Sarffend

Easter Bank Holiday I travelled down the M1 to visit my internet friend Lucy.

I have chatted to Lucy for well over 18 months, and we met last November at Unisons LGBT conference. We hit it off at conference but we were so busy, we didn’t really get much time. So this weekend would be a test to see if we would really get on after a friendship built through the internet. After all, in real life there is no delete or backspace key, so a transition from virtual to actual is not always a given. Trading semi humorous asides through the ether, is all very, but how well do you really get to know someone, when you have to follow every third comment with “lol” to make sure they know you’re joking (btw I never use these text diminutions!) and happiness is indicated by a colon, hyphen and close brackets. I was excited about spending the weekend with her, but at the same time a touch nervous. I can be annoying after 10 minutes, so 3 days of incessant prattling chirpyness, broken by bouts of whining self pity would be a test for anyone.

My route down read like a greatest hits of motorway congestion, so I allowed myself plenty of time. M6 past Birmingham > M1 southbound > M25 Clockwise (or anti, not quite sure). I would pass those exotic sounding service stations, Hilton Park, Newport Pagnall, Toddington and South Mimms. A suprisingly jam free journey was only spoiled by some horrid billboards visible from the M25 proclaiming “Britain is a Christian Country”. Apparently this is the Christian Party’s response to the BNPs use of Jesus on a poster. The misguided and the maladjusted arguing over who an imaginary friend loves best (bald men and comb etc). I can’t help thinking that Britain would be a much more christian country, if it wasn’t for all the Christians!

I arrived in Southend at 5ish, after a brief stop at another huge Tesco to buy some wine for my hostess. Not being a heavy drinker (a heavy non drinker is more apt), I have no idea about wine. It all tastes like vinegar to me. So how to select a good bottle. I didn’t know Red or White so I chose Rose and my second criteria was which bottle had the most money knocked off. I ended up with a £4.99 (down from £7.99) New Zealand Rose made from some grapes. See, I’m almost an expert. As a rule I don’t usually drink alcohol. Not for any good reason other than I just don’t like the taste that much. As this was a special occasion I thought I ought not to be a pooper, so I went crazy and bought myself 2 Baccardi Breezers. With my tolerance for alcohol as low as a limbo dancer who has been steamrollered, who knows what could happen with an alcopop crazed Stokie in the house (err nothing much really it turned out)

Not owning a SatNav I was relying on half remembered Googlemap directions. As a navigation method this was completely successful right up to the point I got lost. I eventually found my destination through a mix of educated guessing, dumb luck and an eventually phone call to Lucy.

Lucy has a lovely immaculate flat,  and i could almost hear it’s fabric groan as I entered. Hugs over, and my clutter transferred from car to front room, we settled in for a night of pizza and parlez. Well, I thought I could talk, but Lucy is certainly a match for me. She is also as much of a geek as me  so much of the talk revolved around a shared love of Sci Fi TV series and a mutual excitement at the upcoming Star Trek revival. Shaun as Scotty and Sylar as Spock, genius! We talked and talked till our heads were flopping. Talking to Lucy felt so easy and we traded tales from from the road, until our heads were dropping. I became very apparent that there were two guests in the house, and that the real owner was Smudge the cat. Smudge is a verging on the spherical mass of cuteness. With an air of superiority he paced around the house, occasionally pausing by either of the guests to demand some attention, which of course he got every time. He was so confident and gentle, in stark contrast to my Gammo’s, nervous mewing and constant arm shagging

After a wine and Breezer reinforced sleep, Saturday was to be our trip to the big city (No not Stoke!). Train and a Saturday disrupted tube eventually put us in a drizzly Camden Market. I haven’t been there for 10 years and I’d forgotten what a bustling, vibrant, wonderfully mad place it is. While the rest of London was unusually subdued under this drabbest of April skies, Camden shrugged it off and was a bustling cacophany on noise and colour (although with the highest Goth quotient in Europe it was mainly black). Lucy was like a guided missile swooping on some absolutely fabulous outfits, to match her fabulous figure. Every item lifted off the rack was met with a haggling charmer, ready to knock off a fiver for a quick sale . As for me, I enjoyed a day free of clothes shopping stress. No beating myself up over the cost of an impulse buy. No two-ing and fro-ing over which item ill fitted me least. The liberation from being half a dozen sizes bigger than any of the clothes on sale, let me enjoy people watching to its fullest.

We managed to get back to Southend just in time for the Time Lord, despite the best attempts of London Transport to thwart us at every juncture. Highlight of the night’s telly had to be the stunning rendition of “I dreamed a dream” from Les Miz, by the middle aged Scottish lady, Susan Boyle on Britain’s Got Talent who immediately silenced the 4,000 cynics that made up the baying audience, from the moment the first note left her lips.

Sundays weather was a distinct improvement on Saturdays feeble effort. Time to find the sea, after all in Stoke I live just about as far from the seaside as its possible to find. After a tour of Southend’s one way streets, cul de sacs and carparks, we found ourselves at the eastern end of the long seafront. The sea would still have to wait  for a moment longer, as we had hunger to abate, and being on diet holiday, I was able to snaffle away a rather fine sausage and mash. I was so relaxing to sit on the sea wall with Lucy, just letting troubles ebb away with the tide. Lucy is such great company, and to have someone with whom I share such a common life history is both a comfort and joy. I of course cannot rely on memories alone so out came my camera. I really wanted a snap of the two of us, so I set my camera on self timer and sat it on the sea wall. After directing Lucy to her mark on the beach, the plan was to squat to focus the camera on Lucy before I had 10 seconds to vault the sea wall, sprint to Lucy’s side, compose, pose and then smile. The plan worked really well. My vault had the grace of a lame Hippo and I landed on the sand with a “thickening sud”. My sprint turned out to be a 10 yard stumble arms a flailing, and by the time I reached Luce I was nearly on my knees. I grabbed her to my side and almost collapsed laughing, certain that I had missed the snap moment. A kindly lady passing by witnessed my pantomime and with a huge smile offered to take a photo for us. When I checked the pictures afterwards my chaotic first attempt had turned the best and for once in a photo I am actually smiling. In fact we both are and I have to say its one of my favourite pictures ever, and a fitting reminder of a weekend to treasure.

It was soon time to head back north to civilisation and as the  nighttimes' motorway drive morphed into a steady blurring stream of oncoming headlights and cats eyes, I kept my mind alert by thoughts of the next visit to my Southend Friend.

A friendship that was now cemented as strong as that blasted seawall.

 

         

Sea Gazing

Adendum…Lucy has just succumbed to the way of the blog http://lululastresort.blogspot.com check it out