A day, a great day. Breakfast and an airport. Sky as grey as depression and dampening drops. Electric tracks and beeps, a quick platform change then beach bound. An in sync happening, a vision in mustard and black, Egyptian? Craving the apricot stone elixir, powering down the soft wet sand towards the dilapidated newly renovated hotel against the winds, Gayle. What is amaretto? I am new but i know what salt and vinegar crisps are. Put on the gloves. I make do with blue, indian ear hair being a subtle highlight.
Road replaced sand joining crowds heading towards the flame, not out of choice. Egh. Bah humbug, bah sport. People waving flags, waiting for a pice of history which feels trivial in the making. A young lady from Burma and my gift of a Aung San key chain. How can you take a flame on a plane when you can’t take nail clippers or something to soften the skin? Crowds lining the streets waiting for the fleeting moment. Wanting to see but didn’t, be a part of it but not. Really just standing staring, exposing teeth, rolling eyes stunned by Coca-Cola hell. Gimp’s on microphones and girls shaking pompom’s in a usually beautiful beach town on the north sea, which today felt like America for an hour. A distraction from a country in tatters but in essence a celebratory free event? A promotion of togetherness?
Past the commotion a real treat from Finland. Dosa, Moomins and a heartfelt hour or two. Returning to the start, travelling into the black. Patriotism never being my strong point. Smoke. Vomit. Sleep.