…is not an art I have learned. I have just struggled across London with a suitcase, handbag, rucksack, bag filled with gifts and 2 carrier bags with food that I didn’t manage to finish before travelling. I was pleased with my suitcase packing, but I struggle to understand why there is so much else besides.
In the hopes of not being too harried by the time I got to Liverpool Street, I tried to work out the route with the least steps, but there were still a lot. It made me appreciate again how blessed I am to have working limbs to get me from A to B, muscles to manipulate the load, senses to help me navigate, mental faculties to consider routes and be (partially) spatially aware – and a fair amount of knowledge of the London travel network, of course. What a wonder! Without all of these things working together, it would have been a journey of unknown danger and complexity.
I am glad to be safely on the train eastwards and not needing to concern myself with points and signals and speed limits, the modern comfort of travelling without getting dusty or muddy from the road or wet from the sea or river. Or horse-sore or blistered or exhausted.
I will arrive in more or less the state I left home, maybe a little flustered from getting myself and my luggage off the train. Then I will be able to forget the journey and think only about impending Christmas services and celebrations. But maybe I should hold onto my journey for Christmas, Christmas which is full of journeys to Bethlehem: Mary and Joseph, the shepherds, the Magi.
It is the Eve of Christmas Eve, the Forefeast of the Nativity. Make ready, o Bethlehem! We journey to you!