I had to run to the platform to catch the train. It had proved difficult getting the bulky display stand out of the taxi. Why Head Office couldn’t courier it to the Conference was beyond me.
I boarded just as the rotund train despatcher let a hearty peep from his whistle.
The stand took a while to store in the overhead shelf but after a short struggle, I was able to take my seat. An attractive woman in her thirties was next to me. We smiled at each other.
“Good morning Ladies and Gentlemen. Welcome aboard the 09.47 Service to Plymouth. This train will be calling at Edinburgh Waverley, Newcastle, Durham, Sheffield, Derby, Birmingham New Street, Cheltenham Spa, Bristol Temple Meads, Taunton, Exeter St David’s and Plymouth with a scheduled arrival time into Plymouth of 20.06. Thank you for travelling Cross Country My wife left me last night for another man. It’s come as a bit of a shock. Next stop will be Edinburgh Waverley.”
“Did I hear him correctly?” I asked my neighbour.
“He’s been talking about it since Aberdeen. Luckily no kids involved. Low sperm count apparently.”
As the train pulled away, I turned my attention to The Economist and read an article on new oil opportunities in the Congo Basin. The woman listened to her IPod and occasionally checked emails. Time passed smoothly.
“Ladies and Gentleman, we are now arriving into Edinburgh Waverley Station. This is where I first met Shirley. In Greggs. Both of us were reaching for the last spicy chicken slice. She let me have it. I knew there and then I had met my soul mate. Please ensure you have all your belongings with you and I wish you a safe onward journey .”
There was a feint sob over the PA system, “The Catering Manager informs me that the buffet no longer has any sandwiches.”
Whilst it was a sad state of affairs I did not believe a lack of comestibles warranted tears from a grown man. Then I recalled the poor lad’s travails.
It made me think. I’ve been married for nine years now. Or maybe ten. Couple of kids. Jonus and Milly. Eight and six respectively. We are happy. I think. I will ask the wife tonight when I get home.
My stomach growled. I could have done with a sandwich too.
The Guard appeared in the Carriage, checking tickets. I noticed two things about him. He had been crying and secondly, he was the ugliest man I had ever seen.
I doffed a metaphorical hat to Shirley. Brave women. Perhaps a touch myopic.
“Sorry for your troubles.”
“This month would have been our eighth anniversary. ”
He checked my tickets and moved on. He smelled of fish. At least he may be rich in Omega 3. I have a deficiency.
“No oil painting is he?” my neighbour said. I did not demur.
We approached Newcastle. My destination.
I struggled to retrieve the display stand. It was lodged behind another passenger’s holdall. The woman was alighting here too. I felt her shoulder on my chest as she brushed past. We smiled at each other for a final time.
I wondered whether she fancied me.
As I stepped off the train, the Guard was singing;
“‘Cause I am your lady and you are my man.
Whenever you reach for me I’ll do all that I can…..”
I hope they sorted out the sandwich situation.
That is crazy…what a way to vent.
Splenetic at least!
I am not sure what that means, but I will just go with it. 😉
Full of atmosphere! Where do you get your charachters;)
They are all around us! Glad you enjoyed it.
Never put the low sperm count guy in a position of responsibility…
Wise words. Very wise words.
I was feeling sort of bad about it, to tell you the truth.
Poor soul. He’ll never be able to enjoy spicy chicken again…
He lost more than his wife…..
Oh Jim, fantastic characterisation and many belly laughs from this side of the screen. Omega 3 deficiency, Classic. 🙂
Many thanks.
Wonderful! Romance in Greggs and yet no sandwiches on the train – symbolism! 😉
Greggs features heavily in many a love life – glad you enjoyed it.
I peed my pants…and wet the bed…
Is that too much info ???
Thank you for this great start to my day…hehehehe
Not at all! Glad you enjoyed the story.
Well if the sandwiches were cucumber, with the crusts properly removed, and just a touch of sea salt, I can understand why he’d cry about that.
Can I borrow the “no oil painting” line? Love it!
Feel free!
Good stuff mate, keep um coming
Cheers
Agree with the other comments – vivid characters and atmosphere. Your writing has a wonderful cadence.
Very kind of you – many thanks
Are you Eric Idle in disguise?
No!
Maybe the lady was also going to the conference? But think of the children…
As always well observed – can I borrow your ghost to keep an eye on things and prevent any hanky panky?
I’m confined to Camden, I must have unfinished business here. You’ll have to just think of the wife and kids and ignore the harlot’s advances.
I’ll be strong.
For whatever reason, this cracked me up: He checked my tickets and moved on. He smelled of fish. At least he may be rich in Omega 3. I have a deficiency. … many thanks for supplying some wit for my morning.
You are most welcome.
Just think how entertaining train (or any, for that matter) travel would be if this actually happened. What a gift. I would drink it in.
‘He’s no oil painting’ is one of my very favorite British expressions, Jim. The first time I heard it, a very proper English lady applied it to Prince Charles.
Thanks Andra. That lady will be in the Tower now for insulting Charlie Boy – mind you she is right.
More Tea Vicar? is a favourite of mine. Will have to weave it into something one day.
I’m sure I have met this guy. “No oil painting”, “smelled like fish” and always crying about sandwiches. Never knew he liked spicy chicken though. 😉
Thanks for the laugh.
You are welcome Michelle – many who like spicy chicken keep it as a private passion.
I’d give ’em a good junk punch for pissing on my ride. And that pain in his nuts would momentarily distract him from the pain in his heart. Win/Win.
Wise words Brian.
Damn song stuck in my head now.
A classic tear jerker -#1 over here for what seemed like years……