![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lupestripeThere are a lot of things to catch up on really but I want to share with you the events of Thursday night for no other real reason than personal interest.
On the train down to Wolfie's, we had a jumper at Northallerton station. This held the train up outside the station whilst the authorities cleaned up the mess (after investigating it assumedly). It's always interesting to observe the mindset of other passengers when someone has ended their life by jumping in front of a train. It usually goes:
First 15 minutes - shock
Next 30 minutes - sympathy
Any time thereafter - anger that this "selfish bastard" has dared to interfere with my travel plans.
Indeed I have always found the boundary between this sympathy and anger a curious one. Effectively, someone has lost a life in such a tragic way yet push the ego so far and it will revert to thinking of itself. This means that it can only be empathetic for so long before the inconvenience of being delayed takes hold and you want to get to where you were going, with every passing minute merely building up the frustration in your own mind. After all, no one likes being helpless yet the ironic thing about the situation is that it grew from the helplessness of somebody else, who was forced into committing the act in the first place.
Anyway, I was quite relaxed on Thursday and the delay didn't bother me. In all honesty, it became a little bit of an adventure and a very interesting way to observe the idiosyncracies of different people.
On the train, there were three of us - myself, a long haired lover from York and a rough as badgers lady from Hartlepool. Upon hearing the news of a fatality on the line, all she could think about was the fact that her stir fry that her "carer" had cooked her would now be all stuck together because she wouldn't get back in time to eat it. Apparently, she didn't like heated up food. She had an argument with the train guard (who to be fair did everything in his power to ensure that we would be as unaffected as possible due to the incident) who accused her of being "a very sympathetic young lady". The long haired guy said nothing and just doodled.
The plan was then formulated that we would go to Darlington and take a taxi from there. Why not Yarm, Thornaby or Eaglescliffe - all with taxi firms and all closer to where we were than Darlington (because we had to go the long way round as we could not get on to the main line), God only knows. Anyway, we trundled all the way back there, with Ms Wench moaning about her stir fry (and constantly using my phone to phone her "carer" - who seemed quite nice actually as I got to speak to her too) and Mr Long Hair doodling. I read the Metro.
So to Darlington we got - effectively meaning I had travelled 8 miles in an hour and a half. Taxis were called for and I ended up sharing a backseat with this girl who the train and taxi staff thought was "my girlfriend". Hmm... Anyway, we shared a couple of Fruit Pastilles (she couldn't get enough of them she said - hmm surprise bloody surprise there), she talked about her football coaching course, she got to where she wanted to be and that was that.
At this stage, I realised that the taxi driver didn't have a clue where he was going and was relying on me to navigate. Great. I was in the backseat with long haired dude saying nothing, despite me talking to the taxi driver about some such things or other. Anyway, long hair didn't speak for the next hour of the journey - it was only as I mentioned my lectures at King's Manor College in York that he perked up. This was with 30 seconds left before the taxi was due to drop him off. He told me he was a York Uni student and he started questioning me on my time there - I guess it's amazing what confidence you can have when you are a) broached on a subject you know something about and b) are 30 seconds away from never seeing again the crazy madman who keeps trying to start a conversation with you who is sat right behind you.
Anyway the driver and I had hit it off by this point so I moved into the front seat and I directed him out of York. Previously, he had discussed his desire to pick up some Stella for when he got home and I told him I didn't mind if we stopped off at a supermarket on the way. It was midnight by this point, I had intended to be in Leeds for 10pm and I hadn't yet had anything to eat myself due to the fact that an hour before I was due to set off, my uncle phoned me up to have an argument with me about something he claimed that I did but that I didn't actually do (he later came round to apologise for the verbals). I figured an extra 10 minutes would make no difference.
So spying a supermarket, we went in. He bought some Stella, I couldn't find any sandwiches but as he got three Creme Eggs for £1, he kindly let me have one. So on our way to Leeds I did and he started telling me about a system he had of winning guaranteed money from poker machines in a well-known high street bookmakers. All intriguing stuff. He was surprised when I told him I was in a similar industry, I got him interested in what I do and now he wants to know more. All the while, it was getting increasingly later and he was asking me important questions such as whether his son should join the RAF etc. We had really hit it off and the journey was made far more bearable due to the fact that I met him and the other people too.
We parted company at 12:40am and I had to be up for an 8:30am check-in the next morning. However, the events of Thursday night warmed me in a way as I met three people that, had this person not jumped in front of a train, I would never have met. It gives me a strange sense of schadenfreude in a sense because as tragic as the incident was, I made the best out of it. I guess life keeps throwing up surprises.
On the train down to Wolfie's, we had a jumper at Northallerton station. This held the train up outside the station whilst the authorities cleaned up the mess (after investigating it assumedly). It's always interesting to observe the mindset of other passengers when someone has ended their life by jumping in front of a train. It usually goes:
First 15 minutes - shock
Next 30 minutes - sympathy
Any time thereafter - anger that this "selfish bastard" has dared to interfere with my travel plans.
Indeed I have always found the boundary between this sympathy and anger a curious one. Effectively, someone has lost a life in such a tragic way yet push the ego so far and it will revert to thinking of itself. This means that it can only be empathetic for so long before the inconvenience of being delayed takes hold and you want to get to where you were going, with every passing minute merely building up the frustration in your own mind. After all, no one likes being helpless yet the ironic thing about the situation is that it grew from the helplessness of somebody else, who was forced into committing the act in the first place.
Anyway, I was quite relaxed on Thursday and the delay didn't bother me. In all honesty, it became a little bit of an adventure and a very interesting way to observe the idiosyncracies of different people.
On the train, there were three of us - myself, a long haired lover from York and a rough as badgers lady from Hartlepool. Upon hearing the news of a fatality on the line, all she could think about was the fact that her stir fry that her "carer" had cooked her would now be all stuck together because she wouldn't get back in time to eat it. Apparently, she didn't like heated up food. She had an argument with the train guard (who to be fair did everything in his power to ensure that we would be as unaffected as possible due to the incident) who accused her of being "a very sympathetic young lady". The long haired guy said nothing and just doodled.
The plan was then formulated that we would go to Darlington and take a taxi from there. Why not Yarm, Thornaby or Eaglescliffe - all with taxi firms and all closer to where we were than Darlington (because we had to go the long way round as we could not get on to the main line), God only knows. Anyway, we trundled all the way back there, with Ms Wench moaning about her stir fry (and constantly using my phone to phone her "carer" - who seemed quite nice actually as I got to speak to her too) and Mr Long Hair doodling. I read the Metro.
So to Darlington we got - effectively meaning I had travelled 8 miles in an hour and a half. Taxis were called for and I ended up sharing a backseat with this girl who the train and taxi staff thought was "my girlfriend". Hmm... Anyway, we shared a couple of Fruit Pastilles (she couldn't get enough of them she said - hmm surprise bloody surprise there), she talked about her football coaching course, she got to where she wanted to be and that was that.
At this stage, I realised that the taxi driver didn't have a clue where he was going and was relying on me to navigate. Great. I was in the backseat with long haired dude saying nothing, despite me talking to the taxi driver about some such things or other. Anyway, long hair didn't speak for the next hour of the journey - it was only as I mentioned my lectures at King's Manor College in York that he perked up. This was with 30 seconds left before the taxi was due to drop him off. He told me he was a York Uni student and he started questioning me on my time there - I guess it's amazing what confidence you can have when you are a) broached on a subject you know something about and b) are 30 seconds away from never seeing again the crazy madman who keeps trying to start a conversation with you who is sat right behind you.
Anyway the driver and I had hit it off by this point so I moved into the front seat and I directed him out of York. Previously, he had discussed his desire to pick up some Stella for when he got home and I told him I didn't mind if we stopped off at a supermarket on the way. It was midnight by this point, I had intended to be in Leeds for 10pm and I hadn't yet had anything to eat myself due to the fact that an hour before I was due to set off, my uncle phoned me up to have an argument with me about something he claimed that I did but that I didn't actually do (he later came round to apologise for the verbals). I figured an extra 10 minutes would make no difference.
So spying a supermarket, we went in. He bought some Stella, I couldn't find any sandwiches but as he got three Creme Eggs for £1, he kindly let me have one. So on our way to Leeds I did and he started telling me about a system he had of winning guaranteed money from poker machines in a well-known high street bookmakers. All intriguing stuff. He was surprised when I told him I was in a similar industry, I got him interested in what I do and now he wants to know more. All the while, it was getting increasingly later and he was asking me important questions such as whether his son should join the RAF etc. We had really hit it off and the journey was made far more bearable due to the fact that I met him and the other people too.
We parted company at 12:40am and I had to be up for an 8:30am check-in the next morning. However, the events of Thursday night warmed me in a way as I met three people that, had this person not jumped in front of a train, I would never have met. It gives me a strange sense of schadenfreude in a sense because as tragic as the incident was, I made the best out of it. I guess life keeps throwing up surprises.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-03-09 08:00 pm (UTC)