So here we are on the train, it’s 10.23 PM and one realises immediately that away from the small town security of Penzance there is the real world and the nutter percentage increases the larger the population. Right now with a relatively empty carriage, someone chose to sit in the seat next to us, there’s a couple in front of him, so much for social distancing. There are so many empty seats but they chose to sit right here. Why would you do that? There’s also some pissed (drunk in American) unmasked wide boy running around the train screaming, it’s the unpredictability of someone like this, whether they carry on in their own world attracting attention but ultimately ignoring everyone or whether they pick on some random character to hassle. So we are back in the world, the excitement of travelling and the reality of its dangers.

Waking up today led to immediate full throttle. Although catching a train at 5.44 PM is much better than 11.44 AM. I had to go and collect my last sad pasty, Olivia had to send off all the Handwritten & Illustrated Lyrics, Mystery Boxes, prints and debut MOAT albums which incidentally we sold out of in England and now Olivia’s dad will send us the German stock we have of a box and a bit to Portugal so you can still get one (autographed if you want) but we have to get them first. I had to get down to the now open O2 shop (lockdown ended today) to talk to them about my fraud situation. I know the man there (Josh), he couldn’t do much, the scam squad has to get in touch…but still, they haven’t and they are sending me jiffy bags to return the phone I don’t have even though I’ve told them twice and now three times and now I will be in another country and I’m in the middle of travelling there…aggghhh!

Dare arrived earlyish, he was taking us to the station but first, he took a load of rubbish to the dump, the old broken water heater, the old broken door lock, a broken plate and a broken cup, a broken frame, the old dish rack, two pairs of broken swimming goggles, old batteries, two bags of general recycling and some broken cardboard boxes that were the wrong shape to be useful for anything. When he got back he was going to start mixing one of Ahad’s songs but the computer wouldn’t turn on so he took it to the repair shop (Apple Crumble). Fingers crossed, it’s old but there didn’t seem to be too much of a panic. After we’d made sandwiches, defrosted the fridge, packed the bags, weighed them, emptied the dehumidifiers, Dare drove us to the station. When will we be back? A good question.

So now it’s 11.18 PM, we just passed Swindon (said Hi to Andy Partridge) and Didcot Parkway and are now on the last leg leaving Reading (Hi to The Sundays), next stop London Paddington. We also said Hello to Massive Attack in Bristol and Peter Hammill in Bath. Next, an eight-hour wait through the night for our flight to Porto. At least one part of the journey is nearly over. The man sitting next to us is still there but the nutter seems to have gone quiet. Outside the window it’s pitch black with the reflection of the seats and our masked faces staring back at us, is it even us? Now and again a town goes by, earlier in the journey, you could see the beginnings of Christmas lights and the odd Christmas tree in a window. The glaring lights of the carriage seem designed to make you nervous and as the train sways from side to side on its last run into the city, we’re ready to alight – I always liked that word. I’m signing off with 20 minutes to go.

So, the adventure continues. We get off the Penzance train and see the Heathrow Express sitting on a platform, we run to buy tickets, £33 (discounted because of our railcard) only to find out that the last train left half an hour ago and the next train is in five and a half hours. The station is semi-outdoors, nothing is open, it’s cold, the waiting room is closed. The shops open 5 minutes after the 5.25 AM train leaves for Heathrow – brilliant coordination, only the best minds could have decided that was the best plan. A picture next to Isambard Kingdom Brunel (who designed Paddington Station and the Clifton Suspension Bridge).

At first, there was no staff at hand but then we found a nice lady who told us there was a 24-hour supermarket, Olivia went there and picked up a couple of things. It was cold, I still had shorts on in December, Australian habits die hard. I went to the toilets to change into my jeans, they were closed, I sneaked in and on my way out a pissed-off guy asked me how I got in, “How’d you think? Through the door”. No power in the station for electronic devices, the lady suggested ask at the toilets – I don’t think so. As we contemplated our dilemma, a man, disturbed, talking to himself, walked amongst the seats. Engineers and construction workers, delivery trucks, station cleaning staff but nothing for the customers. The nice lady told us we could get a train to Hayes & Harlington then from there catch the 140 bus. Really? At first, we thought, no way, but it was cold and after an hour we decided to do it. Olivia went to get tickets, two machines didn’t work. Another £12 quid and £33 quid wasted.

We made it onto the train,15 minutes to our stop. On the train another nutter ducking and weaving, we pretended to be Swedish. Another guy needed 80p he seemed nice but who has cash? When we got off the train there was construction and to get out there were long corridors, boards on either side of the pathway, and mega steps. Major hassle as I have an issue with a muscle in my right side and hauling heavy suitcases up steps is not helping, plus Olivia is not a weight lifter. We struggled to the top of the stairs and just missed the bus. We were crossing the road at the zebra crossing and he waited for us to get to the other side. We signalled we wanted to get on but this wasn’t the bus stop, so he drove on and then a little bit further on he stopped for us and let us on…”Kindness never hurt someone too much”. A lovely, friendly, kind Asian man. He drove us to the Heathrow bus station and I thanked him for his kindness – when you experience it, it really feels like something special.

So now we’re here in the warmth, a few people sitting around, it’s 3.14 AM and our flight is at 8.15 AM. We made it and now we wait. The world is quite different when you dive into it. You never know what’s coming when you venture into unknown territory but every place where you are a stranger someone is a local. People experience the same things differently and we love that unless it’s nasty. So I’d better sign off now so we can get on with waiting and before the computers run out of gas. We will check in a couple of hours before the flight, next stop Porto.

Music today was on my computer (of course), no vinyl here, these vinyl trains are long gone. I listened to The Haunted Man (2012) by Bat For Lashes. The band is fronted by Natasha Khan and this was her third album (of five). I have them all and have difficulty describing her except it’s Indie but that sounds boring and she isn’t. Check her out.

Song Of The Daze