Mind The Gap

I'm back stateside and really feeling the jetlag, but the whole trip was more than worth it! Mostly this trip was just to take care of wedding details, but how can I not write in England! I mean all my heroes have put ink on the page in this beautiful country.

Ever wonder why writers ALWAYS seem to have a notebook and a pen with them, no matter how inconvenient it might be?!

It's for moments like the one above. The underground (tube) is a world of it's own, with different people, colors, smells and sounds that paint a very specific image. The decor at every tube-stop is different and let me tell you, we saw some pretty crazy art instillation's in some of them. (Seriously check out the link, it was...an experience.) But that uniqueness is what makes the underground such a magical place.

I know, I know...it's public transport, it's crowded, the train can be delayed, but if you stop for just a moment...

...close your eyes and take it all in...

. . .

1 minute the board reads, but I don't need the digital display to know my chariot is on it's way. I can feel the air change as the metal tube travels the maze of the underground.

My hair brushes across my face as the train forces cool air in the tunnel toward us. The smell of mettalic brake dust, grease and an old house fills my nose as the breeze plays with my hair.

Music echoes somewhere up above, the melody filling the tiled station walls as commuters shuffle up and down the stairs. Heavy footsteps on the concrete, the scuff of boots trudging up the stairs is the steady drumbeat of this underground world.

I can feel the rumble of the train in my bones, like a cat purring on my lap. The screech of metal on metal announces it's arrival as red doors, flash by in the blink of an eye.

The train stops, the doors hiss open and a woman's muffled, elegant voice makes it's way out of tiny speakers on each train car,

"Please mind the gap between the train and the platform. This is a Piccadilly line..."

People file out, on their way to see loved ones, off to work, hurrying to a first date, shuffling towards a break up. A dozen stories walk off the train and another dozen get on.

The doors beep in a high pitch, quick staccato and then whoosh closed. The music disappeared, the drumbeat fades away and the train lurches forward, whisking you away to another station, another place, another world within the maze.

. . .

So yeah, that's why we keep a notebook with us. To capture a moment in time and keep it with us forever. All the little details help shape a story, make it feel real and tangible. At least, that's why I always carry a notebook with me.


On a lighter note, I did a thing! Whenever I say that, "I did a thing," my other-half looks at me with deep rooted fear in his eyes because typically, that means I'm about to DIY some crazy project.

He gave me the same look when I turned to him and said, "I think I have to buy the whole set."