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Uncertain weather

July 22, 2017

Polaroid of the view across LA Trout stood in front of a white Ford Mustang

Whenever I catch myself complaining about the confusion the weather causes (the mornings spent staring between the weather report and my wardrobe, the layers I peel off and throw back on, and the frustration that all of this has become) I stop myself and remember that it was this confusion that saved me the night that I was mugged, that stopped it from turning into even more of a disaster. It stopped at the point that I fell, and allowed me to run to the safety of my home with my hands stuffed into my pockets, grabbing for my keys and phone, and the iPod waiting for me gently, for the moment I would be happy to shut myself off from the world again.

It was that morning in April that I felt it was still time to wear my big winter coat, with the deep pockets and woolly exterior, and not a light jacket. I hopped on a tube and immediately regretted this decision – berating myself for not giving the sun a chance. If I had though, I wouldn’t have been stood shaking with the police, telling them I was fine, that I could go home, that my flatmate would return soon. If I hadn’t been so afraid of the cold that morning, I’m sure I would have ended up sleeping at a neighbours house, unable to cancel any of my cards, feeling unwelcome and intruding and restless. Instead I had been able to go home and hang that heavy winter coat up, thankful that the weather had changed everything for me. I was still restless, but I was resting, and sometimes both are equally as restorative.

These two polaroids are from a trip we took in 2012, and we’re planning another road trip in the next couple of months – one that will start in Texas, but probably won’t include a Ford Mustang (although I’m sure they will try and appeal to our inner tourist and offer a reasonably priced upgrade). If you have any road trip suggestions, I would love to hear them.

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