I am on a train (quite conscious that I am wearing my Covid-19 mask at this point, my vision somewhat obscured) and am standing and waiting/looking for a seat. It feels like I finally walk through to the next carriage where a burly builder lad sprawls across two seats, lounging in one, his muddy 'workie' boots perched on the other. He wears a dark blue boiler suit and the two seats (and seat backs) are covered in some sort of blue waterproof sheeting with a black elasticated lining – there is caked mud on this from his boots. I ask if I can sit and do so, taking care to perch my bottom on the edge, mindful of the dried dirt -
He's quite amenable and we chat away. At one point he asks where I live. I hesitate but eventually say B-, immediately apologising for how it's “quite posh”. From there I mention I need some (building) work done to my house and we talk the job through while he makes notes in pencil on the back of a business card. It gets quite intense – I'm aware of A. N. Other observing intently and that we are now standing huddled around the scribblings -
I suddenly tune into the automated train announcement - “This is Paisley. The next stop will be Johnston” - and panic. This is my stop! I immediately rush out the closing doors on to the platform then realise I have left my phone and bag! I jam my right foot in the doors to prevent them closing and holler about my phone and bag, all the while sweeping my hands over my head in an attempt to catch the train driver's attention. He finally pops his head out the cab opens the doors. The builder lad (with a knowing look) only passes me his business card and, kind of stunned into incomprehension, I watch as the train drives off -