Every now and then, life will throw you one of those rare, magical moments that you’ll remember until all the Facebook status updates about Twilight finally melt your brain.
I took the bus into Newmarket the other day to pick up the Polo. It had been raining as I’d set off, but on arrival the sky cleared a little, leaving fresh, dewy air and the early evening sun in its wake. As I stepped off the bus, I realised that the shopping centre I usually used as a short-cut was locked for the night, so rather than walk around the multi-storey car park which lay between myself and the high street, I decided to cut through it.
The ramp which appeared to lead up to the main road beyond was just opposite me, though deserted of its usual push-chair traffic. The whole place felt abandoned, the noise of the rush-hour outside echoing off the pillars within like the ghost of the morning commute. Seeing this place so empty, so different and other, made me slightly giddy. I felt as though I was trespassing – a strange interloper in a world which belonged firmly to four wheels.
I continued up the ramp regardless – defiant – however I was met with a barrier, separating me from my destination. The path I had been following continued on though, doubling back on itself and rising above its original course. I checked my watch – I had time to see where it went.
I climbed on, emerging beneath a flat concrete roof and behind a small shed. I had no idea where I was, but the covering led me to believe I was still within the building proper. How wrong I was. Stepping out from behind the small structure, I found myself on the top of the car park, staring at a chess board of empty parking spaces.
I don’t think I’ve ever had so much fun by myself. The total freedom on that roof was intoxicating – there was no one there to watch me, to see me run around in silence with arms stuck out pretending to be an aeroplane. There was no one to see me skip down the up ramp to the level below and run, hell-for-leather, back up again. When I’d finally finished playing out my frustration at all manner of insignificant things, I walked back down, cut around my secret playground and rejoined the world of adults going about their business.