What Am I Doing Here?

Woke up this morning to beautiful sunshine of friendly, warm emails from happy families and far away friends and could control the tears of self-pity. Bexhill is still sleeping at 8.45 Saturday morning as expectable in the town of retirement homes, funeral directors and charity shops. The silver blue, mid-tide sea coats the town in calm and everything is so quiet Yet the noise of discontentment in my head won't let me enjoy it. I feel like an oyster stranded on a plate of salt; lonely, desiccated an half dead. I don't really go among people unless it's unavoidable. Aging folk on mobility scooters dodge teenage mums's pushing pram around homeless beggars and their well fed dogs on the pavements, causing a pedestrian traffic jam. Taking the train to Hastings is a disturbing. The platform is a tableaux of resentful young mothers disrespecting their children, gangs of drunken teenagers venting their anger and frustration on the world that doesn't truly see them. A flock of uniformed rail employees antagonizing a guy on Non-Income Based Job Seeker's Allowance for not buying a ticket at the start of his journey; "spend it on a ticket instead of the booze mate..." Little courtesies are precious gifts that are received with undeserved gratitude. Drop in for a smile at McDonald's. Don't blame obesity on gluttony but on desperation. Sugar and fat offered with a smile is irresistible. But I digress which means it's time for breakfast. And McDonald's is just a 10 min. bike ride on the beach. :)