Maybe I am not one of the lucky few who get a happily ever after

It seems the universe in all its infinite wisdom is never tired of fucking with me. Maybe, I don’t know, maybe the Great Writer In The Sky regarded my story as a little “boring” and decided to mix things up a little, but whatever the case, it must be said. A couple of weeks into my being in England, JC decided that getting married might not be for him, after all. I thought it was the wedding plans spooking him, they were flying around pretty rapidly, so I told him it was okay, that we didn’t have to get married in February of 2011 (which was the plan), we could just Wait and See.

 

Hope, dangles on a string,

Like slow spinning redemption,

 

But then, not satisfied with that plot progression, the Writer In The Sky said, “Eh, that’s not enough drama. What else can we do?” and long story, short, I don’t know where my relationship is going as of this very moment. Technically, we are no longer a couple, but also, we have discussed having a one month hiatus from each other, just to figure things out. It hasn’t been an easy time in my life, but you know, all this back-and-forthing, I would just like it to end. Now. Please. I’ve never been a fan of inconsistency, also, I guess I’m more than a little annoyed right now. JC is the love of my life, yes, I love him as much as it is possible to love another human being, but really, I don’t think it’s too much to ask for me to ask for answers.

 

Winding in and winding out,

The shine of which has caught my eye,

 

Yes, I’m not perfect. I don’t operate under that delusion. We’re not perfect people. But I am willing to see this relationship to its bitter end. We have some differences that seem insurmountable. The fact that we live in two different countries, for instance. The fact that getting a work visa to the UK is super super hard, especially for a freelance writer. That is the major problem.

 

And roped me in, so mesmerising,

So hypnotising,

 

 

I hope we figure things out. I want to be with him, but I don’t want an unhappy marriage. Which is where I suppose I’m grateful to him for having the honesty to come forward with his doubts now, and not later.

 

I am captivated,

I am vindicated

 

At twenty eight, break ups don’t involve a night of binge drinking and flirting with every available man. At twenty eight, I closet myself away, avoiding social situations, seeing a few select friends when I want to, but not making any major night-on-the-town plans. At twenty eight, breaking up is both easier and a LOT harder than it ever was before.

 

I am selfish, I am wrong,

I am right, I swear I’m right,

I swear I knew it all along.

 

Back to life, back to reality

Heathrow. Getting my very heavy suitcase to the check-in desk. Being told I was *gasp* SEVENTEEN kilos overweight. Being told it was *heart attack* THIRTY ONE POUNDS per kilo. Hurriedly unpacking and giving JC's mother most of my heavy stuff. Telling the grumpy check-in girl that I'd take the other bag as cabin baggage.

Stopping at duty free, buying a carton of Camel Lights. Rushing to the boarding gate.

Doha. Arabic everywhere. Duty free there is SO much cheaper. Absolut Mango, check. Benson and Hedges Special Filters, check. Trying not to think about JC further away with each step I took, well, not so much. Stepping up to the check in counter. Being told my seat had been changed from 17 K to 11 B. Asked for a window seat, but no luck. Oh well. What difference did it make? Economy is economy.

Boarding. Walking through economy, no seat. Keep walking, keep walking. Through... curtains? Really? OH. MY. GOD. I. AM. IN. BUSINESS. CLASS. They upgraded me! Whey-hey! Steward notices my confused expression. Clocks me as a newbie. Try and make myself look respectable. Accept a glass of champagne and put my feet up. Too bad this flight is only a couple of hours and I'm... so... tiiiiiiiiiired.

The best sleep I have ever had in a plane. The seat goes all the way back and I curl up under my blanket, only to awake when we're circling Bombay. Ah. I don't think I can ever do economy again.

Bombay is instant shedding. Off comes the jacket, the cardigan, the socks. Standing in line at immigration. Realise I have forgotten to fill in the landing form. Sent back to the back of the queue. Make my way to the front again, only to be told pencils are Not Acceptable. Seriously? I almost cry, and they take pity on me and let me stand there and rewrite it.

Baggage claim's a bitch. One line gets broken, the other takes ages. I'm standing amongst people who shove past me. Well, Toto, I guess we're not in the UK anymore.

Home. Upstairs. Flat looks decent but dusty. Cat looks shocked at my appearance. Doesn't let me out of his sight. When I go to the bathroom he stands outside and meows. I guess the fact that cats are perfectly happy with just someone coming in to feed them is a myth. Now, what shall I do with him next time I travel? Oh dear.

Friends are happy to see me. Bandra is much the same, with the addition of a few new places. And, how sad, Bonobo is no more. And Escobar seems to have never existed. Did I really leave? Did my two months end before I noticed? The only lingering signs that I have been anywhere at all are some souveniers and a bad stomach.

The more things change, the more they stay the same.

Cornwall, ahoy!

As I was going to St Ives,

I met a man with seven wives,

Each wife had seven sacks,

Each sack had seven cats,

Each cat had seven kits,

Cats, sacks, kits, wives,

How many were going to St Ives?

Cornwall is too beautiful to put into words. That's where I was this weekend, and oh, it was perfection. In the evenings, I read, and watched TV, with JC besides me and the wind wuthering in the moors. In the daytime, we went to beaches and wandered around cobbled pathways and it is nothing like I had ever seen before. It was also a little odd to be standing on a beach with a coat on! I took LOTS of pictures, so here's a pictorial view of what I did with my weekend.

The lighthouse at St Ives is perhaps the most painted part of this landscape. Especially this little bay. I love lighthouses, they remind me of Kerela when I was young and going to see the big one at Kovalam beach. Also, something about them is unutterably romantic, you know? They summon up images of pirates and smugglers and tales of the sea.

Seagulls are not my favourite bird, by any means. They are rude and loud and yarp at you and scream sad songs while wheeling above your head. But they go here, if you know what I mean. There is no other bird so suited for this landscape than these big old albatrosses. 

 

JC's description of the coast: "Like God took a hammer and smashed up a lot of rocks." I'm not a religious person myself, but the jagged coastline and wildness of it all did make me wish I was a poet. Also, it summoned up images of murder mysteries and love lost or forsaken. Brilliant.

A couple got married in this omnibus, if you peer in the windows, you can see the groom. Now that's my idea of a perfect wedding location, except maybe, not so cold. But that's what champagne is for, eh?

 

Through the window of an art gallery. I LOVE shooting things through windows, I'm not sure why. I think it's the framing and the fact that it's like a little postcard of its own. That's a real fishing dock out there, note the nets, and behind it was the lifeguards museum with a working model of a lifeboat and plaques commemorating people rescued. 

 

All the streets were like this, rustic and harking back to ancient times. I love the slopes of the road, the blue sea in the distance and the fact that even though modern life has come to Cornwall, it lives in such perfect harmony with the olden days. Later that day, we went to the Meadery, an old restaurant serving real Cornish mead, and I'm afraid we all went a bit overboard on the yummy blackberry mead. Ick, my stomach the next day! But, mmmmm, unbelievably delish. Also, surprisingly, had the best Indian food of my entire trip at a tiny little pub that is only frequented by locals, in the middle of nowhere. Life is surprising, sometimes!

 

And someday, I shall get myself a little boat like this one and sail around the world, or just lie on my back on the deck and watch the blue sky above me fade into the greeny blue-ness of the ocean and THAT, my friends, is how I plan to end my days.