couple of snipes were out along with several other moorland birds.
Sheep were as usual everywhere alongside the road but most as usual were laid down or stood quietly feeding so becoming less of a danger to the driver.
There was a huge hare which had a lucky escape as it ran out towards my father’s car, realised its mistake almost too late and performed an amazing mid air reversal of direction.
Aerial somersault and returned in direction from whence it had come.

The drive was easy, little traffic encountered along the scenic back roads. We did get stuck briefly behind a large load and a tractor but delay was minimal.

Humber bridge, toll paid and onto bracing Skegness, arriving at 10.30.
Rooms not ready till 12 so called in club for a pint and a double jack D for pain.
Settled my clothes into room, took mental note of mind your head notice on rafter.
And took a walk into town, intending to buy some new clothes.

Whilst walking and remembering all the things I hate about shopping, I managed to convince myself I’d packed sufficient clothing so fuck it.
Called into club for another jack D, I was beginning to hurt by now, the driving and walking beginning to take their toll.

In the club a disabled Down’s syndrome guy asked me to take a photo of him and his friend, I obliged.
I say the guy had Down’s syndrome because of his appearance and overly cheerful outlook.
I looked at him through the lens of the viewfinder and noticed he was also partly paralysed down his left side, explaining his unusual gait.
“He wasn’t dealt a good hand of cards”, I thought to myself, before pushing the shutter button.
I looked around the almost full lounge bar, people, all with their distinctive sets of movements,
Each coping with their disabilities and moving the best they could, carrying on with life and enjoying themselves in this safe environment.
You may be wondering why I’m spending my Sunday morning writing about last Sunday morning spent writing up Saturday and Friday’s entries.
As I continue to log yesterday’s events the reason will become clearer.

I had left the club and was wandering around the shops.
I found a shop selling wall art, something I’ve been considering buying for some time now.
I then cam across some ready sketched canvasses and thought they would be handy to practise on, I then decided to do my own wall art, immediately knew which painting one project would be and bought a big fuck off canvass.

I returned to the hotel and had a much-appreciated lie down before tea at five.

My mother and myself were both knackered so it was agreed another short rest was called for prior to the making of any plans to venture out.
I had sussed out the available entertainment and a single artist with backing tapes seemed to be the best on offer.
I decided to go to sleep.
I tried to relax enough to sleep but the residents next door would foil any attempts by allowing their door to bang shut instead of closing it quietly by using the handle.
I eventually woke up at nine by the sounds from the TV next door I surmised that my parents would probably have gone out by now so ventured outside to the car to have a smoke.
Walking down the stairs I soon realised that the majority of the residents had opted to stay in and the sounds of televisions came from every room.
I sat on the bench outside, noticed the night air was carrying a chill. I smoked my cigarette and tried to ease my aching knee.
The pain decreased for a while but quickly returned as I slowly made my way back up the stairs.

Prior to going for a smoke I’d removed the room key from its oversized attachment and placed it on my own key ring alongside car and house keys.
I put the key in the lock but it refused to turn.
Three times I tried and failed.
Thinking my parents were out, I ventured downstairs to seek assistance from the landlord.
He was obviously busy in his office but he quickly took the keys off me and sped upstairs to my room.
By the time I reached the room he had successfully opened and locked the door several times,
He handed me the key.
I inserted key while he watched and sure enough it went in but once again refused to turn.
“You’ve got the key in upside down”, he informed me,
“All Yale keys operate with serrated edge upwards”,

I hadn’t realised I was expected to suss out the lockmakers’ name and know the idiosyncrasies of his design prior to gaining entry.
I had also held the belief that a key only goes in one way.
I had learnt a lesson, and apologised for keeping mine host from his desperately needed beauty sleep.

I was still in some pain so decided to have a lie down and soon nodded off again despite the noise of the televisions and conversations drifting through the window of the other hotels guest standing outside to have a smoke.

Apparently the landlord and many others had decided to implement a no smoking rule in January, hence the huddles of guest outside on the pavement enjoying a smoke and conversation.

I would have preferred to be able to smoke in my room but rules are rules and as a guest I had to comply.
I woke up again some time after ten, skinned a couple of joints up and went downstairs.
The night chill was even more noticeable so I elected to sit in the car.

Sounds on, seat reclined to a comfortable position, sunroof open to allow chimney for smoke release.
I finished the first joint and decided to chill out listen to sounds and await parent’s return from club, they had obviously walked because the car was parked alongside.
11 p.m. rolled by and I sparked up another J.
I looked through the windows of the lounge at the residents watching television and availing themselves of the late night drinks and snacks made available to all.
11.30 passed and I decided to go for a walk, primarily to seek out my parents and secondly to try out some Velcro fastening trainers presented to me by my father, earlier.

I had slipped them onto my bare feet to come downstairs.
I soon discovered there was a problem with the shoes; the left shoe immediately pissed me off by riding up and down and chafing my ankle.
Obviously I didn’t walk too far.
I was just thinking of returning to the hotel when I saw something move on the pavement ahead of me.
Was it a squirrel, perhaps?
It was heading towards me so I stood stock-still.
Could it be a big rat? I considered.
Turned out to be a hedgehog travelling at some speed towards me.

He stopped at my feet, sniffed the obstacle for a while and continued on his way, hugging the garden wall as he went.
Unfortunately for him the wall had pillars built every few feet.
The animal charged along stopping only as it collided with some force into each and every pillar, which jutted out half a brick.
I watched as it reached the end of the wall and turned out of sight, obviously intent upon a good night’s foraging.
I returned to the hotel to find myself locked out.
I glanced at the keypad and vague memories about being told to remember a security code drifted across my mind.

Luckily there was still someone in the lounge and they let me in whilst giving me a lecture about security codes.
I entered the lounge as the late night forecast was giving predictions for the next day.
Suitable armed with such information the residents decided on masse it was time to hit the sack.
I made myself a hot chocolate and took a seat on the firm but comfortable sofa.
The last of the guest handed me the two remotes and I swiftly switched all off.

A few minutes later by design the wall lights automatically switch off followed a few minutes later by the remaining two table lamps.
The room is left in pleasant gloom lit only by the entering rays from the hall light.
The seemingly unnecessarily loud pendulum clock now takes centre stage.
I found myself in relaxing surroundings.
The drink was pleasant so I decided to sit till midnight then return to bed for a hopefully good sleep.

I heard strange noises and for a while I was convinced there was a mouse in the room, possibly inside the very sofa I was sitting on.
Possible gnawing sounds followed by what could have been scurrying of a tiny rodents feet along timber.

I was feeling quite mellow by now and was feeling chuffed at being able to relax and ease the pain.
The idea of me being sat listening to a rodent going about its nightly business tickled me and I cursed myself for not bringing pen and paper.
I was nicely stoned and in the mood to write.
I returned to bed.
As I closed my now weary eyes I realised sleep was not going to be an easy option.
Lines of type ticker taped their way across the front of my mind.
I was in writing mood but wrong time, wrong place.
I also had some rocks in my eyes.
Anyone who crumbles dope regularly and wears contact lens will know how easy it is to transfer rocks into eyes.
I lay for a while and tried to concentrate on stopping the flood of text.
My main concern being that when type is presented like this it is usually flagged as having been dealt with when in fact it is only in the mind and hasn’t been written down,
Thus lost forever.
Annoying if an unusual train of thought provides apparent reams of copy.
All to be forgotten.

I decided it was time to take action, so out of bed.
Lenses extracted and placed in solution, a Zyprexa taken hopefully strengthening the chance of a good sleep.
I was rewarded with 8 hours solid relaxing sleep.