A selection of parking places … 

Copenhagen 

And Wolverhampton both with views over rooftop places .. I guess it is easy to point out which is which? If only down to the surrounding  buildings .Mid day at one and not for the other ..
Still think it would be good to orchestrate a car game in a car park . Al black cars swop  with a white all reds in a row ! 


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Parking and waiting

It may be a generational thing, as I’m not sure this happens so much now …. does it? Men waiting in cars in shop car parks while the woman does the shop?  Now a days im sure both are pushing the trolley around together.  Don’t know what made me think on that. Possibly  being  in the car awaiting  the allotted rendez-vous time and having so much spare time. Seems a gift 

To sit here with no especial need or requirement. Other than watch the traffic go past. No pedestrians here along the wide pavement  on a road on the outskirts of North London.. . Well is it even London?  Magpie in the tree opposite  a tall lime tree . And four or five learner motor cyclicyclists who have faced back and forth several times now. Traffic is fairly intermittent 

Time available to appreciate the quiet.  But I can hear the motorway just down the road.. almost with a wave sound like the sea.  

But actually I don’t know what’s here at all not my patch  

Double commute

Bright and  early, such a beautiful start to the day. Out of ordinary today as it involves trains. But first to get to the station so car to park and ride or bus, then which bus ?

All choices needed to get to station for at least 730 and pick up ticket. And what a lovely morning.  Luxuriating in the glorious views of tbe frothy white and green verges and hedgerows of early May.   Very light traffic … no one on the toll bridge.

Climbed  out of the car at the park and ride … even though the bus was there I was early enough to be able to take in the area. So few cars and very light traffic meant i could hear the birds and there were plenty announcing their boundaries.  I must confess to feeling quite pleased with myself and the morning.  Rummaged  through the bag for purse to sort out parking.  NO PURSE

No cards . No money.

Back in the car.

Very light traffic  and  even lighter in my direction

Back home . NO PURSE.

remembering the petrol stop yesterday located card in jacket pocket, but no purse.  Back in  car .

Still lightish traffic … no queue at toll bridge (does everyone work at home on a friday?)  Back to car park no listening to birds now

Bus there and waitewaited  for another 5 minutes . Might just make original planned train

Ticket  code on phone  , somewhere,  got ticket just as the planned train drew out!

Missed it.

 

The commute 

The vehicle to get you regularly from one place to another, the space there you inhabit and the space you occupy as transition , for that transistion,just some of the variations I have been considering in little short snaps in these writings 

 I have just been listening to the BBC from our own correspondent program and the account of the visit to the airbase and drone pilots.  Disturbing on so many levels the commute to war. 

One brave soul 

That was me, yesterday afternoon.  I exaggerate. But I was waiting for the bus at around 3:20 in the afternoon. 

It came around the corner with the the ‘SORRY  BUS FULL ‘ heading . Of course at that time I ought to have realised that my journey time would clash with school coming out. Even though the sign was clear, the bus drew alongside the pavement and the driver signalled that there was a single place. 

I was not the only one waiting for the bus , but I had been first in  the line, so I stepped up.  It was difficult to see where or how that single spot was going to be as the school children . You mean space for one brave soul, I commented to the driver,he nodded smiling . 

Oh it was noisy. Such a difference to the early  morning commuting bus journeys.  Laughing , joking and chat. I squeezed into the passage, my back pack and me  jostling for space. The bus had not been going long before a young lad offered me his seat. Yes I was a little surprised and definately grateful. We agreed that we would swop places , but I suggested he should leave the large instrument box at my  feet – not in my way but easily be a problem in the crowded gangway. He was not keen, and I guess it took away some of his gesture if he then left his belongings in the space.

I have to admit I was pleased and surprised with the offer, but I was completely overtaken by the energy in the bus. 

Energy as a tangible physical force caught happily joyful in that homeward bound journey. It seemed to me such a powerful potential, benign at that mome, and on the  outskirts of town, when a large number got off at the same stop, they took the energy with them . It was not just that the individuals had gone but that that physical ‘energy’ as a collective possibility had left. In a way it took the breath out of the bus and my breathing space too.  Strange feeling 

The atmosphere changed, because their places were taken  the primary school children,who  with parents alighted at the stop where most the secondary students got off. 

Each journey, every journey something different, I ‘m pleased the yesterday I was the one brave soul. 

And next …

It is with great sadness that I must announce the departure from the car park.  The car now leaving. … Well actually, left a while ago 

So the routines shift and change. While setting up the [inside] OUTSIDE festival, the paid job the regular place I commute to , got in touch to say the moving date was coming forward  several months and was to be the following week . My return from ‘holiday’ then was to be to different premises . 

Different address needs a different routine And I am still working on that. It is almost that until a new routine is established that I can then stand back and really take in the details of the places.

So, what to do with the car park treasures?  Not all of them have been photographed recorded catalogued , and some I have as photos and not collated  them up together.  Perhaps this is the project to come …  Before the new routes  filter into the plans and upset all the old memories of carpark treasure hunts and finds. 

That great fascinating liminal place .. Oh the number of pictures of it and the immediate surrounds .. The strength of the wind as it blewover the  Tarmac ground , the chatter of the hedge leaves especially in the winter when brittle brown and hanging on despite the cold. That sense of shifting balance that happened to me there , moving between home and work and away again  and between the agricultural and manufacturing industries 

Can a place be a muse?   I think that place must have been mine . If I say goodbye now will the treasure get catalogued or just sit not knowing where it belongs anymore, so I can’t yet sign off , I really feel something needs to come from those things .. I will think on it some more