Love Byte

Sunday morning wakes me up a little later than planned, having forgotten to set my mobile phone alarm clock. Checking my phone for the time, I notice that I have received an sms from Maria. The time displayed states that it is now 9.17am. I begin to read Maria’s message.

Maria proposes that I collect her from the family home at 10am. Straight away I decide to cancel any ideas of having breakfast here in the Tudor Guest House. Not only will this save time, but I can give myself more time to ensure that all my belongings are taken with me upon leaving the B&B. I am due to leave today, so once I go to pick Maria up, I need to hand in the key to my room.

With little time to spare, I send a quick reply to agree to the pick-up time. I leap out of bed, throw some clothes on and dash across into the communal bathroom. In such a rush, I spend no longer than 3 minutes having a wash, brushing teeth and having a shave. Dashing back across the landing to my room, I see a couple in their mid 50s leaving the room next door to mine. I exchange a smile with them and head through my door.

I didn’t bring much with me, so packing is going to be no more than a 5 minute job. I knew that once I’ve put everything in the boot of my Fiesta, I could spare some time for a quick bite to eat in the dining room. After throwing everything into the boot of the car, I head back in for a few slices of toast and am able to drink a quick cup of tea. I was going to eat the nuts I bought yesterday and drink the rest of my flavoured water on the way to Maria’s house, but I think I will save these for the journey back home.

I hand in my room key, complimenting the owner on a wonderful service and exit the Tudor Guest House through the front door. My drive takes me once again to to the outskirts of the town to collect Maria. Along the way I notice that weather is good and looks like we could be in for a very nice day.

Maria is waiting for me, perhaps I took my time a little when handing in my room key. She does not appeared annoyed as I approach. A smile on Maria’s face begins to form once she recognises my little Fiesta, which is not too hard to recognise as being mine. I badly scratched the passenger side-mirror reversing out of a parking space in a multi-storey car park in Wellingborough. No other cars were damaged in the process of my unfortunate accident.

She gets into the car and I am relying on Maria to know the route. She assures me that she has been to Brighton before. I begin to question the route we are taking, as she informs me that it was last summer that she went to Brighton by road. We have no map, no satellite navigation system and are solely relying on Maria’s memory of the previous year.

Fortunately after doubt started to set into my mind, we have found what looks like the perimeter of Brighton. Maria now confirms that she remembers seeing the BP petrol station (which we had just past) beside a roundabout last time she was here. Now having found Brighton I take it upon myself to try and find us a good parking space for the car.

Brighton seems to be a series of hills. If we are not going up a road, we are going down one. Trying to be sure I know roughly what I’m doing, I decide to keep going around the centre of Brighton. After all, I have found an area which is completely full of shops and looks like the typical town centre of any English town. My assumption is that there must be a car park nearby.

Having found a multi-storey car park, I drive the car up and park on the 2^nd floor. The car park is run by NCP and appears a little dark inside. We walk out of the car park and onto Church Road. Maria’s memory kicks into gear again. Being sure that there are some shops down the far end of the road, we begin to walk in that direction. She’s correct and reaffirms that she recognises this area.

The next 2 hours are spent shopping. The first shop we enter is M&S. I needed the toilet and I was sure that the M&S in Brighton is likely to have such facilities. Having walked around the shop and looked at the womenswear section for Maria’s sake, we exit and turn right.

Ahhh Primark! I think Maria has been in one of these before, but she goes crazy when she sees the pricing. It is madness, the shop is crowded and you cannot stand still without being in someone’s way.

The first womenswear t-shirt table we approach probably had some nice piles of clothing on at the start of the day. Looking at it now, it is about midday and just simply a heap covering the few untouched piles buried underneath. Maria begins attacking the heap. For every garment she drops back down onto the table, I pick back up, feeling that it is my moral duty to fold the garment, putting it back neatly. Perhaps it was my past retail work which made me feel compelled to help the young shop staff recover the situation.

We come out of Primark with Maria having made some gift purchases for her relatives in Poland and me just relieved to get out of the chaos. We walk further along the road and find a small CD shop on the corner of a building block. We agree to enter, leaving each other to browse. I’m happy to have found ‘The Best Of Sam Cooke’ CD album. I have heard some of his songs on radio and thought I’d take the chance to buy this CD. Not realising then that it was pre-owned, but I now I know that I perhaps paid a high price for it. Not to worry I was happy to have found the CD.

Maria is still looking around the shop, so to kill time I take a look at the DVD section. Having taken my mobile phone out of my denim pocket, it tells me that time is moving quick. A further 10 minutes pass and Maria confirms that she is ready to go.

Having had enough of the shops we aim for the beach. This is what the part of Brighton I couldn’t wait to experience. Walking down one of the many sloping streets, we pass some small cafes and restaurants able to see the seafront waiting to greet us.

I guess I should have expected this having seen the beach at Worthing, but my thoughts of a sandy beach were quickly dashed. More pebbles! The following moments were a climbdown from the excitement (thinking that I was going to see a sandy beach) I was feeling just a minute ago. I suggest to Maria that we find a suitable crossing location as the Kings’ Road running along the pebbled beach is very busy.

Having both agreed a place on the beach to sit down, I try to adjust the pebbles in an attempt to make sitting down more comfortable. The sun is beaming down on us and has been out all day. The temperature has certainly risen to +30C.

After some 30 minutes of sitting down talking and enjoying the scenary, I am receiving the tingling sensations across my arms. I try to cover my arms a little and ignore the fact, this tingling sensation could become worse before it gets better.

It’s been a while now and despite attempts to cover my arms, a slight pink colour begins to appear on one of my arms. We agree to get moving after I point out that the time has now passed 3pm.

We slowly walk along the beach towards the pier. The nearer we get to the pier the better the beach becomes. The atmosphere has improved and there is entertainment on show adding to the buzz in the air. The more of this atmosphere I experience, the more I begin to like Brighton’s beach and ignore the fact that it is pebbled.

As we approach the pier, we make our way off of the beach. We have pretty much decided to call it a day now. Walking past the Royal Pavilion, I stop Maria to show her the grand building and explain briefly it’s history. We begin walking again only for Maria to walk directly into someone coming the other way. She blames me for creating the situation on purpose. A little surprised by this I laugh a little, asking how I could possibly have set such an incident up on purpose. She struggles to answer it, but tells me that we should have never stopped there in the first place.

Panic takes hold as neither of us seem to know which direction the car park is in. Every time we come to the end of road or approach a T-junction, we debate which direction to head in. During this time I suggest we buy a soft drink each. Maria declines, but I take full advantage of a nearby newsagent.

Leaving the newsagent, Maria’s orientation skills seem to have started to work again. She directs us up some streets and is convinced the multi-storey car park is just around the corner. I look around the street we are walking along, failing to recognise our location.

To my surprise I see the NCP car park on the corner as we walk towards the end of the street. Breathing a sigh of relief, I find the side entrance and eagerly tell Maria that this was in fact the exit we came out of earlier upon leaving the NCP car park..

Yes! The car is still where we left it, convinced that it would be stolen by time we came back. I unlock the passenger door to allow Maria a chance to sit down while I go and pay for the car park. Having found the pay machine I put the ticket given to me (upon driving into the car park) into the machine. The screen displays a price I’ve never seen a car park charge so much before. In fact it’s way above what I imagined it to be. Withpout going into too much detail, lets just say it was above £28 for less than one days worth of parking. I look at the price per hour and it is more than what I have to pay for a whole day’s parking in my home town.

Having reluctantly paid the fee, given that I have no choice. I walk back to the car feeling like I was robbed. I really wished we could have taken the train from Worthing now. I’m sure it would have been far cheaper than the car parking fee.

We exit the car park and I try to find us a way out of Brighton. After a little effort, turning corners and gong over roundabouts we find a road sign directing us to the motorway. It is becoming late in the day now and I have yet begun my journey home. I put my foot down a little faster with the hope of arriving in Worthing much quicker.

During the journey back to Worthing, I ask Maria if she will come back to England next summer. She is not sure. Next term will be the start of her final year for her university course, she need to spend this in a work placement at a suitable school. She will only know later if she can return back to England. I inform Maria that if I ever come to Poland I will certainly come to visit her if she wants me to. She said she would like this if I do visit her country and can advise me which locations to visit.

Having arrived at the family house on the outskirts of Worthing, I park the car on the opposite side of the road to where the house is situated. I look at Maria thanking her for her time over the last two days. She was happy that I had come down to meet her and stayed despite her being a little ill the day before.

It was at that moment that I wanted to give Maria a hug. Realising that this was it and we were about to go our seperate ways at least until next summer. I looked at her and smiled, my mind was telling me not to hug her. The fear of crossing the bounderies of friendship made the decision for me, even though it would only be a simple hug.

Maria opens the door and gets out of the car, shutting the door behind her. She crosses the road and

I watch as she crosses. I note that she did not check to see if any cars were coming in either direction. Perhaps it is things like this which possibly makes Maria seem a little accident-prone.

I turn the car around, watching her walk down the driveway and trying to put my Duran-Duran CD into my car stereo at the same time. Once I face the car in the right direction, I take one more look at her walking along the driveway. In seeing this, I knew my meeting had officially ended. I have met my first online friend in real life and loved the experience.

Consigning this experience into history, Duran-Duran’s ‘Planet Earth’ track begins to play on the stereo. I accelerate hard up the road with a desire to leave the Worthng as quickly as possible.

The journey home was a long and awkward one. After 20 minutes I realise that I have taken a wrong turn somewhere and am now driving through the countryside. I’m driving along what seems like a mixture of A and B roads. These roads are taking me everywhere and I’ve bumped into 2 mobile speed cameras along the way, both seemed to be coloured orange and tucked in discreet locations

For every 10 minutes which pass I question myself, asking if I am going round in circles. I know I must be somewhere directly south of London, but I honestly have no clue where. Being lazy I refuse to pull over to one side and get the road map out from the boot of the car.

My slow driving is causing queues and I’ve already received hand gestures from the guy tailgating behind me in a blue Subaru Impreza. I’m convinced though that I’m not far from the M25. Fortunately, I was not that far away, as minutes later I see a sign for Guildford appearing on the left. This for me was a sign of hope, of relief and the answer to my immediate problem.

I’ve once been to Guildford, with my brother having lived there for a few years. I can remember it is not far from the motorway circuit. Having become more relaxed, I begin to think about the weekend.

Maria’s a great individual. Not only is she interesting to talk to, she is someone I can easily laugh with. I believed we both enjoyed the time together and it was a shame that we had such a short time together. One outcome I was happy with was that we were able to make the transition from being friends online, to friends offline.

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