Blob and Winefride came back last night from several days away. They were incredibly busy and did some quite unexpected things. Blob's person and his creator were incredibly busy too. Blob and Winefride got very tired because they did so many things but today they are full of energy again and Winefride has been getting very flappy and bouncy thinking about the last few days while she watched Blob's person put all the photos onto the laptop ready for Blob and his person to blog about. Blob had busy days and slept all night once his person finally agreed that they could all go to bed which was much later than usual. Fancy keeping someone as young as Winefride out at that hour! [It's okay for you Blob, I'm glad you're refreshed. I'm not yet. You slept well for the nights we were away. In a period of five nights I probably got less than ten hours sleep. And that last night in the tent? You were wrapped up really warm in lots and lots of layers but even wearing a jumper and a coat and a gorgeous new woolly hat I was still very cold in the tent and my nose was probably a very frozen colour. You might be bouncing around. I'm full of aches and need another good night of sleep.]
Blob tells his person to stop moaning about it because he says she has had a marvellous time and wasn't melty or panicky for that much of it and was happy flappy and full of joy for some of it too. That amount of joy is worth getting a cold nose for. That's what Blob says. [But what does Blob know about cold noses? He doesn't have a nose. [How does he smell? ...]]
Blob wants to start talking of all these recent adventures tomorrow. It'll be September. It's true that he hasn't even finished writing about his adventures in June yet but he wants to jump forward. The earlier adventures will still be there for him whenever he wants to write about them. And he enjoyed attending the Greenbelt Festival so much that he just wants to infodump about it - just as his person and his creator infodumped about him and Winefride to a woman in a queue for a show. She was very nice and had her picture taken with him too and thought his fur was very beautiful indeed.
But back to June. Blob, his person and his creator had finally escaped from the land of Fleetwood. They had tried very hard to escape and everything they tried had failed, whether it was digging a tunnel or whether it was bribing a ship owner to hide them and smuggle them out. In the end the intrepid trio had escaped by a comparatively simple means: They had caught a bus to Blackpool.
On arrival at Blackpool they checked the times of trains to escape still further, until the Fylde coast was just a distant memory never to be returned to again until they fancied a trip out to such places again. They had quite a wait so decided that the time would be better filled by walking to the seaside on a pleasant evening than it would by sitting in a crowded and not particularly attractive railway station.
The tide was out so everyone could walk along the beach. Before them stretched exactly one imperial mile of golden sand. No more and no less. This was the famous Golden Mile of Blackpool. A mile of lights and shows and crowds and attractions. A mile which Bill Bryson called "gloriously tacky." Blob is unsure of that description. At first glance it appeared to him that perhaps Bryson was only half correct. It certainly all looked quite tacky. But Blob couldn't quite see the glory. Maybe one day he will find it. Lots of people obviously can see the glory, otherwise there possibly wouldn't be so many of them doing their best to enjoy themselves with or without the addition of copious quantities of alcohol.
It seemed to Blob Thing that on that night a lot of those people must have been in desperate need of those copious quantities because it was obvious that they had consumed amounts that could only be described in such a way. Why else would people drink so much if they were having fun and enjoying themselves and being free without it? Blob seems to think that the only reason people get drunk or drink such quantities is because they don't quite know how to have a good time without filling themselves with chemicals. Blob says that where there is freedom and the joy received in freedom there is never a need to use alcohol or drugs to have a good evening. Blob's person thinks that he may have oversimplified things with such a view but agrees that he does have a good point. She wants to go to an evening out in Newcastle sometime at which drugs and alcohol are banned, where the only highs people have come from dancing and freedom and from the chemicals their own body produces.
Blob Thing didn't drink alcohol that night. He stood on the beach and marvelled at the sand and the sea and the sky and how cold it felt in the wind. Blob's person remembered the last time she had stood on the beach at Blackpool. That had been a wonderful time. That had felt like heaven. And it had been much, much colder. Blob knew about that day already because his person has a card with a picture of the scene. It looks amazing to Blob. Even though it looks as though it was snowing quite hard.
Blob looked round and behind him he saw a giant tower. One day he might climb all the way to the top. On that night though it was just an excuse for another photo opportunity. First he had his picture taken with his person. You can see just how windy it was because his dress is almost blowing away so much that the photo might have had to be censored if Blob was ashamed of his naked form - a form that will never be fully naked because his dress is sewn into place.
And then Blob sat himself on the beach for a solo photo. The sand felt very funny. On a warmer day he would have liked to have sat with the sand and played. He had experienced a lot of sand already that day on the beach at Fleetwood. But he hadn't had time to stop and experience the sand fully because he had been desperately trying to dig his escape tunnel. He didn't have time in Blackpool either because they would all have to head back to the train soon.
Before leaving the beach, Blob's creator had a superb idea:
She would teach Blob how to listen to barnacles. She would teach Blob's person too. Blob's creator said that if you sit with your ear up to the barnacles and are very quiet then you can hear them talking. Blob's person didn't believe that was possible but Blob had no doubts at all. So when they tried it Blob's person got a big surprise. Blob wasn't surprised but he was happy to be doing this new thing.
He listened closer. Closer. Closer still. The barnacles were talking with each other. Blob is a very quick learned and a proficient linguist and it wasn't long before he began to understand the language of the barnacles. It turns out that barnacles have a complex philosophical and religious system based largely on the sea and the tides. They are nature worshippers. Blob quite liked the sound of their faith. He wouldn't like to join them though because that would entail becoming a barnacle and he much prefers being a Blob. Barnacles don't get to travel to Greenbelt with their person. Wow! The way that Winefride was dancing on Monday night was incredibly joyful to watch. Blob loves his sister. Blob says he doesn't want to give away many of the secrets of the barnacles, who had been in the middle of some kind of church service at the time. But he will say that they said a prayer during the service for the sea to come again, wash over them, and feed them.
It was time to leave Blackpool and catch the train. The day had been very variable. For all three travellers the worst was yet to come. The train journey. Very crowded. Very loud. Many people who obviously needed or at least desperately desired the addition of those copious quantities of alcohol in order to have a good time. For three autistic travellers, already overwhelmed from the day and already very tired, it is a horrible way to travel.
Horrible.
But they survived. Which is just as well otherwise Blob would never have met Winefride and they would never have visited Greenbelt together. Blob wants to go back there next year with Winefride. He loves his sister.
[1587 words]
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