Wednesday, February 03, 2010
Walking towards a girl wearing garishly floral tights.
From a distance I thought her legs were covered in crazy tattoos.
From a distance I thought her legs were covered in crazy tattoos.
Friday, November 27, 2009
7.38 Five Minutes Late
I'm struck by the trees.
It's not that I've never seen the trees before but I can't remember being so impressed as I am this morning by the way their skeletons range across the skyline. Far more imposing, leafless, than they've looked during any other season of the year.
Maybe it's a specific confluence of light and mood and weather? Maybe I've never paid enough attention to them before.
*LOW BATTERY*
I'm struck by the trees.
It's not that I've never seen the trees before but I can't remember being so impressed as I am this morning by the way their skeletons range across the skyline. Far more imposing, leafless, than they've looked during any other season of the year.
Maybe it's a specific confluence of light and mood and weather? Maybe I've never paid enough attention to them before.
*LOW BATTERY*
Labels: train
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Charmed Life
17.41 On Time
A small miracle happens: I have a table seat on the only train in the North West of England currently running to schedule. Opposite are a Dad and his five year old Daughter, who have jumped on board at the last minute.
The Dad goes to stow the luggage on the rack, The Daughter empties out her Polly Pockets and lines up a collection of GoGos on the table. The man next to me really wants to open up his laptop and get on with Something Quite Important, but between us we've managed to engage the little girl in conversation. She tells us she has forty five GoGos and seventy one Polly Pockets but most of them are at home.
We've started moving before the train manager begins his announcement. He tells us that the train is due to arrive in Glasgow on time.
The Daughter informs us that "If you were going to count to ... erm ... two hundred and fifty it would take you ...er... about a thousand years". The patient man in the seat next to me chooses not opening his laptop over snubbing a five year old.
The train manager has not quite finished:
He repeats that tonight there will be additional stops at Penrith and Lockerbie, then delivers the sucker punch - there is no guarantee that the train will get to Penrith or Lockerbie. There is severe flooding (someone whispers that there's a freight train blocking the line, someone else heard that trees were down) he will do the best he can and the M6 is also closed (he says this almost defensively, as though anticipating the "I might as well have driven" remarks he'll face as he walks down the train).
The absence of an outbreak of consternation impresses me.
The Daughter divulges that the Dad is an actor, and she hopes he's going to be the Scarecrow, because he'll have to have straw up his jumper and in his hair. The indulgent man in the seat next to me smiles and abandons his attempt to get a Bit More Work done.
I feel a fraud as I wish them good luck and, standing to leave, confess that I'm only going one stop.
A small miracle happens: I have a table seat on the only train in the North West of England currently running to schedule. Opposite are a Dad and his five year old Daughter, who have jumped on board at the last minute.
The Dad goes to stow the luggage on the rack, The Daughter empties out her Polly Pockets and lines up a collection of GoGos on the table. The man next to me really wants to open up his laptop and get on with Something Quite Important, but between us we've managed to engage the little girl in conversation. She tells us she has forty five GoGos and seventy one Polly Pockets but most of them are at home.
We've started moving before the train manager begins his announcement. He tells us that the train is due to arrive in Glasgow on time.
The Daughter informs us that "If you were going to count to ... erm ... two hundred and fifty it would take you ...er... about a thousand years". The patient man in the seat next to me chooses not opening his laptop over snubbing a five year old.
The train manager has not quite finished:
He repeats that tonight there will be additional stops at Penrith and Lockerbie, then delivers the sucker punch - there is no guarantee that the train will get to Penrith or Lockerbie. There is severe flooding (someone whispers that there's a freight train blocking the line, someone else heard that trees were down) he will do the best he can and the M6 is also closed (he says this almost defensively, as though anticipating the "I might as well have driven" remarks he'll face as he walks down the train).
The absence of an outbreak of consternation impresses me.
The Daughter divulges that the Dad is an actor, and she hopes he's going to be the Scarecrow, because he'll have to have straw up his jumper and in his hair. The indulgent man in the seat next to me smiles and abandons his attempt to get a Bit More Work done.
I feel a fraud as I wish them good luck and, standing to leave, confess that I'm only going one stop.
Labels: train
Thursday, August 13, 2009
16:44 On Time
A woman in her mid-twenties, wearing a brown leather bomber jacket, sobs silently against her mother's shoulder. After a couple of minutes she wipes her eyes and, arms around her mum's waist, they head for the exit.
Her dad walks a couple of paces behind, doing the only thing he understands right now - carrying the pink suitcase.
Come Undone - The Delgados
A woman in her mid-twenties, wearing a brown leather bomber jacket, sobs silently against her mother's shoulder. After a couple of minutes she wipes her eyes and, arms around her mum's waist, they head for the exit.
Her dad walks a couple of paces behind, doing the only thing he understands right now - carrying the pink suitcase.
Come Undone - The Delgados
Labels: train
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
16.53 Thirty Minutes Late
Five years.
So it wouldn't be surprising if I was running out of steam.
Hold Time - M Ward
Five years.
So it wouldn't be surprising if I was running out of steam.
Hold Time - M Ward
Labels: music, nostalgia, real life, train
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
17.41 On Time
The pissed-up Scot opposite hails everyone who passes his seat with an incomprehensible greeting. Other than that, he's no bother.
The dapper man who sits down next to me has the white hair and beard of a not-quite-incognito Father Christmas. He takes out his phone and begins to compose a text. He decides "Sorry I was grumpy" is too much of an admission and changes it to "I'm sorry if you thought I was grumpy".
It seems to do the trick anyway. Both of them look forward to him getting home.
Alone Again (Naturally) - Gilbert O'Sullivan
Richard Pryor Addresses A Tearful Nation - Joe Henry
City Middle - The National
Tea And Sympathy - Janis Ian
The pissed-up Scot opposite hails everyone who passes his seat with an incomprehensible greeting. Other than that, he's no bother.
The dapper man who sits down next to me has the white hair and beard of a not-quite-incognito Father Christmas. He takes out his phone and begins to compose a text. He decides "Sorry I was grumpy" is too much of an admission and changes it to "I'm sorry if you thought I was grumpy".
It seems to do the trick anyway. Both of them look forward to him getting home.
Alone Again (Naturally) - Gilbert O'Sullivan
Richard Pryor Addresses A Tearful Nation - Joe Henry
City Middle - The National
Tea And Sympathy - Janis Ian
Labels: train
Monday, June 01, 2009
8.38 Eight Minutes Late
A man on the train keeping notes in a Moleskine.
I’m jealous of the weight of his fibre tip and the firm flowing lines his fine black nib is making on the cream paper.
Pen envy.
A man on the train keeping notes in a Moleskine.
I’m jealous of the weight of his fibre tip and the firm flowing lines his fine black nib is making on the cream paper.
Pen envy.
Labels: train
Friday, May 22, 2009
16.44 Eight Minutes Late.
I'm realising it's taken me all week to get over Monday night.
Which is maybe why I'm more crotchety than I have any right to be, given that it's a Friday afternoon, and a Bank Holiday Weekend.
Because, as I try to board the train, I'm disproportionately niggled by the pair, already ensconced, who have decided to pick this precise moment to remove their luggage from the rack and open it up, rooting about for something that has become suddenly vital, thus blocking the wave of commuters attempting to take their rightful place on the early train home.
Eventually they sense the disgruntlement eddying towards them and get out of the damn way. I'm able to bag a forward facing window seat and it looks as though I'm going to get it all to myself, until the last minute when ... she flumps down next to me again, immediately expanding over the divide. Our elbows, like knitting needles, engage furiously for a few seconds, then I concede and shrink away. I can't bear her intrusion. Or her perfume which is so cloying I can taste it. She cannot sit still, again. During the fifteen minute journey she searches her bag fifteen times.
As we leave the train I rescue the woman behind me who falls victim to the game of Oranges & Lemons the Pendolino plays daily and finds herself pinioned by the door, arms at her sides, unable to reach the button and free herself. If it'd been her I would have left her stuck there until Glasgow.
Sometimes I should rein in my inner curmudgeon.
I'm realising it's taken me all week to get over Monday night.
Which is maybe why I'm more crotchety than I have any right to be, given that it's a Friday afternoon, and a Bank Holiday Weekend.
Because, as I try to board the train, I'm disproportionately niggled by the pair, already ensconced, who have decided to pick this precise moment to remove their luggage from the rack and open it up, rooting about for something that has become suddenly vital, thus blocking the wave of commuters attempting to take their rightful place on the early train home.
Eventually they sense the disgruntlement eddying towards them and get out of the damn way. I'm able to bag a forward facing window seat and it looks as though I'm going to get it all to myself, until the last minute when ... she flumps down next to me again, immediately expanding over the divide. Our elbows, like knitting needles, engage furiously for a few seconds, then I concede and shrink away. I can't bear her intrusion. Or her perfume which is so cloying I can taste it. She cannot sit still, again. During the fifteen minute journey she searches her bag fifteen times.
As we leave the train I rescue the woman behind me who falls victim to the game of Oranges & Lemons the Pendolino plays daily and finds herself pinioned by the door, arms at her sides, unable to reach the button and free herself. If it'd been her I would have left her stuck there until Glasgow.
Sometimes I should rein in my inner curmudgeon.
The Bitter End - Placebo
Labels: train
Friday, April 03, 2009
16.44 On Time
The man who stands outside the halls of residence in the morning, leaning on a shovel and watching the trains go by, was standing outside the halls of residence watching the trains go by with a small child perched on his shoulders this afternoon.
It must be 'take your toddler to work' day.
(This Is) The Dream Of Evan & Chan - Ben Gibbard
Paint It Black - Rolling Stones
Under The Blacklight - Rilo Kiley
Girl On A Train - Idiot Johnson
The man who stands outside the halls of residence in the morning, leaning on a shovel and watching the trains go by, was standing outside the halls of residence watching the trains go by with a small child perched on his shoulders this afternoon.
It must be 'take your toddler to work' day.
(This Is) The Dream Of Evan & Chan - Ben Gibbard
Paint It Black - Rolling Stones
Under The Blacklight - Rilo Kiley
Girl On A Train - Idiot Johnson
Labels: train
Thursday, March 19, 2009
7.57 On Time
IntimidatingGermanWoman smiled! With her eyes!
I’m slightly in shock, but put it down to an aberration induced by the spectacularly mild weather and the glorious sunshine.
Also, had a bit of a think and must remember to tell ThesaurusBoy to disregard all the ‘advice’ I’ve been giving him about ‘dating’ and ‘relationships’ over the last few weeks. Must also tell him why, or he will think I am simply looking for an excuse not to listen.
Minor Works – J Tillman
IntimidatingGermanWoman smiled! With her eyes!
I’m slightly in shock, but put it down to an aberration induced by the spectacularly mild weather and the glorious sunshine.
Also, had a bit of a think and must remember to tell ThesaurusBoy to disregard all the ‘advice’ I’ve been giving him about ‘dating’ and ‘relationships’ over the last few weeks. Must also tell him why, or he will think I am simply looking for an excuse not to listen.
Minor Works – J Tillman
Labels: real life, train, work
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
8.38 Three Minutes Late
Eating breakfast while watching National Rail Enquires ‘real time running’ refresh in the corner of the screen is very relaxing and just a little hypnotic.
It hasn’t yet happened that I’ve watched the train virtually pull into the station and leave, on time, without me on it, but it’s a definite maybe.
Grass - XTC
In Iverna Gardens - The Lilac Time
Ragged Wood - Fleet Foxes
Wild Wood - Paul Weller
Eating breakfast while watching National Rail Enquires ‘real time running’ refresh in the corner of the screen is very relaxing and just a little hypnotic.
It hasn’t yet happened that I’ve watched the train virtually pull into the station and leave, on time, without me on it, but it’s a definite maybe.
Grass - XTC
In Iverna Gardens - The Lilac Time
Ragged Wood - Fleet Foxes
Wild Wood - Paul Weller
Labels: train
Monday, March 09, 2009
"...railway station, train on the eastbound track"
8.38 Five Minutes Late
We're the wrong way round and going backwards without a window.
The man opposite is so busy he's making me dizzy.
He's surrounded by stationery. As fast as he puts one bundle of papers away he's pulling out another. He stuffs a green A4 file into his briefcase then produces a ledger from a carrier bag, punches numbers into a calculator - so fast it must be at random - but writes the answers down, in snaking columns, anyway.
It's Monday morning.
He can't keep this up. He'll be burned out by Wigan North Western, never mind Tuesday.
Bank Holiday Monday - Stephen Duffy
Monday Morning 5.19 - Rialto
Monday - The Jam
Monday, Monday - The Mamas and the Papas
We're the wrong way round and going backwards without a window.
The man opposite is so busy he's making me dizzy.
He's surrounded by stationery. As fast as he puts one bundle of papers away he's pulling out another. He stuffs a green A4 file into his briefcase then produces a ledger from a carrier bag, punches numbers into a calculator - so fast it must be at random - but writes the answers down, in snaking columns, anyway.
It's Monday morning.
He can't keep this up. He'll be burned out by Wigan North Western, never mind Tuesday.
Bank Holiday Monday - Stephen Duffy
Monday Morning 5.19 - Rialto
Monday - The Jam
Monday, Monday - The Mamas and the Papas
Labels: train
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
16:44 On Time
As rash statements go telling your toddler that, while the juice has run out and the crisps have run out "the tickles will never run out" is a bit of a hostage to fortune.
Sure enough, before we draw up to the platform, the tickles are over.
As rash statements go telling your toddler that, while the juice has run out and the crisps have run out "the tickles will never run out" is a bit of a hostage to fortune.
Sure enough, before we draw up to the platform, the tickles are over.
Labels: train
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
"...as I was going over the Cork and Kerry mountains"
8.38 On Time
The chap hauling a tan coloured suitcase of the type you don't really see anymore up the steps of the Pendoino has a dissolute appearance; sallow skin, bleary eyes, and dishevelled hair. The cord jacket has seen better days too. Something shakes loose in my memory and I think of the first college boy I made myself miserable over. He was dishevelled and bleary-eyed, with a cord jacket and a set of matching luggage stowed away on top of his wardrobe.
I moped over, on or around him for five months. Then stopped.
He was the sort who would either not have made it through his twenties or be running an empire by now. Or be struggling, with an overstuffed suitcase, on the steps of the Pendolino on a cold January morning after a series of unnecessary business meetings hastily arranged to facilitate an unsatisfactory Travel Lodge liaison with a woman he met on the Internet.
Or I could be wrong.
Whisky In The Jar – Thin Lizzy
The chap hauling a tan coloured suitcase of the type you don't really see anymore up the steps of the Pendoino has a dissolute appearance; sallow skin, bleary eyes, and dishevelled hair. The cord jacket has seen better days too. Something shakes loose in my memory and I think of the first college boy I made myself miserable over. He was dishevelled and bleary-eyed, with a cord jacket and a set of matching luggage stowed away on top of his wardrobe.
I moped over, on or around him for five months. Then stopped.
He was the sort who would either not have made it through his twenties or be running an empire by now. Or be struggling, with an overstuffed suitcase, on the steps of the Pendolino on a cold January morning after a series of unnecessary business meetings hastily arranged to facilitate an unsatisfactory Travel Lodge liaison with a woman he met on the Internet.
Or I could be wrong.
Whisky In The Jar – Thin Lizzy
Thursday, January 15, 2009
"...instead I'm just the flower girl, dropping petals all through this empty world"
8.38 On Time
The other problem with these Virgin trains is that fifteen minutes doesn't really give you long enough to get properly introspective about anything.
Flower Girl - Joe Henry
A problem with these Virgin trains is that once you've got settled in your seat you can't really see anyone else – especially when it's quiet and you’re right down at the far end where no one even needs to walk past. So, if no one else will occupy my time for me, what's left for a girl to do but sit and think? On top of that it’s exactly the gloomy, drizzly, chilly type of day that sets a person up for fifteen minutes of pointless introspection as they’re hurtling down the track.
I assume a suitably melancholy expression and wait pensively for the thoughts to arrive. Not much happens. I try a bit harder. Tulketh Mill glides by, then the University. Still nothing, and we're already being advised on how to open the doors and safely descend to the platform.
The other problem with these Virgin trains is that fifteen minutes doesn't really give you long enough to get properly introspective about anything.
Labels: train
Monday, January 12, 2009
Thursday, January 08, 2009
17.41 Forty Minutes Late (and counting)
17.53 Four Minutes Late
Did I mention those improved services? Oh yes. They really are worth paying for. At least I manage to get a seat. Others don't.
Glasvegas - Glasvegas
17.53 Four Minutes Late
Did I mention those improved services? Oh yes. They really are worth paying for. At least I manage to get a seat. Others don't.
Glasvegas - Glasvegas
Labels: train
8.38 On Time
The Quiet Coach is very quiet, but smells horribly of dog.
These two facts may be related.
Four school boys, walking abreast, down the middle of the street. The terraces spreading out, up and over the hill behind them, like an alternative opening scene for 'The History Boys'.
Promises – The Buzzcocks
New Amsterdam – Elvis Costello
Midnight Show – The Killers
7/4 (Shoreline) – Broken Social Scene
The Quiet Coach is very quiet, but smells horribly of dog.
These two facts may be related.
Four school boys, walking abreast, down the middle of the street. The terraces spreading out, up and over the hill behind them, like an alternative opening scene for 'The History Boys'.
Promises – The Buzzcocks
New Amsterdam – Elvis Costello
Midnight Show – The Killers
7/4 (Shoreline) – Broken Social Scene
Labels: train
Wednesday, January 07, 2009
17.41 Fifteen Minutes Late
How I love the new train fares and the improved service they bring.
The cheeky scamp sits down alongside the pretty blonde and says: "Do you want to see my draught excluder?"
I'm almost certain they were previously acquainted.
Dying Is Fine - Ra Ra Riot
Little Bit - Lykke Li
Blue And Gold Print - Mates Of State
Century Eyes - Shearwater
How I love the new train fares and the improved service they bring.
The cheeky scamp sits down alongside the pretty blonde and says: "Do you want to see my draught excluder?"
I'm almost certain they were previously acquainted.
Dying Is Fine - Ra Ra Riot
Little Bit - Lykke Li
Blue And Gold Print - Mates Of State
Century Eyes - Shearwater
Labels: train
"...so many faces in and out of my life, some will last, some will just be now and then"
8.38 Six Minutes Late.
(But, if it’s Euston you want Don’t Even Bother. ‘Change at Milton Keynes for a replacement bus service to Luton, get a train from Luton to St Pancras’. You’re never going to make that lunchtime meeting are you? Just Go Home.)
I dreamt about M last night. It must be fifteen years or more since I last saw her.
She just sort of disappeared. Dropped off the edge. There have been reports and rumours – but no confirmed sightings and no real explanation. Last night I dreamt J & I were visiting R. It was summer: late but still light, and warm, and quiet. We were in the field, waiting, although it wasn’t clear what for. Then M arrived. Looking exactly the same as the last time, when she’d just returned from the Turkish Adventure. There was a lot of hugging and crying, which is strange as we don’t do hugging and crying. Everyone was happy though.
Say Goodbye To Hollywood – Billy Joel
The Fear – Pulp
I Hope That I Don't Fall In Love With You - 10,000 Maniacs
Road To Nowhere – Talking Heads
(But, if it’s Euston you want Don’t Even Bother. ‘Change at Milton Keynes for a replacement bus service to Luton, get a train from Luton to St Pancras’. You’re never going to make that lunchtime meeting are you? Just Go Home.)
I dreamt about M last night. It must be fifteen years or more since I last saw her.
She just sort of disappeared. Dropped off the edge. There have been reports and rumours – but no confirmed sightings and no real explanation. Last night I dreamt J & I were visiting R. It was summer: late but still light, and warm, and quiet. We were in the field, waiting, although it wasn’t clear what for. Then M arrived. Looking exactly the same as the last time, when she’d just returned from the Turkish Adventure. There was a lot of hugging and crying, which is strange as we don’t do hugging and crying. Everyone was happy though.
Say Goodbye To Hollywood – Billy Joel
The Fear – Pulp
I Hope That I Don't Fall In Love With You - 10,000 Maniacs
Road To Nowhere – Talking Heads
