Either way, I know there must be somebody out there who shares my love for the station. For a lot of people, the train station is a dismal place, reeking of packed-out carriages, delays, cancelled journeys, tired businessmen on their way to work, and toilets that you can barely sit on to produce anything.
But for me, it's a world of magic and wonderment. I'm not even a train spotter. And it's not just the physical side of things, though that is pretty entrancing in itself. The rumble of the great machine as it speeds it's way to the platform, the apparent divide in the waiting area between the smokers and the readers (I happen to manage both at the same time), the humorous antics of the drunken Friday night lot. I don't condone bending over the platform edge and throwing up on the tracks, but the phonecalls they make to their wives are quite entertaining.
It's the sentimentality of it as well. Some of you will now decide that you're dealing with a moron and rightfully click away from the page and look at poetry, or check your Facebook, but some of you might understand.
I can't forget it. To tell the truth, it haunts me. And yet... not in the harrowing way that haunting is meant to be. It's more like... being haunted by an angel. I'd been on a few trainrides before, and yes, I've had my fair share of cancellations, 30-minute delays and miserable cups of coffee in the rain whilst going up in smoke, but this time was different. My first journey to see him. Going by train, that is. Not with our friend to pick me up and drive me the 40 minutes to where they both lived, but just me, on carriage C, scuttling up the tracks to see him, James. The person I now want to spend the rest of my life with and... okay okay, don't switch off!
But it is true. And after that journey, there were many more, with him meeting me at the huge glorious Victorian station on the other side, me having left from the comforting yet up-to-date little station of my hometown.
When he moved away, the train journeys were even longer. But it didn't bother me one bit. With every little bump on the track we went over, I was closer to seeing him. But then... on the way back, with every little bump, I was further away. But the next time I went to the station...
I was meeting him. And now we're living together
So there's not as much need for the station now, you see, and that's the only thing I miss about him living so far away before. The excitement. The characters you meet. The faces you come to familiarise yourself with. The pathetic yet amusing little thrill of knowing all the stops of your journey in order. Look - Cheltenham Spa, Bristol Parkway, Bristol Temple Meads, Tiverton Parkway, Taunton, Exeter St. Davids.
The sadness. People shedding little tears as they hug goodbye. The lonely boyfriend or girlfriend, watching as the carriages holding their loved ones crawl out of sight. Knowing you have to say goodbye in 2.4 minutes as the voice over the tannoy announces "Exeter St. Davids, this is Exeter St. Davids. The train now approaching Platform 1 is the 18.05 First Great Western Service to..." home. That's where you're headed now, girl.
But there's also the happiness. Small children running to their father as he climbs off the train after a long week working away on business. Boyfriends meeting girlfriends and vice versa, girlfriends meeting girlfriends, boyfriends meeting boyfriends. The old couple whose love has never faded. Friends coming to collect their tired, travel-worn companions and pointing out where the car is. Family members giving a knowing smile as the train draws near.
And whilst all this happens, I sit on the bench, look up from my book and take in everything around me. And if nobody's looking, I smile.
I like to remember it that way.
"Cheltenham, this is Cheltenham. The train now approaching Platform 1 is the 16.42 First Great Western Service to Plymouth. Calling at Bristol Parkway, Bristol Temple Meads..."
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