Plymouth Ho.

This is a story, mind you one without drama. As a story, the narrative is far from linear. It is actually rather wibbly-wobbly. So now that we have left London, let's go to Plymouth. Let's go back to Friday. This is a day for me. A day to return to a place that still feels like home, and to a friend who still feels like family. As such, the day itself isn't packed with adventure and stressful itineraries. It starts with coffee and tea, continues with mouth-watering pasties, and slowly finds its way to the aquarium. Plymouth is the home of Britain's national aquarium, a sight that I never managed to see while living here. With a marine biologist at my side, I am allowed to ask inane questions with obvious answers and peer with child-like awe into the glass-walled waters filled with plants, animals, and corals.

The aquarium is a place that I could spend a full day in and still not want to leave. But all good things come to an end, and often lead to other equally good things. These other good things include proper gin&tonic, fish&chips on the harbour, and tea with video games. All these things end too quickly though, and we hurry to get myself on the train back to London.

For the first time in this holiday, a small swell of hurry grows in my throat as I run toward the furthest platform. A random act of kindness is starting to feel like a punishing doom. As I stumble to the side, I mutter apologies and wipe the beads Coke off my sweater. Damnation is my reward for kindness. I have to watch helplessly as the whistle blows and my train putters away. In Plymouth, the rain always comes to greet you on your walk, and as I make my way back to Drake Circus in order to spend a few extra hours with friendly faces, the rain makes for a faithful companion.