I slept very well, but was awoken by a group of very noisy young Indians, clowning around + behaving very stupidly. But perhaps I am growing old. I had the top bunk, the permanent one (it was my turn) + there I stayed for the rest of the journey, having not the slightest desire to be sociable. I did, however, use the time profitably, for I was able to come to a decision – an important one at that, viz. what to do upon our return to England. I have thought of applying for some sort of course, but without any clear idea of a subject, + without much enthusiasm either. It is, in truth, more the idea of being a student which appeals. But then it occurred to me, why not Drama, the one subject I actually care for? Perhaps Pete’s demise, as a student anyway, put the idea into my head, I don’t know. It may well be, of course, that the universities will all turn me down, in view of my lack of A-levels, or, alternatively, because I’ve already had one bite (or more accurately, 2 half-bites, at the further education apple) but trying can’t do any harm, + it certainly gives me something to aim for. I felt much happier, having made the decision, anyway.
We arrived in Jammu at a little after midday, + immediately bought our ticket for, + got on, the waiting bus. This was quite a relief, for at one time we thought we would have to spend the night in Jammu. There was the usual mix-up over the allocated seat nos., but on this occasion it worked to our advantage, for I ended up in what I reckoned to be the best seat in the bus, right at the front, right in the middle. It was a long journey, 10 hrs or so, up to Srinagar, but certainly while there was daylight, it was most enjoyable, especially as sunset arrived, + the hills + surrounding countryside were bathed in a warm orange light.
The usual pattern was for the bus to halt for the night at a small town 3 hrs or so before Srinagar, stay in a hostel there, + go on in the morning. But a couple of the passengers organised a whip-round to persuade the driver to go straight on thro’ tonight. It was Rs3 per person, but we didn’t want to appear awkward about it, so paid up with the rest. This would mean, of course, arriving at some dreadfully late hour, but we were assured that we would be able to stay in the Tourist Centre for free. This turned out to be a lie, in fact, for when we arrived the people in the Centre had no idea what we were talking about. It was, moreover, freezing. Eventually we were told we could sleep on the floor, provided, it was repeated to us 3 or 4 times, we took responsibility for our own bags. We put on as many clothes as possible, + huddled together, both for warmth, + because we had only the one sleeping mat.
Always dangerous to record plans for the future, if one is likely to discover them later and find out how wrong they turned out to be. On our rerturn to England, I stumbled back into teaching, as the easiest path, and stayed there, pretty much, for the rest of my career. And actually I can’t say that I regret it.
Otherwise a long, long journey, and not one that ended all that well, sleeping on the floor of a cold Visitor’s Centre.
