I imagine that’s what she thought. Her smile hiding the true nature of her feelings.
As my apology slipped and tripped from my tongue.
I was sure this was my seat. The one I had occupied. The one I was now cowering in.
It was the right seat. If today was the 10th December and I was in Leeds at 6.17am. But it’s not. I am not.
The perils of booking so many tickets for so many train journeys. I opened the app. Fat thumbed to what I thought was the right e-ticket and settled in for the ride.
Until she smiled. I smiled back. We both checked. Naturally defending our position. I crumbled. I bolted. To another seat. Next to a pocket muncher – a crisp cruncher. Stop at the knuckle there, lad.
Oh for a train beer.
Only another 90 minutes of this fella’s packed lunch to go!