41. Brief Encounter

I had an encounter at a railway station the other day.  It was brief.

We don’t have an underground station in Winchmore Hill but we do have a rail link to Moorgate in the City of London.  The service is fast with the journey to Moorgate only taking 28 minutes.  Winchmore Hill railway station was built in 1871 and hasn’t altered very much since.  During the early morning we have trains scheduled at 13, 33 and 53 minutes past every hour.

Caroline catches a train from here to go to work on most days but I rarely use it.  I don’t go into central London very often and only do so when I really must.  One morning, I had to go into London and so Caroline and I went together.  

When we arrived at 7:05, the platform was, according to Caroline, more crowded than usual.  A number of people stood, strung out at intervals along most of the length of it.

A notice board suddenly became illuminated and informed us that the 6:53 was expected at 7:09.  Trains were running late.  From the 70 or more people standing there, shivering in the cold morning air, solitary and private, there was an audible hum of expectation that just managed to break the prevailing silence.  

There was no mention of the 7:13, which was the train that we were expecting to catch but that wasn’t an issue as we would be able to get on the 6:53 in just four minutes time.

As we all stood there staring expectantly up the line, the board lit up again and this time told us that the 7:13 was also delayed and was anticipated at 7:20.  All the time, more and more people were coming down the steps from the ticket office at the rate of around twenty every minute.  Now, we were informed that the 6:53 would be with us at 7:18.

“The 6:53 is going faster than the 7:13,” I told Caroline.  “It’s catching it up.  It’s only nine minutes behind it.”  

The platform was getting very crowded and Caroline began playing a game on her phone to pass the time.  We stood in silence for several minutes and I thought how different it would be if something similar could ever happen in Cayman. 

It couldn’t of course because commuters there all travel by car, cycle on the wrong side of the road or walk, as there are no trains.  I would have certainly made two or three new close friends and would probably be turning down dinner invitations too, by now.

The silence was broken by someone clumping noisily down the metal staircase.  Down the steps came a middle-aged woman with an expression of intense fury on her face.  “This is outrageous!” she announced to no one in particular.  “Outrageous!  There are no complaint forms!  How can I complain without a form?  I’ll write to the Regulator – or The Guardian!”  

The outraged lady stopped and stood next to me.  “There’s someone meeting me at Finsbury Park,” she said after a minute or two, looking at me directly.

“Oh,” I said, smiling a little nervously.  Caroline took a couple of paces backwards, as she always does when a nutter befriends me and that happens a lot.  What is it about me that makes misfits and angry people think that I am sympathetic to their weird thoughts and ideas?  I looked away from her, hoping that she would move on.

People had stopped coming down the steps as the platform was very crowded now and the gate at the top must have been closed.  Another message appeared on the board.  The next train would be at 7:35 and another at 7:38.

“Yes, but which is which?” demanded the angry lady of everyone within 20 feet of her.  Some people sniggered.  I thought that it was funny too but as she was directing her anger straight at me, I kept a straight face and just shrugged.

“It doesn’t really matter does it?” I asked her quietly.  “Just get on the first one.”  

“Doesn’t matter?  Doesn’t matter!  Oh, but it does matter, young man.  I’m being met at Finsbury Park, you know.”

“I’m sure he’ll wait for both trains,” I said.

“She,” she snapped.  “She’s expecting me on the 6:53. What happens if the 7:13 gets there first?”

“It can’t,” I said, trying to explain gently.  “It’s not like a motorway.  Trains can’t overtake one another.  You’ll be all right.”

In the distance a train appeared.  We all stood and watched it getting larger and larger for over a minute as it approached.  A railway employee walked by.

“What train’s this?” my new friend enquired, impatiently.

He looked up at the station clock.

“This will be the 7:33,” he said.  “It’s a little late.”

“SEE?” she shouted at me.  “SEE?  I’ve missed my train.  My day’s ruined!”

I said nothing but I turned and walked down the platform to get away from her, as the prospect of having her ranting at me, trapped in the same carriage for twenty minutes, was too awful to risk.  Caroline followed, giggling.  We got on but I don’t know if the woman did.  I assume she didn’t. 

All the seats were taken and we had to stand.  

“She called me ‘young man’,” I said.

“Ha, so she’s blind as well as bonkers,” Caroline sighed.