Today I went to Newport, drank way too much tea and got drenched and signed up to a charity I can’t afford.
I made friends with a homeless man, friends with two pretty elderly women and made a friend on the train home.
With the help of my beautiful family I (they) paid £140 to travel to Newport and get my new passport within 4 hours. Probably one of the most stressful days of my life, but because of this, Berlin’s on Monday!
I got off the train and had no idea where I was going, my phone had died and so the only method of directing I had was to ask people.
Alone, I began playing I-spy a sober man, eye-spy a girl wearing anything but McKenzie and it proved much harder than I expected. I started off actually feeling completely intimidated by the place and felt like I had a sign above my head; ‘I’m not from round here’.
I also didn’t mention it was absolutely pissing it down the whole time, I went the wrong way over the bridge and continued for half an hour and I was in a fur coat. You can imagine how clammy and flustered and heavy I was.
Within 2 hours I had found my way around to Timpson’s for photos and the post office for forms then found a little independent café down a little street. I ate the pengest chicken, read my book and chatted to two beautiful elderly women who preached about ‘their day’ and what it was like ‘back then’.
I stopped to chat to a desperate looking lady stood at a charity post and she asked if I would be interested in listening to what the organisation ‘CLIC‘ do with funding. We chatted about prevention, our opinions on cannabis oil and how I was suspicious of some charities ‘looking for a cure’. She explained that CLIC pay for families to live in homes, around the UK, with their ill child. CLIC support families suffering from childrens cancer so I signed up to pay £2.02 per month. They don’t receive any government funding and rely solely on people like us.
A bit later after browsing Primark and walking through loads of vast shopping malls a homeless man stopped me and asked for change. I was in a rush so apologised and hurried off feeling really, really guilty.
Continuing my adventure I spotted the man again, on his bike, riding through town and with nothing else to do, I followed where his bike went and came to a stop as he started setting up camp in a new door way. I bought him a coffee and had the most fulfilling, half-hour conversation I have ever had. He told me about his degree, his daughters and his art. He had a beautiful soft welsh accent and I couldn’t help but wonder where he would be now if it weren’t for the unfortunate series of events he called his life. But there’s only so much you can do.
The sun lifted and it felt like it was because of us. A conversation of enlightenment. Obviously it was the clouds but it felt satisfying.
I carried on my adventures alone, and was greeted and passed with the most warm smiles and softest ‘hellos’.
Under the sunlight, the water glistened and the marble-esque pavements reflected heat into my eyes.
I left Newport content and started off for the train station to make my way home. When I spotted some ‘95’s on a girl nearby wearing red and black leggings, and looking creative. I sat next to her on something she’d assumed as a bench and she then commented on my trainers. We sat together on the train and chatted about conspiracies, the corrupt government, feminism and hip-hop. Her name was Olivia and we exchanged numbers.
Good one Newport, you won me over.