Me, in my working cobber

                                            Brief Encounter

Some days are not good days, that is to say they are bad days by accident. This was a bad day by accident. Well it did not start out like that, you don’t exactly set out to kill someone but from time to time you feel like it. I was 0 К when I got up, it was just the same routine, out of bed, toilet, make up, dress, have a snack for breakfast, get the car out and make it to the station, wait for the train.

The platform was crowded with the usual gang, I nodded to the ones I knew, that is to say recognised, I didn't actually know any of them, butI felt they were comrades in arms against vagaries of the railway system! The regulars stood in the same position every day, they knew precisely to the inch where the train doors stopped so they could step aboard and get straight into their regular seats.

Although I didn’t know their names I had a nick name for each one; there was Weasel,  Terrier, Schoolmarm, Mortician, and so on, just as each one struck me. All were dressed in a business way, after all they were on their way to the Metropolis to conduct business, and some how it felt right to dress the part. The dressing down had not worked, seemed to lack authority, but I think it was a sense of lack of self esteem, the business suit was like a uniform or a badge, it kind of said who and what you were.

           I saw the stranger, well sort of registered him, after all anyone is allowed to travel, but one felt a slight tension at the sight someone unfamiliar because they somehow threatened the accepted protocol of boarding the train. It had somehow come to be accepted the Mortician got on first, this was a kind of respect for his age and patrician air, and would allow him to get to his regular seat.

A stranger would not know of this and hence disrespect his standing, and even worse get on first and sit in his seat! Not that this mattered in itself, but it would invoke tension that we would all feel for the rest of the journey, and what we wanted was relaxation, a kind of meditation, that allowed the mind to carry on in a somnambulistic way.

Any rate whilst I was idly contemplating how this would work out the stranger walked up and stood right next to me. Now this is a strange human condition, I was affronted that he should deliberately occupy my space, I felt threatened, it was a kind of challenge to the superiority I felt over others, suddenly I might have to prove it.

You might think that this a ridiculous psychological condition to get into waiting for a train, and it does seem to be a typically English reaction, that we are insular and to even recognise a stranger by eye contact, much less speak, would somehow give access to our private inner selves, you know, like the natives who will not give you their

real names because this will give you power over them! Well I am not affected by that, I thought, so I looked him straight in he eye — I now know what the natives meant!

           ‘The seven thirty five for Kings Cross will be delayed 15 minutes due to signal work at York, we apologise to customers for any inconvenience that this may cause.’ The announcement kind of slid across the back of my mind as I stared into his eyes and felt myself being mesmerised by deep brown eyes framed by dark lashes that I would die for. ’Not again!’ That collective cry brought my back to my senses, but not before a flush started to spread up from my throat, and my bum felt uncomfortably hot!  

Heavens, I thought he’s got inside my pants, and we are only standing on the station, should I succumb? Hold on just a minute, I’m a cool thirty five year old business woman who’s been there before, who’s well aware of these smooth operators trying to seduce ladies of a certain age, there are plenty in the City, but hang on just maybe I ought to indulge myself.....what a daft flight of fancy! 

 'Is it always this late?'

The question kind of confused me,

‘It’s never this early!’ I muttered, misunderstanding the point.

‘Oh I see,’ he replied with an amused look on his face.

I hope you don’t I thought, or I'm a gonna.

’This is where the first class stops,’ I said, trying to
regain some superiority in this encounter.

’Oh good, I wondered where I should stand,
this is my first time you know,’ he countered, ”where do you sit?’

'I have a reserved seat, every day,’ I added the second part to show that I was an

old hand at this, and didn’t fall for any Wise guy.

”Oh that's all right, I’m not getting on, I’m waiting for my mother!’

          ’Here it comes’

It was not so much a shout as an expulation of sound from a
hundred exasperated souls. I stood rooted to the spot, waiting for his mother, indeed!

Didn’t he know he had sexually assaulted me, well in the my libido if not physically. The
feeling of joyous anticipation turned to spurned anger, I was a City girl, how dare he play
with my sexual desires in such an overt way. I angrily pushed him aside to assert my
position to get on the train, others, mistaking my intention, pushed forward behind me,
and that’s When it happened.

          No on saw it, well you wouldn’t , would you. In the melee it happened so
quick, he was there and then he wasn’t. He’d fallen, or more exactly, been inadvertently
pushed over the edge of the platform. He was OK but his mother died of a heart attack!

          It was not exactly a good day!