A letter from the 11:48 Paddington to Carmarthen

Tony Curtis

The Queen Elizabeth line delivers me remarkably smoothly to Paddington with an hour to spare before I catch the GWR direct service from Paddington to Carmarthen. My early arrival was planned to ensure I had enough time to take a selfie of myself with the statue of Paddington Bear, for my grandchildren you understand.

The concourse of Paddington was a bustling sea of people heading purposely in multiple directions while miraculously avoiding any collisions with fellow travellers. I just stood still for a few moments to initially get my breath back but also to familiarise myself with the station’s layout.

I quickly realised that this non-moving action of mine appeared to cause a certain amount of frustration with people as they manoeuvred around me, I noticed several scowls and heard just as many loud huffs. So, I took the hint and started to walk aimlessly along with this throng.

In my eyeline a very tall policeman appeared about fifty yards ahead, I took a deep breath and aimed for him. I felt like a heated molecule in a petri dish science experiment. He must have spotted me heading in his direction with a purposeful look on my face, our eyes locked and taking inspiration from Star Trek I imagined an invisible tractor beam bringing us together.

‘Can you tell me where the Paddington Statue is please?’ I asked him.

‘Haven’t got a clue mate, this isn’t my normal beat, just been drafted in to make up numbers, I suggest you go to the enquires desk over there and ask.’

I thanked him and looked for the enquiries desk, I spotted it along with the ten deep queue of people all waiting to ask the single attendant behind the desk their various questions.

My heart sank. I looked around again and saw a signpost for the loos so I headed for them instead and low and behold there was Paddington’s statue standing regally alongside them.

My attempts of taking a selfie with this bear attracted the attention of two very kind smiling girls who offered to take a photo for me, I graciously and very thankfully accepted their offer. I think my arms must be too short to take selfies I told them… they looked sympathetically at me as only the younger generation can when technology is involved. Anyway, I was extremely grateful to them.

As I still had over half an hour before my train I headed for a coffee and to find a seat near a notice board so I could keep an eye on my train. One thing I really enjoy is people watching, so I sat, sipped my so called ‘small’ Americano and observed.

Tribe

Goodness me humans are an interesting bunch of people. If I had to put myself in a tribe I really do not know where I would fit in or even which tribe would accept me… I was still musing over that issue when the information board told me my platform was no.4. I discarded the remains of my coffee – in a suitably labelled bin – and headed for the platform.

The gates still weren’t open and a multitude waited patiently, then in a scene typical of the Grand National the ticket barriers opened, and everyone was off at almost a gallop.

I was never built for speed so I ambled along the platform behind everyone. I hadn’t booked a seat so as in a game of chance I choose a carriage half way along and hoped there was a seat free. And indeed, I found a window seat with the green and available light above it.

I sighed in relief, got my book out and settled in to enjoy it and the journey to Carmarthen. I’m currently reading Mike Herron’s Slow Horses series. A while ago my children renamed me Jackson Lamb who features in these books, lucky I have a sense of humour but I did get a haircut.

The train soon filled and a steady stream of seatless travellers walked the aisle looking for a seat, which they would have found if people took their belongings off the seat alongside them thereby taking up two seats. Is it me?

One of these culprits sat in the row in front of me whose belongings spilled across two seats, apart from that selfish act he starts speaking loudly on his bloody phone.

‘Just about to leave the station, I’ve taken a sickie to get the time off, got to get a doctor’s note now. All I’ve eaten  is fries so bought myself a steak pie in Sainsburys. Where will the taxi be? This train is a quick one. I need to put my pyjamas in the wash straight away. She’s been good to you lot. I didn’t know I was coming. Just bought a choccy bar for £2.45 but mind you its big. Will you get up early with me to make her breakfast?

These were just a few one liners I could remember.

Monologue

I almost lost the will to live; reading was out of the question with this continual loud monologue going on. I looked at the young girl seated next to me and we both just raised our eyebrows, an expression that spoke volumes.

The train smoothly departed Paddington, this section of the journey is electrified, no dirty diesel engines here spewing out exhaust fumes, this they save until we pass Cardiff.

I resign myself to study the view outside the window. It appears to be a sprawling development of offices and industrial parks with the occasional housing estate. I’m thinking about the daily treadmill people must get on to live and work here when the train slows to enter Reading Station.

I am immediately blown away by the huge investment that has clearly been recently spent on it. It looks truly impressive. As we resume our journey, I study the countryside that has now replaced the previous view.

Farmland always interests me, and in this part of England the fields look manicured. I saw hardly any livestock to speak of apart from horses. Even the trackside trees here had been trimmed to an inch of their life so no problem with leaves on the tracks here I thought.

The one-sided phone caller in front at last stopped, instead there was some rustling in his Sainsburys bag and a bottle of white wine was produced along with a plastic cup. He poured a large cup full, replaced the bottle and opened his phone again. But not to speak to anyone but to play an on-line casino game.

I bade farewell to the girl next to me as she got up to leave at Bristol Parkway. Quite a few other  passengers left here, but I could see on the platform plenty waiting to board the train.

A group of about half a dozen young men took what empty seats were behind me. I could tell by the volume of their conversation they had already been to the pub. It soon became apparent they were going to Cardiff for the rest of the day, where they would meet their mates in ‘Spoons’ but only after doing a couple of ‘lines’. It must be my age but it took me a while for the penny to drop what was meant by these lines.

Sympathy

I eventually lost the ‘Monologue Man’ in Swansea. My initial feeling of anger towards this man had changed to a more sympathetic outlook. I chided myself for making perhaps too hasty an opinion of him.

The countryside was now far more familiar, in a strange way it was reassuring to see the sheep, rougher fields, bent blackthorn hedges and the rain.

The train was on time as it arrived into Carmarthen, by now the rain was relentless as we walked along the open platform and over the tracks and along the other open platform to the way out.

I offered to help a woman using a walking stick to carry her case on this obstacle course to exit the station. As I walked my thoughts went back to the investment spent on Reading station and I sighed.