This morning I pulled myself wearily onto a Virgin West Coast Train to work my way down to Ellesmere Port near Liverpool, suffused with cold and cough, frozen from the sudden onslaught of winter and sad to be leaving my wife and son back home.
Five minutes into the journey I was back in usual form, watching and learning from those around me, wandering where we all are and where we are all going (in-life I mean as I know that I was heading to Ellesmere Port on the 1051 Virgin West Coast Train, change at Warrington Bank Quay).
They overheat these trains you know. I initially took off my coat. Then when I started to perspire profusely, to the discomfort of the summer-dressed granny perched primly next to me, I took off my vivid-yellow mohair polar neck jumper with all the farm animals on it. Five minutes later as I sat there with my large rucksack between my legs (I had mistakenly thought that I could put it on the luggage rack above but they build these things for coats only these days) I felt the need to take off further layers before I fainted. I could see granny looking at me out of the corner of her eye. She sniffed expressively as I sat immovable and unable to see as the rucksack, the jumper, a sweatshirt, an extra t-shirt, a scarf and some gloves kept me securely in place.
The train was totally empty. I fail to understand how The Train Line with whom I booked my ticket manage seat allocations but there was me squashed against the window in 39A, the granny perched next to me in 40A and lots and lots of unnocupied seats. I wanted to mention by-the-by to granny that she could move to another seat but did not want to risk frightening her with my gravelly voice that was liberally enhanced with the rigors of coughing too much.
And so we worked our way down to the borders and into England, through areas of snow, patches of hailstones, sun and rain and ice and onward to Warrington Bank Quay.
I got off and so per chance did granny!
Due to an unforeseen delay most likely caused by snow on the tracks I had missed my connection and so I sensibly repaired to the only coffee shop around for a cappuccino and a bit of warmth for the next hour of waiting. Seems that my double-generation-apart companion was on the same track as me! And so we sat next to each other at the only table available, not saying a word and seemingly lost in our own little worlds, oblivious to the presence of the other. My train eventually pulled up. The 1502 from Warrington Bank Quay to Ellesmere Port and off I went to hop on.
The train was strangely full but I manged to find one empty double seat further up the carriage and so I plonked myself down before anybody else spotted it. A couple of seconds later a wrinkled and wobbling hand under my nose indicated that somebody wanted to sit down, a subtle hint that I should move my rucksack off the seat beside me.
It was granny.
We passed another half-hour in companionable silence, she in her summer dress on the edge of her seat and I sweating profusely in my six layers of clothes, insistant that I could grit my teeth and bear it in preference to undressing myself again.
Whilst preparing to get off the train, she by covering her summer-dress with an equally flimsy coat and I by trying to cool myself down by wafting air up my t-shirt, she turned around to me and said "nice jumper".
And so we parted our ways. I wonder if I will meet her again on the return journey. Perhaps not but I will be prepared. One T-shirt and a coat should work!
Five minutes into the journey I was back in usual form, watching and learning from those around me, wandering where we all are and where we are all going (in-life I mean as I know that I was heading to Ellesmere Port on the 1051 Virgin West Coast Train, change at Warrington Bank Quay).
They overheat these trains you know. I initially took off my coat. Then when I started to perspire profusely, to the discomfort of the summer-dressed granny perched primly next to me, I took off my vivid-yellow mohair polar neck jumper with all the farm animals on it. Five minutes later as I sat there with my large rucksack between my legs (I had mistakenly thought that I could put it on the luggage rack above but they build these things for coats only these days) I felt the need to take off further layers before I fainted. I could see granny looking at me out of the corner of her eye. She sniffed expressively as I sat immovable and unable to see as the rucksack, the jumper, a sweatshirt, an extra t-shirt, a scarf and some gloves kept me securely in place.
The train was totally empty. I fail to understand how The Train Line with whom I booked my ticket manage seat allocations but there was me squashed against the window in 39A, the granny perched next to me in 40A and lots and lots of unnocupied seats. I wanted to mention by-the-by to granny that she could move to another seat but did not want to risk frightening her with my gravelly voice that was liberally enhanced with the rigors of coughing too much.
And so we worked our way down to the borders and into England, through areas of snow, patches of hailstones, sun and rain and ice and onward to Warrington Bank Quay.
I got off and so per chance did granny!
Due to an unforeseen delay most likely caused by snow on the tracks I had missed my connection and so I sensibly repaired to the only coffee shop around for a cappuccino and a bit of warmth for the next hour of waiting. Seems that my double-generation-apart companion was on the same track as me! And so we sat next to each other at the only table available, not saying a word and seemingly lost in our own little worlds, oblivious to the presence of the other. My train eventually pulled up. The 1502 from Warrington Bank Quay to Ellesmere Port and off I went to hop on.
The train was strangely full but I manged to find one empty double seat further up the carriage and so I plonked myself down before anybody else spotted it. A couple of seconds later a wrinkled and wobbling hand under my nose indicated that somebody wanted to sit down, a subtle hint that I should move my rucksack off the seat beside me.
It was granny.
We passed another half-hour in companionable silence, she in her summer dress on the edge of her seat and I sweating profusely in my six layers of clothes, insistant that I could grit my teeth and bear it in preference to undressing myself again.
Whilst preparing to get off the train, she by covering her summer-dress with an equally flimsy coat and I by trying to cool myself down by wafting air up my t-shirt, she turned around to me and said "nice jumper".
And so we parted our ways. I wonder if I will meet her again on the return journey. Perhaps not but I will be prepared. One T-shirt and a coat should work!
