PGL, wilderness

My last blogging date was 31st May.

Between then and now I have moved back to Wetherby from a brief return to 97.

reacquainted with the Wetherby circuit,

registered with more recruitment agencies,

relieved my invalided mother,

returned to walk the dog a lot,

really had a laugh with Stephen Betts twice in York,

drunk a copious amount of grinning cider,

put on a spot of weight and

worked at Royal Ascot in the Pavilion.

But now I am getting the 9:48 am number 99 to Leeds.

I am to pick up the London train to journey to Haslemere in Surrey for what maybe the next summer adventure: chef at PGL Boreatton Park . Hopefully lots of new fun things might happen maybe I can lose the weight I’ve accumulated since I quit Millie’s in March.

Train observation

 

Eastern European girls are so used to the kind of rules from the bad old days of communism that they come to England forgetting to use the rules in our system.


Never come across a more blank but beautiful collective of women. They don’t know how to chill or slob.


I once met a girl working at Kolkovna Celnice, Náměstí Republiky, Prague, who was very very beautiful in that Slavic manor; high cheekbones, finely tall and not an ounce of fat. Although we had never shared any words – her English didn’t exist and my Czech is terrible, we stared at each other until we ended up in each others arms: maybe it was the intrigue of our situation?


As she worked the bar, there was only me there enjoying a Urquell Pivo mid afternoon, circa 2004, it was quiet and this was a spontaneous thing, but very unlike most Czech girls I met in the many times I’ve visited that stunning land. I returned later in the day and air had changed – now I was shy and the bar was crowding.


Oh how I wish I had spoken her language rather than this awful northern grunt. Do I dream of living anywhere else? Peace Square, Vinohrady to enjoy nights of Moravian wine!

Yawning.

On the 11:05 to KX.

Just pulling away from Doncaster station.

Cashews,

water

and Nature’s Plus Source of Life Gold.

Looks like a lovely day. We’ll arrive in London around 13:30, but I must slip through not touching this fantasy?

Even with the recent rain the fields look parched. The usual green is mingled with yellow as the corn matures and in the blank patches of earth there is a dusty light brown.

Gnarly trees dead trees linger like fire burnt fragments of a carboniferous prehistoric conflagration.

Reserved::Reversed (the signs!)

The train filled up between Newark and Grantham and packs to a jam in Peterborough. The air-con now seems to have ceased and the carriage is bordering on uncomfortable. Two hours of the journey gone, we should be hitting the M25 soon! Clammy!

I arrived around 3:30: Haslemere on a lovely summers day, was shown around a delightful camp by Justin(the catering manager). We detoured to my room for the evening.

I was walked to the accommodation block:

temporary and horrible

cargo containers

baking like lizards

in the mid afternoon sun.

Smelly, small and forgotten: far from the living ‘Live Children’ crowd…

…I am now flying through

buzzing

overheating

conducting

substations en route to

Reading, Birmingham, Shrewsbury

Another PGL that has been promised to have better accommodation.

Currently I’m in an energy sapping Reading station writing for my connection to Shrewsbury. Too warm for no air con on!

Standing too close to the blink of a solar flare.

It is the temperature that words burn up.

Too tired again.

We’re all going to die in this heat.

A cloud can’t come fast enough.

Rain on us. Need to relax.

Before.

The engine rocks turning over and lights go on, finally the heat is abated as we set off(four stops). Insane voices direct instructions to find the correct seating for coach D – someone is out of place.

How many times do you find chewing gum under a seat, play with it briefly contemplating the journey, then stop in shock?

Quick self sustain break

Birmingham: New Street;

Legends of Burger king and Açai juice.

Our train sets off for the last leg to sunny

Shrewsbury: looks like rain now.

I am flagging limply

Dangling supine.

Arrived at final destination: PGL Boreatton Park, which is simply massive; capacity 1450 inc. staff. Never knew such places existed. It was once a manor house, then a correctional facility for unruly boys before its current façade.

Not sure. Nice kitchen, but a bit of desperation too from PGL.

Spoke to the centre manager Anthony.

Needs.

Wants.

What can I offer PGL.

Knowledge desire and ability,

meta-bollocks,

Etc.

OK so I’ve a 3 month contract until end of September. I start Monday. Can I get some funds off job centre for relocation. Cost of travel. Tax credits, etc.  As I’ll be slumming it for 90 odd nights. Doubt it!

Am I alone being convinced that young and impressionable girls are being brainwashed by Close-Up style mags: this week boys by numbers and bridesmaid stories. Natural breasts and mogadonic Alan Carr. Fashion tips and where to spend the Credit Cards!

‘Vipers noses, aphids in aspic…’ sings our trolley wheedling host on the Arriva Trains service to Milford Haven.

I forgot that I had a long weekend of alcohol carnage and today I suffer the long journey, 4 legs, which means I won’t be bothered with alcohol for a little time here at PGL land?

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