On my way to church

Over the last weeks I haven’t been quite happy for multiple reasons but I won’t bother you with that again. And to those whom I brushed off in the past days, I apologise. I shouldn’t have been so harsh on you and I am sorry.

Yesterday I had my regular infusion so for the next days I will be recuperating and be getting back on my feet. And I need to be a little more happy I think.

One thing that always works for me is to look back on parts of my life when I was healthy, young and happy. Memories of a time when I was young and free and the world laid out as a beautiful patchwork in front of me, with numerous colours and places for me to choose from. So today I will tell you about a memory of a time when I used to take the train to church in Cambridge.

At that time I was living in England and I worked as a nursing assistant in a hospital for mentally challenged people in a place called Little Plumstead. One day someone told me there was a nice church in Cambridge and that I might be interested in going there sometime. And so I did. But getting there turned out to be quite an adventure, I had to go on my pushbike to the city, Norwich, and take the train from there and change at Ely. It would take considerable time so I had to get up really early to be in church on time.

And so, on a beautiful sunny Sunday morning I went. The morning sky was still hazy, the sun was up for only half an hour or so. I cycled along country roads with names like Hare Road, Broad Lane and Toad lane, names that triggered my imagination. Yes, in that country I was the sole and proud bicycle rider! And arriving at the train station the smell of Diesel the first thing I noticed. It was a long journey to Cambridge and it took me along the most beautiful places and meadows, a forest and numerous animals. Norfolk cows, birds of prey, foxes, a deer, sheep, cats and dogs. And all along the rail track people in their best clothes going to church, I loved looking at them, however briefly they passed by.

Changing at Ely was a pleasant interjection of the journey, I remember the repeating “Tickets please!” coming from a booth at the entrance side of the platform. And then the last part, on my guard not to miss Cambridge station. In Cambridge on my pushbike again: Station Road, Bateman Street, Fenn Causeway, Northampton Road, Cockcroft Place. Church. Nice people, beautiful hymns, lovely food. All day long.

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