#17 - It's Been a While

As I'm writing this 4 hours into a 7 hour Megabus ride and because I've spent the last 3 years basically living on them, I feel it's only appropriate for me to spread my knowledge from the orange dotted blue seats of the M12 Leeds to London.

#1 - Do not sit near the toilet

It only took one ride from Leeds to Newcastle for me to realise that this was a terrible idea and then one ride back to question why I had ever tempted fate.
There is an unspoken rule of coach travel: Do not shit in the loos. But when you gotta go you gotta go. And I'd much rather annoy a couple cuddling asleep on their seat, tired from their exhaustive 45 minute ride to Sheffield than hold in the absolute log for the next two and a half. But the last thing you want to be is sat next to that biological hazard when it departs for the great beyond. Which brings me onto my next toilet tip...

#2 - Handgel, bring it

If you're going to be doing this on the regular, you're going to want to arm yourself with an assortment of various different items to ensure you're not bored or hungry or on the brink of absolute insanity. But a surprisingly useful pro-tip. Alcohol hand gel. The sort you rub off without water and is classified as a chemical weapon by the microbe community. There's probably a 40% chance the toilets will be fully functional on any coach, and the most likely issue is sinks being broken. So rather than rubbing your dirty hands all over your WHSmith meal deal, grab some gel. Which brings me onto my final toilet based tip (swear this wasn't suppose to be a toilet thing)...

#3 - Practice your aiming technique

This is mostly one for the men. A bus driver once told me that all men should sit down, lest they want to start a fight with the coach by headbutting it mid steam because of some overly heavy footed breaking. In reality, I think every man is going to take the concussion over the cold embrace of a £3.67 porcelain thrown.
So here's my tried and tested technique. Take one arm and rest it against the wall in front of you, take your head and rest your body weight on it, hold your mighty sword with the other hand, and squat down as low as to minimise the risk of misfiring and flooding the cubical.

#4 - Practice sleeping every time

If you're doing to be doing this regularly then you should practice your napping technique. The main thing that keeps a 6 hour ride bearable is that you weren't conscious for it. After a few rides you'll get used to the technique. The important thing is when you're next to someone, make sure they seem like the type that won't rob/stab/fondle you whilst you're out. And if they do seem respectable, lean away from them, the last thing you want to do is waking up cuddled to a concerned strangers shoulder, but if you do this regular, that's an inevitability.

#5 - Meet some folk

You're never going to meet these people again, so why not strike up a conversation, it makes the ride infinitely easier to cope with and because you'll never see them again, you can reveal as much intimate or secret shit as you want. I've met psychologists and professors on my travels. Then again, I did meet a man fresh out of prison who seemed quite self assured that the arson charge he was off to defend himself from in court wouldn't send him straight back, so don't be expecting Stephen Fry types every journey.

#6 - Do not fucking Snapchat me

A couple is ok, but we all know what a motorway is. You're not taking a year out to teach poor Vietnamese kids the art of underwater basket weaving whilst spiritually finding yourself in the foothills of the country. You're hungover and coming back from a party Sheffield where you fell off a stage, damaging your hip and lost your t-shirt in a crowd of 300. Let's not kid ourselves, the only thing you've learnt is that a club where you order drinks based on what colour they are is, aside from being a great idea, a fucking terrible idea.
(Sheffield students will know what I'm on about)

#7 - Do it with someone

After travelling the length and breadth of this fine country using nothing but pocket change and eating nothing but Maccies double cheese burgers for 3 years (how I'm underweight is still beyond me), I can assure you that there is nothing that makes a journey more tolerable than doing it with a friend.
This summer, for various reasons, I had to do a night coach and bus from London to Birmingham. Aside from being one of the most tiring journeys I've done so far, I did it with my girlfriend (seen as she'll be a recurring character but I don't use names, she'll be Lei), and it made the trip bearable. I got to my destination (another 6 hour coach) having not slept in 26 hours, but it made it a damn sight easier.

So yeah, that's wasted 45 minutes more of this ride, hopefully some of that can be useful to someone. Or at the very least, a quick laugh to waste a few minutes on the Middlesborough to Manchester slug.

#16 - Ok, so I collapsed again

When I was about 11 I had a box of legos. Massive thing obtained from decades of birthday and christmas gifts. The box wasn't originally mine, it had begun as some generic lego gift to one of my uncles but over time it found its way to me.

It was the beginning of high school and I had no friends. Lunch would be ate with the people who bullied me the least and class was generally spent trying to be invisible. It's not a unique situation for a high school kid to be in but I won't pretend it didn't absolutely suck at the time. Even now at 20 I still have trouble dealing with life because of what happened to me during those five years.

So as a kid with no friends I used to have to make my own entertainment which primarily involved eating packet upon packet of crisps in front of the TV watch re-runs of Friends.

Then one day I decided to pull out this old Lego box, the sort I'd had as a kid and start building. There was no plan, I just built and built, higher and higher, until I had a tower which was almost the size of me (a slightly short 11 year old). I didn't take the thing down for days, it just stay in the middle of my room as I manoeuvred around it.

Then it collapsed. I can't remember if it was myself or the cat or just the intrinsic instability of it. But the thing collapsed and with a load crash it scattered Legos everywhere.

I remember being quite annoyed. But I immediately started rebuilding my tower, taller than before. This cycle of build-repeat-build-repeat went on for a few months until I gave up, packed the legos back in the box, and forgot the whole affair.

This is the best metaphor I have for depression. Something I've been trying to deal with since I was probably about 13 or 14. Depression, or whatever you'd call my issue, sucks. You spend months on end building your life up. I've had people before tell me how impressed they are.

"John" they'd say "how do you do all this stuff and remain so happy?". And then, once your tower has been built, a small perturbation occurs, and it all comes tumbling down. I'm in the midst of one of those.

Although the method may have changed, the idea behind the collapse remains basically the same. Hurt myself. This has come in various forms over the years but the most recent one, the one I'm going through right now, involves a shit tonne of cigarettes and a general decline in cleanliness of myself and my environment (I know, beautiful right).

It happens every month or two months. Not sure I've gone more than 3 without a major collapse. An implosion really. I've drank myself into the floor before now. My housemates don't really understand why I do it and to be fair, neither do I. These destructive episodes usually don't last more than a few days tops but when they're done, I have to start from the bottom. Rebuilding that tower brick by brick.

Because of this I've never held onto friends for more than a couple years. The longest relationship I've ever had ended because of my insecurity. I pushed her and pushed her and eventually she left, and who can blame her. I don't.

I'm both hopeful and fearful of this next rebuild. I've pushed out of my life one of my closest friends, and most of my family. It's just me now. They say no man is an island and I'd agree. We're all ships really. And every so often I decide to push mine out in the middle of the night. Burn my map and throw my ropes into the sea. No anchor, no crew, just me.

A few times someone's rescued me. But not this time. This time it's just me. I'm the boat heading towards the open sea.

There's a storm. And I'm alone.

#15 - I Went To London Last Week

A little late I know but I went to London last week with two friends of mine P and B. The three of us went to go watch The Technically Difficulties, a comedy group.
But first, the travel. We all arrived individually over the course of an hour. P and B got trains from Leeds and Cambridge respectively. And I, I got another damn coach, this time a sleeper coach leaving at 2:45 in the morning.
Why you ask? Because apparently I'm a weird masochist. In total I didn't do too badly, I got about 4 hours sleep in the form of 45 minute segments.
I was the first to arrive at 8am and got myself a Maccy's from Kings Cross whilst I waited for the others.
I learnt two important things about London whilst I waited. It is beautiful, a lot of money has been spent there and it is even more expensive then I thought.
Secondly, the tube is an absolutely horrible form of transport. I hope dearly Leeds never invests in one. They are truly the worst.
Once we'd gathered we headed to the Natural History Museum where we got a photograph with Darwin. Due to time restrictions we went through much faster than I usually do, only skim reading the more interesting exhibits.
In total we probably spent only 3 hours there including lunch (a £3 bag of half cooked chips, 3/10).
Before long we were back across London to watch the show and frankly, it was an incredible show. When it is released online I will definitely link it here.
We chanted Yorkshire, laughed, and generally just had a good time. And before long I was eating my Mystery Biscuit and on a train North to Leeds for a family party.
By the end of the night I was happy, chatty, a little drunk, and positively exhausted. I collapsed on my bed sometime post midnight and slept like a baby. Aside for some travelling, Sunday was a write off for rest.

#14 - First Pride (Leeds Pride 2016)

I'm writing this a tad late, I know, but it is hard to get yourself to write a blog post after spending a long day running after Big Macs. So here it is.
Sunday I went to my first Pride. Leeds Pride specifically. I've been intending to go for several years but unfortunately things kept coming up. This year was my first chance and I took up the opportunity immediately. Travelling to Leeds from Birmingham and back again by coach in a single day.
The atmosphere was intense and I don't think I've ever been around so many accepting people in my life.
My mum was also on one of the parade buses so it was great to see her having fun throughout the festival.
Pride is a big weekend long event in Leeds and, unlike Birmingham Pride, it's a free event. Honestly, I can't wait until next year.
The bit I won't forget however is right when we showed up they were reciting names. The names of the Orlando shooting victims. Something that will for a long time cut deep in the LGBTQ community. However, the host said "This is why we still need an LGBTQ movement."
It was a reminder that we all still have work to do to bring equal rights and remove prejudice, even in a progressive country like the UK there is still a lot to be done.
It was a great day though. Would definitely recommend.
Bring on Leeds Pride 2017.

#13 - Finally Met A Sane Person On The Megabus

That was a bit of a change up I must admit. Last time I wrote on here it was about a crazy person on the Megabus. This time it was the complete opposite.

So I went a-travelling again, this time the Leeds-Sheffield-Birmingham route, (putting me squarely back in The Middle Lands as I'm writting this) and as we came to Sheffield a person sat next to me (whose name I don't think I caught).

They were a Sheffield teacher from Nigeria taking their child on holiday, and frankly a relief from the last person I sat next to. Quite an interesting person, lectured in Nigeria, then moved to the UK where they're now teaching. And best of all, they're teaching a STEM subject which meant that we had more than enough to talk about. We discussed teaching and where we're both from, what we're doing and where we're going, as well as issues in teaching and other areas. It was quite a nice conversation to have.

They were going to Bristol but stopping in Birmingham for a while. By what I gathered they sounded fairly well travelled.

One of the most interesting things I found however, was when she discussed cultural differences between teaching in the UK and teaching in Nigeria. Respect for teachers was a big one as well as other things you wouldn't expect like, greeting teachers in public, something they say is commonplace in Nigeria but not in the UK where there is a mental distancing between students and teachers.

Another thing I found quite interesting is that there are problems she used to have in Nigeria which no longer exist in the UK. For example, there is a larger gang problem in Nigeria and sometimes that would be an issue with students. However, that I assume is a controversial topic I don't intend to delve into because I am by no means equipped with the right knowledge for such a discussion.

But there were issues such as, they had the equipment in many of the universities but the unreliability of the power could prove a problem in certain places.

Anyway, it was a really interesting discussion. One of the highlights however was when she said that she's pleased to be talking to someone because no one in the UK seems to talk to strangers and it's one of the things she misses.

And to be fair, I can agree with her. I have some incredible conversations with strangers but it's getting past this social stigma and frankly the fear we all have, to enable ourselves to have these discussions.

Anyway, just thought I'd share that because I found it particularly interest.

All the best.

#12 - I Spent 3 Hours With A Crazy Person

This happened a few days ago but I've been busy spending time with my girlfriend so you're getting this story now.

This story starts, as all of my stories do this summer, with me travelling by MegaBus, that glorious cross-country barn bus, containing only three types of people: students, last minute travellers short of train money, and the psychologically unstable. The man I am about to describe to you is the latter.

I got on the bus from Birmingham at around 17:00 after coming straight from work, to travel, as usual, back to Leeds. I throw my luggage in the hold and take my backpack onto the bus.

Next to me sits a man, let's call him Frankie (not his real name). Frankie slumps down onto his set, dropping his Sports Direct bag-for-life containing, what I assume, is his stuff. He's dressed in his day-off clothes but hey, I'm not judging, I'm still wearing my Maccy's trousers.

Frankie's beard is moderately long and unkempt, different swirls at different lengths, patchy and inconsistent throughout. His eyes are brown, he looks at me, silent.

I'm not alarmed, this is nothing out of the usual. I begin reading my book, the bus sets off. Five minutes into the ride I hear "It's busy today isn't it." I look up, Frankie has spoken.

At this point I was pleased, he wanted to talk, great! There's nothing that makes a bus ride go faster than talking to someone. I put my book down. "Yeah, hopefully it'll clear up when we're out of the city centre and it'll be a clear motorway ahead" (Ha! How wrong was I!).

Within a few miles I'd learned a lot about Frankie. He'd moved to Birmingham a few months ago, having been around different parts of the country ever since. The man was better unemployment and unemployment. He got updates from a football team he: a) Didn't like, b) Were only an amateur team, and c) Had never played for. Odd, but not yet crazy.

It was when he said, "I've been to court a few times. Mostly just assault and arson."

Oh shit!

So now I wasn't just sitting next to Frankie, the strange Megabus guy. But instead it was Frankie, the mentally unstable arsonist. But even that wasn't the bad part.

After a long discussion on football and how Leicester and Iceland winning were just so ridiculously unforeseen, he began talking about police.

"All police are evil. They all want to kill you." He said.

"I disagree, there are a few bad apples in there but the majority are nice enough," I replied.

"No, if I ever see them hurting someone, I'll take their eyes out with forks." He exclaimed

And thus began an energetic and graphic thirty to forty minute rant on police. A rant that scared me and the surrounding passengers.

How had I got myself in this mess? Listening to a man discuss how exactly he was going to get back at the police who were clearly out to get him. I mean, I've met some crazies in my time but this man, he took the biscuit. All I could think, as he was describing his manner of attack was, 'Dude, chill, it's a six o'clock on the Megabus to Manchester. Take it easy pal.'

I'm not sure how long it took to finish those last fifty miles, all I know was that in that time a lot happened. Children were born, grew up, and died. Policies were altered. Empires rose and fell and rose again from the ashes. Continents shifted to form new continents. The sun swelled, shed its atmosphere, and died.

Needless to say, it was a long time.

But he did get off. And I lived to tell the tale. The tale of Frankie, the crazy guy who apparently lived in my neighbourhood.

Let's hope he never moves back my way.

All the best folks

Additional: I don't feel guilty writing this. The man insulted Leeds. He holds no special place for me.

#11 - I Broke Two Of My Rules

I think everyone has rules they set themselves to try and get by day by day. Brush your teeth, always eat everything on your plate, never fart in bed and pull the duvet covers over your partner's head. Simple things that help ensure you stay a functioning human being. And then, most of us I assume, have additional rules we've gathered over years of experience. Perhaps these rules are subconscious, but they're there. Some of the best I've ever heard are "There are many ways to enter a pool, the ladder is not one of them" and the famous one from Douglas Adams' book Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy "Always have your towel with you".

The first rule I ever made for myself was during High School, and it's served me well over the years, I refer to it as Rule Number 1 and it's similar to the towel idea but evolved independently.

Rule Number 1 - Always carry a pen

It sounds odd, I know, and many people have sought to make sure I knew over the years, "Why are you going back?" they'd ask and I'd reply "I forgot my bloody pen". But it has served me surprisingly well, and it's why it's maintained a five-year long status. Right now it appears I've broken that rule and surely I'll pay.

But yesterday I broke two of my other rules and was reminded why they're rules in the first place. The first, the older of the two, is Always take a morning shower. Sounds obvious, I know, but on Sundays when you've overslept until 10, it's tempting to not take a shower and to lounge around all day in your dressing gown. Of course, that is the wrong thing to do, you'll never get anything done if you do that. So I got dressed, but not washed. I felt grubby and oily. I looked alright, one day without a shower isn't going to be immediately noticeable, but I felt terrible. I reminded myself, over the course of Sunday, why I have taken a shower every morning since I hit adolescence. Bar, of course, the mornings I woke on another person's floor or sofa, with a banging headache and the very real knowledge that I'd probably spent the last night burning the candle at both ends. Never a wise decision. In those times I'm more driven to leave and/or make any required amends promptly, then I am with the state of my scattered hair or my shuddered, alcohol ridden odor.

Of course, last Sunday, I hadn't woke from a night out on the lash, but rather a long shift, and so I did not shower. By midday I regretted it and felt somewhat embarrassed by my not-so-pristine state which led me to break the second, rather newer rule: Whenever possible, especially when alone, leave the house. It's one I've found more and more useful as of late, when I'm living more and more often on my own.

But because I didn't feel quite so up-to-it, I remained inside for almost the whole day, excluding around fifteen minutes in which I went to buy six eggs for 89p from the nearby corner Tescos. 

Bad decision, I spent half the day playing Minecraft. I love video games but I have to restrain myself, if I don't I can easily find myself at half two in the morning, contemplating whether it's tiredness or hunger that's bothering me more.

Additionally, if I don't leave the house, at least for a while, I've found I fall into a pit of despair. I may be shy, but I'm still an extrovert nonetheless. If I'm not around people I get rather bad angst. Better I am in a library, reading or typing by myself, then in my house alone doing it. However much I used to pretend like I was introverted, I'm not, I'm extroverted and it's sometimes just as bad as the former.

Despite all this, I'm glad I broke those rules yesterday. It reminded me why I have them, to avoid myself falling into disrepair. I guess every so often you have to break rules like this to remember truly why you have them, else you just start bending them on your own. And then where would we be, penless, dirty and alone, and no one wants a world like that.