Train Journeys
I feel like I must have the worst luck in the world when it comes to traveling solo. It's common knowledge among my friends that I am genuinely doomed to bad luck if I am on my own and board any form of public transport. It's quite humourous when I think back to all of the times I've been stuck next to weirdos talking my ear off about niche internet conspiracies, to being in a jam-packed coach while a teenager tries to preach the good word of Jesus to the masses who, in some sort of twisted fallacy are everything his pastor says they are aren't at the same time (ignoring him reinforces his logic that the world needs to be saved, perpetuating the cyclic nature of proselytizing as those around him refuse to listen, making him more God-like in his eyes as he is in the right for believing the religion the masses do not).
Today though, I've only been heckled once about knowing Jesus by a man who gave me a "know Jesus" pamphlet…as if I haven't known Jesus from the day I hit the ground running. I should really start collecting the hand-outs I get by evangelists who see me and assume that I've never step foot inside a church because I have piercings and dress in whatever feels best to me on any given day. This year I've been given a total of four "know Jesus" pamphlets in the streets in two separate languages and three separate countries. I wonder if I can score one when I'm in Honduras in July. The only ones I won't collect are from the Jehovah's Witnesses because they give me the creeps. I still have no idea who Jehovah is or what he witnessed, but it sure as hell isn't anything of tangible value. It's like the Mormons on steroids except there's (slightly) less white people involved.
Anyways, what I'm getting at is that there is a woman adjacent to me on the train who hasn't shut the fuck up for the entire journey and we're on hour 2 of 3. I'm all for people being off their screens in public but Good Lord, she has a book in front of her…please just read it and close your mouth. How does someone have that much to say for such a long period of time? Don't you run out of words? I've had my phone blasting music for the entirety of the journey and I can still manage to catch her yapping when my brain stops tuning her out.
I completed my onboarding appointments with occupational health and recruitment over in Newcastle, and heading back to London. It's hard to believe that a few months ago I was making a similar journey up to Newcastle to attend a conference that fundamentally changed my life for the better. A lot has happened since March, most good, some bad, and a lot in-between, but I'm coming out in a better mood. Perhaps it's related to the lithium supplements I've been in clinical trial for, perhaps it's placebo, perhaps it's the fact that things are improving, I've not a clue. I assume it's the combination of all three of these things, alongside the weather improving and summer rapidly approaching.
I am still awaiting what is to happen in the world of PhDs, as I had my interview with the RVC last Friday. I think it went spectacularly well given the lack of interview questions provided in advance, and the research team were very engaged with what I had to say. Regardless of the outcome I have started to feel seen, even after a total of 126 job and 6 PhD applications.
Bless. The woman is getting off at Stevenage. Silence at last.
The RES conference I attended was extremely rewarding in a variety of different ways. I'm not sure what happened but after I left the renewed sense of hope about my future lingered for a lot longer than I expected. I made peace with the situation I was placed in and bettered myself towards finding a sense of belonging. Both my job at the cat shelter and my job at the cafe are far cries from where I saw myself fitting in, but I've almost seamlessly integrated in a way I've never really before had with a job. Working nonprofit again has reminded me that there are good people out in this world, people who aren't selfish and support those around them. The world of research in the Greater London area is extremely toxic and hierarchical. It's cutthroat, needlessly competitive, and not somewhere I can envision myself fitting into. I don't know why people would want to settle there when all you do is conform to the homogeneity of the world's most "diverse" city.
I think I realised today that the key difference between London and other parts of the UK is that there's an inherent lack of genuine intention. Self expression is almost frowned upon in the city, and any divergence from the norm ensures you're chastised and unable to network. It makes me sick. The people at LSHTM, the people at Pirbright, they shoved down my throat the notion that I was too much and yet too little all at the same time. Coming down from Leicester in 2024 there was such an air of self-confidence that radiated from me, of being so sure of who I am and not letting anyone get in the way of my success. I stuck out like a sore thumb in London, and the elites detected me from the very beginning. They tried to mould me into something that I'm not - a conformist in science, a cog in the machine that produces "world-class research" despite the minimal tangible impact of the communities around them. Those in London push those who stray from the norm to the margins of society. While in Leicester, Newcastle, and Nottingham, the disabled are welcome, present, contributing to the community, they are shuttered away in London.
I think that's the starkest difference I've noticed. I can count on one hand the disabled individuals I've seen in London. Compare that to the dozens I saw in Newcastle freely going about their day (myself included). It was refreshing to see others like myself being treated normally, like everyone else. I felt shameless about my sunflower lanyard and radar key usage. I always come back to the capital with a renewed vigour of being defiant against what others think, but as time goes on I feel myself slowly be pressed into the confines of the city's rigid guidelines on conformity.
The further away I've worked from the centre of London, the more authentic things have become. Sure, Harrow is a far-cry from being a peaceful borough (shout out to the blokes who had a literal sausage barbecue outside the clinical waste bin of the shelter...I hope you had fun knowing Giardia and ringworm were rampant in the plastic container you ate your sausage on). But there is this sense that it is much more acceptable to be transparent, honest, and blunt. It's okay to be yourself, communicate in the ways that work for you, and stay true to your core beliefs.
My new job starts in August. Between then and now I will have traveled through three more countries, lived in another, and returned to the UK with more insect bites than I can currently fathom and a slightly more working-order ability to communicate in Spanish (though that last point I am still apprehensive of). I have no idea what to expect and am quite frankly a little scared about what is to come. But I rest in the knowledge that things always work out how they're intended to. I will be fine, everything will be fine. I'll come out the other end with another set of stories for the books.
I know a lot of people say that their life could be put into a movie, television show, or into a book, but with the amount of stuff that's already happened in my short time on earth is enough to fill an encyclopaedia. If I ever get the chance to retire, maybe I'll wind up writing a memoir that only I will read.
Until next time...
Leave a comment
Komments