Words and Pictures

By Arja

Southbound. South. Bound.

Was thinking on the train when I took this blip that I’m southbound in more ways than one.

Bound for it, always slightly (and sometimes outright) down-heartedly, when we race down through the borderlands.

Bound to it, happily and willingly, through marriage and his family.

Bound by it, ever so slightly resentfully, by our (but especially his) not very transferable jobs. Though really we count ourselves lucky to have work we love.

In other news I’ve a Scotch egg for my tea and a pack of Tunnock’s caramel logs so I’m frikkin delighted.

I still prefer being Northbound though.

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