What’s happened to all the spare time I thought I’d have after completing Book 3? It’s a question I ponder as I leave Tom and my comfort zone and head off alone to fulfil one of my new roles serving on the committee of the Romantic Novelists' Association. I know it’s lame, but I’m pretty hopeless at finding my way round London and always dread it. Today though, I’m armed with maps and directions carefully printed for me by Tom and instructions from Rose to ignore the hurry everyone else is in and to take my time. What can go wrong?
The plan goes slightly awry at Epsom where I’ve spent the night at Ma’s. At the station I congratulate myself on picking a quiet time to travel, but, seconds before the 8.17 to Waterloo train arrives, the platform is flooded with commuters and I’m outgunned and outmanoeuvred in the rush for a seat. Well never mind, there’s enough room for me and my bag to stand out the way and I can quietly read my Kindle. Except, of course, that with every passing station more folks squeeze on to the train and soon it’s crowded and very, very hot.
Just after Vauxhall, I start to feel very uncomfortable. I try to pretend I’m okay, but now I feel really awful… stars dance in front of my eyes before everything turns black, voices fade into the distance, and I sense there’s a strong chance I’m going to be sick over everyone. What to do? For all that I keep trying to convince myself I can overcome this, I start feeling even worse so I hit the deck before it hits me, crouching down on the floor as the train rumbles along, hoping I’ll be fine. No one seems to have noticed, anyway.
I dimly hear an announcement that we’re approaching Waterloo and try to stand, but my legs are wobbly and I’m totally disorientated. And then… and then a lovely young woman taps my shoulder and asks if I’m all right, smiling at me with touching concern. She ignores my pretence that I’ll be fine in a minute, she turfs a young man out of his seat and helps me into it. She finds water in my bag and makes me drink it then hovers over me, looking after me. At Waterloo I thank her and tell her to go on her way even though there’s still concern in her eyes.
I let everyone leave and sit still, trying to brace myself for the next part of the journey. Then I hear a male voice. ‘You’re obviously in need of assistance,’ he says gently, ‘can I help?’. This kind man carries my bag for me and offering me his arm, helps me off the train and to a seat on the platform. He’s very proper, very concerned and even offers to accompany me to see that I get to my destination safely. Having reassured him that I’ll wait where I am until I feel better, I let him get on his way. As I sit there, sipping water and getting my breath back, I reflect that in a world which often seems so cold and cruel, two complete strangers took time out of their busy Monday morning commute to look after me.
I’ll probably never know who stopped to take care of me yesterday, but whoever you are, I’m truly grateful for your kindness and compassion. Thank you so much for looking after me.
The plan goes slightly awry at Epsom where I’ve spent the night at Ma’s. At the station I congratulate myself on picking a quiet time to travel, but, seconds before the 8.17 to Waterloo train arrives, the platform is flooded with commuters and I’m outgunned and outmanoeuvred in the rush for a seat. Well never mind, there’s enough room for me and my bag to stand out the way and I can quietly read my Kindle. Except, of course, that with every passing station more folks squeeze on to the train and soon it’s crowded and very, very hot.
Just after Vauxhall, I start to feel very uncomfortable. I try to pretend I’m okay, but now I feel really awful… stars dance in front of my eyes before everything turns black, voices fade into the distance, and I sense there’s a strong chance I’m going to be sick over everyone. What to do? For all that I keep trying to convince myself I can overcome this, I start feeling even worse so I hit the deck before it hits me, crouching down on the floor as the train rumbles along, hoping I’ll be fine. No one seems to have noticed, anyway.
I dimly hear an announcement that we’re approaching Waterloo and try to stand, but my legs are wobbly and I’m totally disorientated. And then… and then a lovely young woman taps my shoulder and asks if I’m all right, smiling at me with touching concern. She ignores my pretence that I’ll be fine in a minute, she turfs a young man out of his seat and helps me into it. She finds water in my bag and makes me drink it then hovers over me, looking after me. At Waterloo I thank her and tell her to go on her way even though there’s still concern in her eyes.
I let everyone leave and sit still, trying to brace myself for the next part of the journey. Then I hear a male voice. ‘You’re obviously in need of assistance,’ he says gently, ‘can I help?’. This kind man carries my bag for me and offering me his arm, helps me off the train and to a seat on the platform. He’s very proper, very concerned and even offers to accompany me to see that I get to my destination safely. Having reassured him that I’ll wait where I am until I feel better, I let him get on his way. As I sit there, sipping water and getting my breath back, I reflect that in a world which often seems so cold and cruel, two complete strangers took time out of their busy Monday morning commute to look after me.
I’ll probably never know who stopped to take care of me yesterday, but whoever you are, I’m truly grateful for your kindness and compassion. Thank you so much for looking after me.
The painting is 'St Giles in the Adverts' by Tom Tomos
Comments
Love the painting!
I know, Jan - I felt thankful not just for myself but for that reminder of how lovely people can be. xx
Grand that folks came to to your assistance. I've witnessed/participated in many such situations over the years. It's encouraging that city folks can be caring.
Hoping that your meeting went well nonetheless, and that some day one of your novels might feature some variation on that experience. What a way to meet someone, eh?
Please let Tom know how much I like his painting.
xo
Hi Frances, I can imagine that you must have witnessed a few similar scenes in your busy commute at some point. I wonder if I put that scene in a book if I'd get comment about it not being very realistic? :) Good to hear from you. Cx
Your mention of Vauxhall brought back almost-forgotten memories of my dad's first car, circa 1972. It was a Vauxhall 101. That car was a beast! He called it 'Vauxhill' because not even the steepest slope could faze it. :D
I'm so glad there were people to help you. Crowded and hot areas can be a pain. I'm also glad you weren't overcome.
So many of the headlines recently, Chanpreet, have made me sad or cross. I cannot express how grateful I am to the two people who showed me such a kindness, not just for looking after me for cheering me up!
All the women in my family faint if they have to stand too long or get hot. My mother hit the deck in H&M and my daughter in Poundland. We pick the classy places :)
Lane, we're pretty good at it too - Youngest has done A Log (yes)assembly and a bus, Eldest fainted after giving blood - the ambulance turned up and asked where the baby was as the message was that she'd given birth!
Thanks Pondside, it's immensely reassuring to know that people came to my rescue when I needed them,