Sinister: One dayI will get up early and steal back everything stolen from me

[Sunny set]

I like train journeys. I like going somewhere slightly exciting or doing 
something a little bit different.
I like sitting with my head against the window and music in my ears watching 
fields change into cities and cities change into beaches.
It is nice to rush past people walking their dogs, or flying kites or 
playing football and to see something you would otherwise miss whilst 
sitting staring out of the window at home.
I am patient with delays. Up to a point at least, I'm no saint after-all. I 
can sit on the platform watching freight train passing through and signs 
hung on chains dancing in the wind. I listen to the echo of the tannoy, the 
sound of children playing, and the whistle of wind as a train leaves the 
station.

5 years ago I hated trains. I hated a specific hour long train journey from 
my home in Shrewsbury to Birmingham where that year I was working.
Each morning I caught the same train into work, and usually the same train 
home again.  On a good day I would get a seat by the window facing forwards, 
the train would leave and arrive on time and would be relatively warm.

Even on good days each journey was clouded with tiredness, and with 
frustration and the sense that my life was slipping away somewhere 
approaching Wolverhampton.

I envied the commuters who lived 20 minutes further along the line. I envied 
people travelling for fun even more. They stood on the platform at 7.00am 
bright eyed and excited. I stood there shivering, with permenent bags 
surrounding my eyes.

As the winter turned into summer the days became longer and colour seeped 
back into my life.
I heard "me and the major" for the first time and started to imagine the 
friendships I could have with my fellow passengers.
There was the old time commuter who drank a cup of coffee each morning 
before falling asleep with his mouth open. The thirty somethings who sat 
around a table for four, flirting madly whilst boasting about there jobs. 
There was even a young girl who may or may not have dreamt of horses. I 
became fond of the familiar faces.

Life moves on, as did I. I wonder how many of those people still catch the 
same train into work. Maybe one day I will get up early one day and stand on 
the platform bright eyed and excited and steal back everything Wolverhampton 
ever took from me.

Take Care,
Rachel

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