18.03 I boarded the train from York To Edinburgh
18.05 The guy across the aisle says words to the effect of "Hello, nice to meet you!" Surprised by the friendliness of normally mute commuters I reply and strike up conversation
18.08 After countless repetitions of: my name, "have a good time at the fringe Tom" and "you're nice Tom" occasionally peppered with "I hope you have a nice life Tom" I start to get worried about this old Aberdonian especially as when the conversation naturally ends he restarts it with said phrases
18.10 My worries are confirmed when he asks for my number, I give it to him but I switch digits. I feel bad
18.20 He finds out I am going to the fringe, he says he will come down and visit me.
18.40 I feel bad for bitching about him on Facebook, Twitter and here, as well as giving him a false number so I give him a bun.
19.05 He moves across the aisle to sit next to me, as I type about him. He doesn't notice, but asks me to send a Happy Birthday text to his friend. I do so, but after sending realise that his "friend" will now have my number
19.15 He sings hymns
19.20 He repeats "there is a God"...to himself.....loudly. Damn Christians!
19.28 He offers me his blackcurrant juice...nice gesture but I feel it could be drugged. I decline, but wonder if I am being too harsh on this man
19.30 He pulls what appears to be a child's picture book out of his bag and starts to read about princesses. This could be the basis for a poem...
20.20 We pull into Edinburgh and thinking that he may follow me off the train, I leave the seat early. It is good that I do so as he delays me for five whole minutes, shaking my hand and telling me how glad he is to have met me, and how I am his friend. Scared, and worried that the sweat dripping from my hands might moisten his palms and give away the fact that I've lied to him for four hours, I politely smile and nod my head. He also reminds me that he will be coming down to visit me - repeatedly, and tells me to ring him any time I want to chat. He could be such a nice man if he wasn't clearly mad.
No comments:
Post a Comment