This evening, when I left the train after my commute home, I was asked direction by a lady who had left the train. I say a lady, but she was I think a few years younger than me. She looked completely disorientated: she had some address scribbled on a piece of paper, was watching a map on her mobile, etc. She had a British accent, but I couldn't find from where, it was very particular. I couldn't help her as I had no idea which place she was looking for. Thankfully there was another local (read: a genuine local woman who spent her life here) who could help her more. But in this short conversation, I learnt where she was from (once she was reassured someone could help her she seemed eager to tell us): Yorkshire.
I sometimes get fascinated by my fellow train travellers (Miss Clint Eastwood for instance, or a South African ticket inspector, or simply people I see daily). But people who travel so far a distance to end up in a small British town, for whatever reason, are the most interesting. I saw French and Italian tourists here, people coming for conferences, guys from Eastern Europe (I think), a football player from the West Indies, a crowd of strangers. I am not a local myself, I never felt like one, I just happen to live here, so I relate to these people. Yorkshire is not exactly a foreign land, but in train it is still a very long distance. Often places become more real when you know what distance you need to go through to get there, what odyssey you have to do. This town I live in now, Yorkshire, or where the water is deep. I wonder what my readership thinks about it. Maybe I am just rambling.
6 hours ago