Relocation

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Northallerton

And so, I am in Northallerton. I get off the train and my suitcase falls appart. I manage to carry both suitcases to the taxi station where an only taxi stood. I tell him to take me to Station Hotel. He accepts. In the taxi he tells me that he worked in the business for twelve years and it is the shortest distance he had to drive. In less than a minute I am at the hotel. Two pounds left my fiver and the suitcases are behind the hotel door. So I walk in and see a piano lonely. Turn left and see a victorian bell. I guess it is reception. I go ahead into the empty room. Soon a no-age man appears and takes charge. I say I pay later. He mentionned about the situation for discount. I nod as he speaks, then usual business, he takes me to the first floor.
Suitcases I think...I dare not to think I ll be offered help. He gives me the keys and off he went. I look at the wall and read "An alcoholic is a person who drinks as much as you, but you don't like him" I laugh and pick up the leaflets for the area. Off I wonder into the unknown in the search of a shop to buy matches. I walk and i see a nine year youth standing looking at me. I ask him where the town center is. He replies: 'What?'. I repeat. The football flies near his head. More youth. He than says: 'Oh, lads, do we have a town center?' Then I know I am up for a challenge. I walk for ten. Only a dead bird on the road. And a sign for cycles track. I manage to read the road signs further and realise I am wrong. Go back pass my work place and here it is-the main street (without sounding American). I walk and still no soul only lights... And here is walking towards me-a man. I recognise him, my client from the interview. I don't remember that I need a lighter. The next corner shop open at nine is at the end of the street.
I see it and I feel relief. It is the first time I see so much alcohol in my entire life. I take the dry meat sausage, mars, prawn crackers and the matches. Two fifty gone from the remaining three from the taxi. I eat the sausage looking at the local houses for sale in the window of an agent. And sudden I smell the air. After not smoking for four hours I smell better. Cow shit. I reach out for the matches. In my head I think maybe it is ok, it is healthy. To smoke to lose the smell. I walk to the hotel in thought of where to light it up without attracting attention from the people near the cash points and the windows of the pubs. Its sunday. I find a bench and smoke nervely thinking I need a car here and that will be against my upcoming green values. Now I am back at my hotel. While finishing the mars, crackers...I remember the words the mother of the receptionist said to me while I was carrying the suitcases up the stairs. 'When do you take you breakfast usually?'-said she. I don't usually take it. I thought. But came out was: 'When do you usually serve it? I ll come down for 8'.
I take my breakfast when I wake up... it could be lunch in fact.
Working is going to be rather than floating in the air like a piersed balloon. No more said.

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