The Flowerhead train station brings back a mountain of memories.
The first time I stepped into its boring post-war shell, I went to London with my parents, thinking it was the most exotic and awesome place I would ever step foot in.
The next time it was Blackpool Theme Park. I trawled through it's tired grey walls with my school friends and a happy mask- even though I hated roller coasters.
Or the many times I would take the journey to Cambridge for a university that would tire me to near-death.
And now I'm here again for a brand new turn in life- I hope. The flurry of butterflies in the stomach I felt when I was going to London is back. I try to remind myself, clutching to my bright blue rucksack, that this trip to the train station will be different. I am going to travel wherever the hell I want to and this time it will be different. This time I will be going since I want to not because someone else has pressured me into it.
Not my parents.
Not my friends.
Not my teachers.
I was entering Flowerhead Station for me.