Last week I had a package delivered. Rather unsurprisingly this happened while I was at work. And while my housemates were at work. So what was the poor beleaguered delivery man to do but slip a little card through the door telling me that we’d need to pick it up from the depot. Naturally, there were complications. The main complication being that the depot in question was six and a bit miles away in the industrialised wastelands that surround the city where I live like they do so many others. What ensued was a frantic search to find a way to get there within five days before they invoked “return to sender”. To make matters worse this was all occurring across the four-day Easter mega-weekend, scratching two possible days I could collect it. What with the depot being closed and its occupants rather inconsiderately taking the day off. Most people might have been content to wait, but not I. I wanted that package. I wanted that package bad.
I eventually found a convenient bus route that would get me there reasonably quickly. What ensued was an odyssey of confusion as I become a stranger in a strange land. Being of an overly dramatic persuasion I chronicled my not so epic journey on twitter. But I could never be content with a simple “I’m on a bus”, for that is really quite dull. It also pales in comparison to the seminal “I’m on a boat”. Since I had very little better to do I tried to imbue it with the feel of a tale of a Victorian exploration diary. This however rapidly descended into something more akin to a Lovecraftian horror.
For posterity, and for those who missed the original tweet barrage, I have decided to collect the tweets here on my meagre blog. Enjoy!
I am heading off on an arduous quest to find the mysterious far off parcel depot.
I have met the vessel that shall convey me on my journey. Now to plough the roadways of Nottingham, into the heart of darkness.
We make good time. We have just passed the Queen’s grand cathedral of health. I have also gained a wavy haired companion.
He is quiet and unassuming. I feel we will become fast friends.
Tragedy has struck. Our fledgling friendship is struck down! He has been swallowed by the wilds. I regret now that we never exchanged a word
The surrounding landscape has become strange and alien. I am filled with a deep sense of disquiet.
I remain the only passenger on this vessel. The window of my cabin rattles alarmingly as we travel. Perhaps it is an ill omen…
I have now been joined by a mysterious old lady. After the loss of my last companion I fear to gain another. I must finish this alone.
I also fear she may be some arcane harbinger of misfortune.
My enchanted map is not responding, nor highlighting my location. I am truly lost. I dearly hope the pilot can steer us true…
Green fields and horses? It is a pleasant sight on my long and tiring journey.
We have just entered Mornington Crescent. I fear I may no longer be in our fair, corporeal realm.
Our progress has stalled. Are we being held in place by some malign elder evil?
The captain assures me that it us because we are running ahead of schedule and must wait for our allotted departure time.
A garrulous spinster in pink has joined our small party.
Both she, and her tethered fur beast ‘Toby’ has alighted from our vessel to a cacophony of ominous barks.
The captain informs me that she can take me no further. I must complete the rest of my journey on foot.
I can only hope that the depot holds what I seek. This may be my last communique, wish me luck. Lord knows I shall have need of it.
I have wrested the artefact I sought from the hands of its keepers. I make haste for the nearest berth and passage home.
My supplies are exhausted. I can only hope that the vessel arrives before I succumb to the madness of the sun.
I have boarded the vessel home. A different captain has the helm. I fear the previous captain has been devoured by road-monsters.
(Road-monsters being like sea-monsters, but living on, or in, roads.)
There are three very old travellers aboard with me. Part of me fears this new captain is Charon, and I am on the ferry of the Styx.
But my journey has robbed me of horror and care. I am weary and I must rest.
I have passed a strange building. It is like unto a Viking long-hall but wrought of brick and mortar.
We are now returning to familiar lands. The sight comforts my tattered soul.
I find myself hunting for glimpses and signs of my lost companion. His loss still saddens me.
But it is best that he was taken. He would not have coped with the many trials I have faced since.
This captain informs me that we are running well ahead if schedule. I must salute the skill of these brave plyers of the great road-sea.
I fear the captain may be too devil-may-care, he has just hurtled past a red stop lamp.
I have reached journey’s end. I shall fortify myself with tea and report my findings to the Royal Society.