Trains, Pains and Margaritas

📽 Watch ~ A process video of a man I met

A portrait of a man called Joe. Video is at the end

Dear Powells,

I wrote this postcard aboard the 14:32 train to London but I had to wait until today to post it because despite the many signs telling me ‘wifi is available on board this train’ it absolutely categorically wasn’t, meaning I couldn’t publish it*.

I was honoured to have been invited by author J.P Rose to the book launch of her latest book, Birdie. I had arranged to meet my agent for drinks first (naturally) and I was staying in a Premiere Inn Hub, my favourite hotel chain - compact, affordable, lime green (what’s not to love). I had a 17 minute changeover period between Kings Cross Station and meeting my agent: locate hotel, check in, locate room, figure out lighting system, change outfits, apply make up with a trowel, exit hotel walk back to Kings Cross, remember how the tubes work, navigate to Tottenham Court Road, remember which way Goodge Street is, Walk to cocktail bar, arrive feeling fabulous.

But first the transitory period that the Derby to London train provides - enforced relaxation and an opportunity to do nothing… nothing but be incessantly irritated by my fellow homo sapiens.

I am a magnet for undesirables:

The avid YouTube watcher who lacks headphones, or a volume button.

The business man who doesn’t understand where his seat ends and mine begins.

The overzealous train conductor who announces every leaf on the track over the tannoy as though he were auditioning for a West End Show.

On Thursday, I had the pleasure of being in close proximity with two ladies who were each 3 miniature bottles of fizz down, and counting. They weren’t counting; I was. If I had 3 bottles of fizz at 2.30pm on a Thursday, or any other day for that matter, the overzealous train conductor would be announcing to my fellow passengers that there was a drunk and disorderly onboard and could someone please call the Transport Police. See it. Say it. Sort it.

We stopped at Loughborough and I was overjoyed to see more undesirables flocking toward me. It was at that point I called upon the wisdom and motivation provided in 1978 by Gloria Gaynor: I Will Survive.

Yours, from seat B 42**,

Powell

*Please send your complaints to East Midlands Railway.

**Not anymore, obviously. I haven’t been riding that train for 2.5 days.

Seeing as two days have passed since I initially penned this postcard I am able to tell you that I did not arrive at the pre-launch drinks feeling fabulous. As I stepped off the train, I received an email relating to my conveyancing purgatory that contained the exact opposite news to what I had been hoping for. I forgot all the orienteering skills I learned in my 20+ years in London and got lost trying to navigate the Northern line at Euston. When I surfaced to street level, I walked in the wrong direction at Tottenham Court Road and I arrived at my drinks half an hour late, sweaty and stressed, with steam spurting from my ears in bursts.

Two classic margaritas drunk (in quick succession) amongst good company put me back on track.

The launch was delightful. Birdie is a powerful book. I encourage you all to buy a copy and read it, no matter how old you are. J.P Rose is a masterful writer; there are lines in her book that read like poetry and knowing the story—whilst fictional—was drawn from J.P’s real life experiences as a mixed race child, make it all the more poignant.

After the launch, and several more margaritas, I bought a McChicken Sandwich on my way home and ate it whilst watching a programme about surgeons in Cardiff, in my lime green capsule. But not before passing a homeless man in an underground tunnel who looked so sad that I doubled back and asked him if he was okay. He was called Joe and he was not okay. I sat with him and listened to his troubles. I walked him out of the underground and bought him a hostel and food for the night. We exchanged two hugs and I told him that, despite how it may sometimes seem, there are people—total strangers—who care.

I am grateful I met Joe, however fleetingly, and I hope that wherever Joe is right now, he is okay.

A timelapse video of me drawing Joe’s portrait is below, available to paid subscribers.