It takes a train to laugh, it takes a coach to cry

Researchers are currently developing an intellegent, driverless car. It is a pity that the age of the automobile is all but burnt out, and that, on a train, one can achieve the kind of weightless sensation that comes with not having to drive the thing.

If my hypothesis is correct, and I was in fact once a tree, I pass them with great sadness as they blur into impossibly, and the window that separates my human body and their leafy embrace becomes all too real, and prevents me from touching them with my eyes.

The seat that I am sitting on is not the most comfortable, yet I always feel more innocent on a train.  Mother never had a car, and we would always go by train to uneventful little hamlets, on day-trips. I would always be bored to tears. At times it got so unbearable that my mother would strike me, and I would be grateful for this, since it made for at least some excitement, and afterwards my mother would feel guilty and buy me cake.

A woman enters the compartment and starts to bother me with her annoying voice and face.  I heard the voice before I saw the face, which is never a good sign.  

I remarked, (she remarked first but I wasn’t listening, I’ll be damned if she’s gonna have the first “remark“)

I remarked:

“I say, have I seen you before?”

(It’s healthy to confront trauma.)

“No, I don’t think so…”

“Perhaps at Mrs. Hortence’s annual Shindigger’s Ball?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Don’t threat, dear, you didn’t miss much….no, I’m sure I’ve seen you?”

At this point she was looking embarrassed and a little unnerved.

“Tell me, have you appeared in any dreams lately”

“I really wouldn’t know”

“I mean, specifically my dreams”

(It’s all about your dreams, isn’t it?)

“Because there is this certain somebody, a woman, or at least a man with long hair – you can never tell in dreams these days…she was much like your ample self, and is…was…to all intents and purposes, you.”

“Did she sound like me?”

“No, incidentally, she sounded like my father. That is besides the point. Then again, you don’t sound unlike my father… ”

“Thank you…when are you getting off?”

“Oh whenever…are there any uneventful little hamlets near here? I wish to offend some narrow-minded locals. What about Adlestrop? Is Adlestrop nice?”

“nah, it’s a shit hole.”

“So anyway, I’ve had this dream every night for the past eight years.”

“Every third night”

“I stand corrected…And you’re quite sure you’re not you? In my dream I mean?”

“I’m not me in your dream?”

“Yes…I mean no. I mean yes you are. You mean you’re not?”

“Pretty sure. So, are you in love withthis person?”

“love? I’m not at all sure what love is, in dreams at least. No, I find her a bore, really quite tiresome”

“That’s handy.”

“I mean, how can I love someone who makes me tired?”

“My husband and I used to go on adventure holidays…”

“Until you divorced or he died?”

“meh, whichever. This my stop.”

There were trees all around and my reflection was crudely superimposed upon them.

“I love you, by the way.”

I was quite tired, though.

NOTE; When one is perusing the buffet menu, the train may make a sound like so…


and the train’s horn, like so:


Do not be alarmed.

“It’s awfully easy to lie when you know that you’re trusted implicitly. So very easy, and so very degrading.” – Laura Jesson, Brief Encounter.


2 thoughts on “It takes a train to laugh, it takes a coach to cry

  1. Pingback: Peter and the Hare

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s