This morning it was time for one of the last handovers, Journal 22 was to be given to it’s Inscriber.
Our car broke down yesterday, so I traveled out to the prearranged cafe by public transport. Sort of. By which I mean I got it wrong, got on the wrong train and got off at the wrong station and then had to catch a tram to the right place. Which then appeared not to be the right place and I wandered around a little before stumbling on the cafe down an alley down an alley.
But I arrived in the end only 5 minutes late (how that happened, I’m not quite sure. Maybe I’m better at this public transport lark than I think? Somehow, I’m not sure that’s it) We chatted about radicalism and feminism and baby boomers, our generation and the next one coming. We chatted about class systems and privilege and the opening and closing of schools, all over exceptionally good coffee. Journal 22 was safely handed over and then the hand over was over and we headed back to town. In a much more direct fashion (we found the right train station this time, less than a minute’s walk from the cafe).
Sharing Ink is nothing if not an adventure!