On the train back from the Edinburgh wedding, I was feeling pretty low for a few reasons. At Newcastle, this old lady, in her 80s I’d say, took the seat next to me. We didn’t say anything or even acknowledge each other for a while, until I went to get a tea and she had to move aside. When I returned she asked me croakily, in a firm Geordie accent, if I was from London. My initial, internal reaction was wtf, why are you talking to me, just shut up! But I am instinctively polite so I replied, and gradually, all-too-slowly, realised it was actually pretty nice talking to this woman.
She told me she was on her way to York for the day; she told me about the free buses in Leeds where I said I’d been at university many moons ago; she confessed she rode the trains a lot using her husband’s old pass, after he died 15 years ago. “He worked on the tracks” she said, with fond, nostalgic pride. I sensed he had been a good guy, and was much missed.
Eventually York station trundled into view. This lady, whose name I never got, stood up. “I’m standing up now,” she said. I nodded, and gulped a little, unexpectedly choked. “It was nice to meet you,” I mustered. It really had been; a brief rise from my otherwise ugly reverie. “Nice to meet you too,” she said, matter-of-factly, before striding off into her life, and out of mine. I sat there, damp-eyed and suddenly, starkly aware of the fragility of things. Then the train pulled out, and I gradually forgot, returning to my slumber.
That encounter stays with me, though. It also shows me how things can grow, and how my own first impressions and gut reactions aren’t always great. This beautiful, rousing song does a little of that, too…
Tim And Sam’s Tim And The Sam Band With Tim And Sam – Choices
Brilliant post really enjoyed that!
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