Awake and saturated in sweat. Yet another night’s sleep fractured by anxiety dreams about travelling. Struggling to reach my destination whilst frantically attempting to overcome insurmountable hurdles.
A psychologist would no doubt say my dreams were symbolic and were not actually about travel. No, they were definitely about travel!
Preparation was a way of reducing my stress levels, which included arriving at the station an hour before departure for any long journey.
The Truro to Paddington train had been on time and I was looking forward to absorbing myself into writing a short story on my tablet. This had the added advantage that being ensconced in my work I would be less likely to be bothered by the inane chatter of passengers hoping to strike up a conversation. The year before having spent three hours seated next to a garrulous man who regaled me with his life story, peppered with inappropriate jokes and anecdotes amplified by a grating voice.
This approach worked perfectly well for the first two hours, making excellent progress with my writing and time was speeding passed as quickly as the towns. A succession of assorted passengers sat beside me at various points in the journey and didn’t interact with me at all. Great the plan was working!
At Newton Abbott a rather well-groomed mature woman clutching a mini bottle of red wine sat beside me. Pointing at the wine and joking that she wasn’t really an ‘alcoholic’, but it was the start of a very special weekend. From the distinctive muted quality in her voice I recognised she must be deaf, and she confirmed this by asking if would look directly at her so that she could lip-read. Part of me was thrilled, having recently completed a sign language course I was keen to ‘show off’ my new skill.
Somewhere between Newton Abbot and Exeter the train stalled and spluttered a couple of times before silence. The Tannoy flickered into action.
“Apologies, we are currently having a technical fault with the train. We are working hard to fix this, please bear with us”.
As this was one of the brand-new computerised trains I felt certain it would soon be rectified. My glamorous fellow passenger, who I now knew to be Patsy, was oblivious to the announcement, so I signed this to her. We looked at each other and both shrugged our shoulders resignedly. She trotted off to buy another mini bottle of red wine from the on-board refreshments. I engrossed myself back into my story writing.
Another announcement over the Tannoy.
“We are going to turn the train ‘off and on’ to re-set it. The lights will go out temporarily. If anyone is in the loo……. err……can you hurry up…….”
We laughed in unison at this somewhat panicked and ill thought out announcement. Patsy looked around her bemused at the laughing faces, however I didn’t have the signing skills to relay the reason for this amusement.
Two hours after our train had come to a halt, it became apparent we would be held here for some time as a technician had been sent for to fix the problem. I headed to the refreshments trolley to stock up with more water before their supplies were exhausted. I joked with a friendly young woman that hopefully they would get the problem resolved soon and we wouldn’t have to resort to cannibalism.
That takeaway I was looking forward to sharing with my husband back in London would have to be put on hold. The 12-inch pizza passed around the carriage didn’t exactly sate my craving or go very far between 30 people. I chuckled to myself imagining the look on the pizza delivery driver’s face given the destination as a train halfway between Newton Abbot and Exeter!
It was then that I began to observe my fellow passengers in more detail. All of life was reflected in the diversity of the passengers surrounding me.Two young women excitedly discussed their onward plans. They were due to stay at a friend’s house in London before heading off to catch a 5.00am flight from Heathrow airport. Contemplating whether it was worth in fact going to sleep at all. A young baby in another row of seats was tenderly rocked to sleep by its father. A middle-aged man with a form of Tourette’s Syndrome began to swear loudly and repeatedly, apparently upset by the delay. His carer patiently attempting to placate him by saying “Everyone’s in the same boat!” – train I thought to myself! Patsy, was of course oblivious to his expletives and the conversations surrounding her, being in her own silent world.
Another two hours had passed, more announcements were made over the Tannoy with no change in status. It was clear now that this was a much more serious problem. My fears were confirmed when two policeman adorning fluorescent yellow vests boarded the train and walked down the aisle towards the driver’s carriage whilst asking if anyone was disabled.
A frisson of activity and excited talk erupted between us, as there was only one reason for them asking this pertinent question. We would have to evacuate the train! Feeling a wave of panic begin to rise in my chest, imagining the walk along a railway track in the dead of night. My recurring dreams seemed to be evolving into reality. Calming myself with the thought that I was neither disabled, elderly or had a child on, or in my person. Being surrounded by others less able than myself somehow imbued me with a confidence. I would have to ‘step up to the plate’.
Now at 10pm it was 8 hours since I set off on this seemingly endless journey. The floodlights were already set up to illuminate our night time manoeuvres and the emergency services were ready and waiting for us to disembark. 400 people were to climb down the narrow ladder, walk along the track and ascend another ladder onto the train ahead.
Patsy was very nervous as her hearing defect meant that she loses her balance in the dark. Scary enough for the average person, this proved too much for her and after her wobbly ascent onto the train she collapsed into my arms. I guided her to an empty seat and fortunately after a few minutes she revived sufficiently.
The train was finally replete with its passengers. It was 12.45am and we still had another two and a half hours until we would arrive at Paddington.A young man joined the train at Reading, smartly dressed and well over the Government’s recommended alcohol units, probably for the entire week! He embarked on an ill-advised conversation with his neighbour who responded by pulling his hoodie up to cover his face. Apparently, he wasn’t in the mood for small talk! After this less than subtle rejection, his attention turned to me for company. His opening gambit was a polite question to ask where I was from, followed by the much weightier subject that his father had no pension plan and would be relying solely on him to fund his retirement. As I didn’t have a hoodie to pull up over my face, I listened politely to what he had to say.
At 3.00am and 12 and three-quarter hours into my journey, I now found myself counselling a young stranger on his big life decisions. Asking me who he could turn to, finding life in a big city difficult and stressful. At that point I was glad I hadn’t been wearing a hoodie. I continued to listen to him as he offloaded his problems, proffering the occasional morsel of advice. Afterwards I wondered how he would cope with the travails of life and realised how lonely this young man obviously was.
It was now 3.15am and after 13 hours travelling the train finally shunted into a ghostly Paddington station. A group of dishevelled, exhausted passengers stepped off the train.
Although this journey had been long and exhausting, I somehow felt exhilarated. Maybe it was because the very thing I had dreaded happened and it wasn’t that bad after all. I haven’t experienced a travel anxiety dream since. Although the last couple of nights I’ve been having a dream about my handbag being stolen.
Stephanie Scala ©
Life's a Glitch 