“Oh it’s just a school reunion in London. I’ll be back later.” I waved a cheery goodbye to my husband at Frome station and walked towards the platform. I had decided to take the scenic route going from Frome and change at Westbury.
Train journeys are always thrilling to me, a leftover experience from my childhood. I remember catching the steam trains taking us down to London to visit my aunt. The train would pull into the station, huffing and puffing like a huge mechanical dragon and the steam would swirl and curl under the station roof as the engine pulled past us and came to a dramatic hissing stop. Nowadays most trains aren’t so exciting as they glide smoothly along the platform side, just a set of carriages with a driver at the front.
Still, this was an adventure and something different.
On the London train, I met up with an old chum, and we spent the time in happy chat and catching up. She then went off to the loo but after a while it seemed to me that she’d been gone rather a long time. My phone beeped. Looking down I read this alarming text.
I’m stuck in the loo! Help!
What? I got up from my seat in panic and rushed down the corridor. Standing outside the loo was an attendant waiting for assistance. Apparently the situation was in hand. It was one of those large modern loos with a sliding arch door. I had used it earlier but hadn’t figured out how to lock it and had therefore escaped the fate of my friend. Glad no one tried to enter while I was sitting on the throne! It seems that passengers have got stuck before – must be a design fault, or the fact that the general public are not ready for such super loos!
With no further drama, we arrived at Paddington in the blazing sun. Now we had a short walk round the back of the station to Paddington Basin. My friend and I don’t visit London very often and as we both live in the country, it all feels very thrilling and exciting. Strolling along the water’s edge, the place was teeming with office workers and smart young people on their lunchbreak. We reached a cascade of steps leading down to a small fountain sparkling in the hot sunshine. Our rendezvous was in a large glass building overlooking this spot.
Now we spent happy hours recognising each other and reconnecting over the years. Although we had walked different pathways through life, it was still possible to recognise the giggly teenage girls that we once had been. I recognised my tormentor, a bully, who was an immature girl at school. She had now grown up into an immature woman. No, we hadn’t changed that much.
The afternoon lengthened into early evening and some of us went out and sat in the sunshine. It would soon be time to catch taxis and trains and head for home.
Sitting on my train, I watched suburbs of London slip slowly by. In the distance light grey hazy smog hung over the houses. As the train gathered speed, I was aware of the wonderful evening light and a magnificent sunset unfolding before my very eyes. The intensity of rose pink colour grew stronger, deepening to violets and blue hues reflecting off huge fluffy clouds. One glorious cloud appeared to take on the shape of a massive sea creature or whale. It seemed to race along with us as we headed further West. Then the blue coloured sky slowly darkened and by the time the train finally pulled in at Westbury, it was pitch black.
I alighted onto an empty platform and made my way to the information screen.
Frome train cancelled
For a moment I stared at the screen in disbelief. Why was the train cancelled? What am I going to do? Panic crossed my mind momentarily. There was no-one to ask, no passengers, no attendants, nobody. Feeling a little alarmed for here I was, a female travelling alone, I wandered down to the main entrance where at last I found a fellow passenger, a young man wearing a suit and carrying a briefcase. He was going to Frome as well, and like me, was stuck here at Westbury.
“Wait here and I’ll go and find out what’s happening.” He said and walked back up to the platform. I turned and it was then that I noticed a taxi parked opposite and a man lurking beside it. He was watching me and I felt slightly uneasy. He looked a bit shifty.
“Would you like a taxi?” he asked eventually.
“No thank you.”
“It will be free.”
“No that’s ok thank you.”
I hoped my fellow passenger would come back soon and shifted by feet uneasily. I felt exposed and vulnerable standing there in this strange place at night.
The smart young man returned.
“It’s all fine. They have to lay on a taxi for us. It’ll be along shortly.”
Phew! We won’t have to go with shifty guy across the road.
Our taxi arrived and we jumped in.
“Just waiting for a couple more passengers and then we’ll be away.” The taxi driver cheerfully announced.
At last two ladies squeezed in beside me in the back and we were off. The taxi man was very chatty and explained that last trains were often cancelled and taxis had to be used instead. I’d already texted my husband to explain what had happened so it was a relief to see him waiting at Frome station.
“Good day then?”
“Yes it’s been quite an adventure,” I smiled wearily, “But it’ll be good to get home.”
Train journeys are always thrilling to me, a leftover experience from my childhood. I remember catching the steam trains taking us down to London to visit my aunt. The train would pull into the station, huffing and puffing like a huge mechanical dragon and the steam would swirl and curl under the station roof as the engine pulled past us and came to a dramatic hissing stop. Nowadays most trains aren’t so exciting as they glide smoothly along the platform side, just a set of carriages with a driver at the front.
Still, this was an adventure and something different.
On the London train, I met up with an old chum, and we spent the time in happy chat and catching up. She then went off to the loo but after a while it seemed to me that she’d been gone rather a long time. My phone beeped. Looking down I read this alarming text.
I’m stuck in the loo! Help!
What? I got up from my seat in panic and rushed down the corridor. Standing outside the loo was an attendant waiting for assistance. Apparently the situation was in hand. It was one of those large modern loos with a sliding arch door. I had used it earlier but hadn’t figured out how to lock it and had therefore escaped the fate of my friend. Glad no one tried to enter while I was sitting on the throne! It seems that passengers have got stuck before – must be a design fault, or the fact that the general public are not ready for such super loos!
With no further drama, we arrived at Paddington in the blazing sun. Now we had a short walk round the back of the station to Paddington Basin. My friend and I don’t visit London very often and as we both live in the country, it all feels very thrilling and exciting. Strolling along the water’s edge, the place was teeming with office workers and smart young people on their lunchbreak. We reached a cascade of steps leading down to a small fountain sparkling in the hot sunshine. Our rendezvous was in a large glass building overlooking this spot.
Now we spent happy hours recognising each other and reconnecting over the years. Although we had walked different pathways through life, it was still possible to recognise the giggly teenage girls that we once had been. I recognised my tormentor, a bully, who was an immature girl at school. She had now grown up into an immature woman. No, we hadn’t changed that much.
The afternoon lengthened into early evening and some of us went out and sat in the sunshine. It would soon be time to catch taxis and trains and head for home.
Sitting on my train, I watched suburbs of London slip slowly by. In the distance light grey hazy smog hung over the houses. As the train gathered speed, I was aware of the wonderful evening light and a magnificent sunset unfolding before my very eyes. The intensity of rose pink colour grew stronger, deepening to violets and blue hues reflecting off huge fluffy clouds. One glorious cloud appeared to take on the shape of a massive sea creature or whale. It seemed to race along with us as we headed further West. Then the blue coloured sky slowly darkened and by the time the train finally pulled in at Westbury, it was pitch black.
I alighted onto an empty platform and made my way to the information screen.
Frome train cancelled
For a moment I stared at the screen in disbelief. Why was the train cancelled? What am I going to do? Panic crossed my mind momentarily. There was no-one to ask, no passengers, no attendants, nobody. Feeling a little alarmed for here I was, a female travelling alone, I wandered down to the main entrance where at last I found a fellow passenger, a young man wearing a suit and carrying a briefcase. He was going to Frome as well, and like me, was stuck here at Westbury.
“Wait here and I’ll go and find out what’s happening.” He said and walked back up to the platform. I turned and it was then that I noticed a taxi parked opposite and a man lurking beside it. He was watching me and I felt slightly uneasy. He looked a bit shifty.
“Would you like a taxi?” he asked eventually.
“No thank you.”
“It will be free.”
“No that’s ok thank you.”
I hoped my fellow passenger would come back soon and shifted by feet uneasily. I felt exposed and vulnerable standing there in this strange place at night.
The smart young man returned.
“It’s all fine. They have to lay on a taxi for us. It’ll be along shortly.”
Phew! We won’t have to go with shifty guy across the road.
Our taxi arrived and we jumped in.
“Just waiting for a couple more passengers and then we’ll be away.” The taxi driver cheerfully announced.
At last two ladies squeezed in beside me in the back and we were off. The taxi man was very chatty and explained that last trains were often cancelled and taxis had to be used instead. I’d already texted my husband to explain what had happened so it was a relief to see him waiting at Frome station.
“Good day then?”
“Yes it’s been quite an adventure,” I smiled wearily, “But it’ll be good to get home.”