Friday, September 21, 2007
It was a late night.
We didn't get in till two, but I didn't drink much, which is how I've made it out in time for the Early Train.
The hot topic on the platform is whether anyone has heard the train go down the line yet; we agree that if we didn't (and we didn't) it was because of the rain. We agree that the mornings are getting dark and that the evening train has been extra busy for a week or so, but that a couple of cancellations will sort out the wheat from the chaff and make more room for us die-hards. We agree that it's the wrong kind of rain, and all this agreement brings us closer together, as we huddle beneath the meagre shelter which is the best that 'Northern' can provide.
KnittingWoman switches seats and is directly in front of me for a change. She's still making the matinee jacket, although it's looking so big now that I'm beginning to question that it is a matinee jacket but - so white and so lacy - what else would be? I'm hypnotised by the movement of the needles and watch, trying to work out the pattern. Just when I think I might have it sussed she pauses, checks her work and unpicks the last half dozen stitches. That wool is so fine; those needles so thin - it doesn't look like a whole lot of fun.
Our Song - Joe Henry
Tiny Vessels - Death Cab For Cutie
Sold - Joe Henry
Transatlanticism - Death Cab For Cutie
Tiny Voices - Joe Henry