Memoir Blast — Girls on a Train

Intro — Girls on a Train

Life always seemed to happen when I was travelling. Trains, platforms, doorways, cafés — places where you’re meant to just pass through, but somehow I never just passed through. Things happened. People collided with me, or revealed themselves, or broke, or cried, or tried something they shouldn’t. And I was always there — a girl on a train, a girl in a doorway, a girl in a café — noticing, reacting, protecting, absorbing.

These are just some of them.

Memoir Blast — Girls on a Train

1) The Man on the Stockholm Train I was on a Swedish train with my daughter, eight years old, hyper‑vigilant like me, ND like me. The carriage was full, except for one man — the only man — who told me I looked attractive in my red dress. I thought he was odd, but harmless. Until I looked again. Until I realised what he was doing. Until the rage hit my throat but I swallowed it because my daughter was right there.

ND balance Rage or leave!

I got us off the train without alerting her, without letting her link anything together. We stepped into an empty station — impossible in Stockholm — but there we were, alone. One stop, maybe two, from where we’d boarded. She asked why. I didn’t tell her. I reported him upstairs, but he was gone. The train was gone. Pointless, but necessary. Girls on a train. Always something happening.

I've made this very together sounding - but i panicked he wobbled me, I will ask my daughter her version.

2) David Jason in the doorway (ND Brain) I came out of Paris Shoes where I worked and walked straight into a short man in a Del-boy coat. Literally collided with him. I Said hello. He barely said it back. I didn’t register him, as I came back to work the staff where like that was David Jason.. Didn’t know he lived in Aylesbury. Didn’t know anything until later. Just another chain of events.

3) The Tesco Café Robber (Aylesbury) I worked in a Tesco café once — terrible job, late shift, alone, typical box‑ticking employment. I came out from the back and saw a man leaning over the counter, trying to steal the till. He didn’t know I was there. I didn’t know he was there. We startled each other.

“What on earth are you doing?” I said it like a Victorian woman in her fifties, even though I was really young. He froze. Stopped instantly. Then bolted. I told security. Nothing came of it. No thanks. No bonus. Just another entry in the catalogue of shop‑work chaos.

4) The Woman Crying on the Train

A young woman crying on a Swedish train, in the daytime. Silent, shaking, alone.

I gave her my packet of tissues. She didn’t say much. I pretended to understand, smiling.

She cried harder — at the kindness.

We got off.