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Trains Aren't So Bad

Friday, 6 August 2010 Leave a Comment


Photo credit: hotblack from morguefile.com



My boyfriend gets tired of me moaning about the train and how annoying it is to have to get up so early to travel an hour on a stinking, disease filled, tin can. Well this week it seemed like I was going to be taught a lesson on life - via public transport...

Wednesday Morning - Perfect Stranger... Or Not!
I was late up, my hair was like a bird’s nest and I had puffy eyes from a lack of sleep. I looked like Id just spent the night in a hedge. It would be an understatement to say that I felt awful, looked awful and I was just about to get on a train with fifty business men and women, all dressed beautifully with their slick hair and perfect pinstripe suits. Great, that made me feel a whole lot better about myself! I picked one of the few available seats by the window and buried my head in a book. I’d gone one stop when a swarve, arrogant looking, stockbroker type sat in the seat opposite. Not a bad looking guy but boy did he know it! He made me look like a slob. After about 3 more stops I gave up on the book and looked up to see the tall, smartly dressed man slumped against the window asleep with a huge stream of dribble making its way from his mouth to his chin. I had to physically try to stem the laughter building inside me. Here was me thinking I was the only one, who was less than perfect, and here was this guy who thought he was perfect but clearly he was just Homer Simpson in a suit. That showed me not to judge a book by its cover.

Thursday Morning - Letter To Home
Here we go again, I was even more miserable than the day before. Although, I was looking more like a human that day. I’d managed to do my hair and make up with some degree of success, but I just didn't want to go to work. I was having an “I can’t be bothered day.” I was sat there, staring out of the window at an endless blur of green, wishing I didn't have to go to work, wishing for my bed. Then I caught the reflection of a young woman opposite me, writing in a notebook with a huge fluffy pink pen. I was bored; I decided I would allow myself only one quick look at what she was writing. In one hand she clutched a photograph of a house. I realised I was being nosey but I just couldn't resist. I read the first few lines before I tore myself away to give her some privacy. It read...

Dear Family,
  I am well; this is a picture of my house, my home in England. I feel so lucky, I have a good job, and for the first time in my life I feel respectable, free.

...I didn't read anymore, I realised that I had been taking what I had for granted, I moaned about a life, a job that less fortunate people would do anything for. I felt guilty. It was clear after reading this that she had come to England to start a better life. It was one of the best things I have ever read, and though she didn't know it, that woman made my day and taught me to be thankful for what I have. So boyfriend, you get your wish; I won’t moan about the train, the rude ticket man, the woman who sneezed in my face or the early mornings... well maybe I will moan a little, just not quite as much.

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1 comments »

  • Wynn said:  

    That's quite lovely! But I seem to miss out on the buisness attire and just get all the slobs instead.

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