The topic is ‘train’

There are so many silly little things which really annoy me – the phrase ‘back in the day‘, also ‘oh my days!‘, and why are things ‘gifted’, not given? Also, why do so many answers in interviews begin with ‘So…‘?  Another also, also why do people ‘turn’ on their birthdays – why do they ‘turn eighteen‘ and not become eighteen? I’m so tolerant of most things, but spit feathers at small things!

Moving on… It’s writing group on Tuesday and I am pleased with myself because I have written my piece and not left it until a quarter to midnight the night before we meet. The topic is ‘train’ – which could mean a railway train, or it could be a bridal train, it could involve someone training for something, it could be a wagon train, a cattle train, to train something on something – such as a weapon/pair of binoculars/telescope , and there are numerous songs, films, books and even poems about trains.

Our group is a talented bunch of original thinkers and great writers, and trying to be original and different is a challenge. I’ve written here many times about my travels on trains, and I re-shared a couple of stories recently. I’ve been really thinking about writing group, pondering on what to write, and today (three days before the meeting) I settled down and wrote a story. It was quite simple, I was drawing on my own memories. I went to college in Manchester and the only way to get there from where I lived in Weston-super-Mare was by train, so I had many journeys. I remembered cold trains and even colder platforms, long waits, interesting fellow passengers, tedious delays, funny events, those pleasant journeys when all went smoothly and I stared out of the window at the countryside and towns flashing past.

I started my story with a person similar to me, a student travelling home in winter, waiting on a deserted platform, late at night. I don’t actually specify when it takes place, but I hope it is clear it’s many, many years ago. Her connection had been cancelled and it would be a long cold wait until the next morning’s milk train stopped and then took her onwards. I used to have a long woollen coat, and I imagined my character wearing it, pulling the collar up round her ears because she had no hat or scarf. The waiting room and the toilets had been locked, there were no mobile phones, nothing to be done except be patient. As she waited she thought about other journeys she’d been on and the amusing and interesting things which had happened to her. She’s joined on the deserted platform by a couple of other passengers, two men a little older than herself, one of whom found a way into the waiting room through a window which hadn’t been properly latched. The student also climbed through the window, out of the biting wind. She sat at the other end of the room from the young men who took out their guitars and began to play as she fell asleep. The milk train arrived, they get on board in separate carriages, and that’s it, that’s the story.

It may seem sparse in content, but I hope it has sufficient detail, her train journey stories, the differences i hope to suggest between travelling in the 1960’s and travelling now. This is the penultimate sentence: ‘Without a word of farewell we got into separate carriages, and I fell asleep in the warm, smokey comfort of my onward journey, homeward bound.’ I wonder if anyone will pick up a hint in there – ‘Homeward Bound’ is of course a  Simon and Garfunkel song, written by Paul Simon while being marooned on Widnes station. I’m not suggesting the two men in my story are Simon and Garfunkel, but it’s a little nod to part of my inspiration!