gubster's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Number 47 It�s my job to know all the major train routes around Europe. Everyday I talk to people from all over the world about some of the beautiful destinations to visit in Europe. I can tell you where every (just about) dodgy greyhound station is in the big vast expanse of the USA. I recall some of the amazing stunning places I visited and found hard to leave in New Zealand. I can still see the small log cabin I wanted to spend my life in, in Alaska. Or the amazing ranches with all that air and sky that our beaming red Chevy brought me to in Montana. I lived by Botany Bay with the sound of the ocean putting me off to sleep every night. That shiny healthy city is a dream world to me now, a glimmering city where people can take a ferry to work in the morning and not require a woolly jumper. I can show you some of the more beautiful cycle routes to take around The Netherlands. Where, in spring, your every sense will be assaulted by the vibrant flower fields. Hell I even have my bike chained up crying out for my return, waiting to take me through the cobbled streets and parks of Utrecht. Useless now, without me. Lately I have been in more airports and train stations than I can recall. And although I know it�s the smelly number 47 red double decker bus that took me here I still wonder how...... ..how did I managed to find myself here? 10:23 p.m. - 2008-01-20 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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