Irrelevant Musings Of the Everyday Human Chapter 1 - I never even knew her name

Note : This publication is the introductory chapter to a piece of text that will eventually become a full novel. Each chapter displays a different stage of the Central character and narrators life and as the title suggests - chronicles his musings. The book will not feature a  traditionally linear plot or narrative and will simply focus primarily on characterisation and interaction between individuals.

On approximately two thousand occasions, I’ve known relatives, mainly parents, managing to engage in a full blown conversation with a complete stranger and basically almost become friends. I mean, they’d never correspond with the person ever again but the mood would generally be friendly while it lasted. At 19 years old, attempting to do this is incredibly awkward, for all sorts of reasons. Not only is it complicated by the weight of self-esteem making one think people will assume you’re a creep, the fact that people will indeed actually assume you to be a creep is also in no way helpful. It may be the only age group who generally avoid this, as a 3 year old this was less challenging – a lot less filter back then, no reserve to break, less chance of getting judged by people your age who similarly lack a social filter. Wow, thinking about it there is a possibility things would be less challenging if I just stayed 3 – I mean it’d be disturbing and boring but how often is a 3 year old disturbed and bored? They’re still discovering things, literally everything is new they’re never bored. They may occasionally be disturbed but since every concept is new to them, it’s impossible for them to realise why disturbing things are actually disturbing. Oh to be young. Anyway – back to the present: not 3, haven’t been 3 for a substantial amount of time, sitting at a train station, not alone but may as well be- surrounded by strangers attempting to conjure up some situation that would have to lead to a conversation. Yes I’m really that bored, and I’m really that desperate to escape from the clutches of boredom. If I was a fictional protagonist boredom would be wearing a white mask to cover a facial disfigurement, I would’ve originally been suckered in by its musical talents and elaborate catacomb based settlement only to now wish to escape – even if boredom did sing an enchantingly majestic song entitled ‘music of the night’. Wait –I’m just talking about phantom of the Opera now, at what point did this start? Boy I love that story… And the musical. I’ll take a moment to fully acknowledge how much I love that musical. Done- apparently I love it a lot. That didn’t help. I’m still bored. Oh hang on, why is ‘go your own way’ by Fleetwood mac playing on a loop in my head? I wish I knew more than just the chorus. Have I even heard that recently? Alright then – I’ve been forced unknowingly into this situation I will need to talk to someone else at this train station- how do I know it’ll end badly? I could be soon to experience the events of the film ‘Brief Encounter’ or the more recent ‘Before Sunrise’. Actually no I hope it becomes neither of those – I’ve only got ten minutes assuming my train arrives on time – oh my idealism makes me laugh. Ah a plan of action has entered my mind- a red haired (not auburn, RED, presumably dyed) female of approximately my age has taken up a seat next to me, naturally shivering despite being fully dressed- it is essentially sub-zero temperature. Mr freeze- the batman villain, wouldn’t need his suit if only he thought of moving to Britain. Do I move up a seat closer and then begin a conversation with this person? Would it be more or less weird than remaining to sit about 3 seats away even though the 3 seats in between are unoccupied? What if they open their mouth to reveal a disgruntled looking kangaroo who attacks me using a croquet mallet that has feelings? No, that hardly ever happens nowadays. I move up one seat- trying to be subtle and ensuring I’m not entirely in her visual line, if I am she is bound to notice. This is not a side of myself I admire I must say. Hell, I don’t think there is a side of myself I admire .Infact if anyone admires anything about me then I’ll be worried, there is nothing to like. ‘Sorry I’m not in your way or anything am I?’ I ask after subtly inching closer, even I’m surprised at the assurance I’ve used to say this- anyone would’ve sworn I’d rehearsed for weeks. ‘Oh no its fine’ she amiably replies, in a more cheerful, slightly higher pitched voice than I imagined, although I’m pretty sure I imagine everyone sounding like an animated satanic themed villain whose forsaken his cough medicine. Especially in contrast to my voice- which sounds, at least to me, like the hero of the animated feature that the satanic person without cough medicine appears in. Probably a heart-warming mouse who happens to be a talented seamstress- that’s what I sound like in my mind.  We continue to sit there in silence even after that brief exchange. Well then, that didn’t work. A heart-warming mouse who was also a seamstress would ironically have been a good conversation starter, I will remember this.  She soon disappears, I don’t actually notice her leaving but I notice she isn’t there. I do often look the other way when interesting things happen – maybe an elf gifted with super speed began running circles around her causing a hole in the floor which she fell through , which this elf later filled using its mystical teeth. Or maybe she just caught her train- all open to interpretation. Now somebody else is sitting next to me- it looks like I could be here a while. I need to say something. Maybe I should ask this newcomer if they like Pina colada’s and getting caught in the rain. The newcomer , a girl with long dark hair who I assume to be my age despite being significantly shorter is attempting to control her shivering – and is apparently not having much luck. It’s oddly disturbing to see someone fall victim to the elements like this. Then I remember, I might not have to. There are some spare gloves currently in my possession. I’m not sure how long they’ve resided in my pocket. For all I know I could be harbouring a family of miniature fugitives hiding from…slightly less miniature law enforcers. OH NO wait I only acquired them today - they’ll be fully wearable for another person. ‘Do you want to borrow these gloves you look freezing’ I pressure myself to ask. Damnit, they’re black gloves- that’ll give the impression I’m even more boring and bland than I actually am. She’s probably thinking ‘oh dear lord – this weirdo is forcing me to wear black gloves. I bet when he gets home he’ll be eating black pudding from a black plate while listening to Amy Winehouse’s  back to black and watching Black Hawk Down’ , well, I hereby resent that accusation – I’m not particularly an Amy Winehouse fan and I’ve never seen Black Hawk Down, how dare she make such assumptions!!. Hold on, I didn’t say those things aloud did I? Let me check, no I didn’t. Phew. ‘No it’s ok, thankyou’ she replies- starting off nervous but gradually getting more confident as the sentence progresses (she did answer a while ago, I just wanted to mention a few other things before I got to telling you this). ‘Sorry you just looked really cold’ I responded – oh what a great response, it looks like I’ve been staring at her and calculating her temperature now.  ‘Yeah I am a bit dead’ she jovially responds with a lot of emphasis on the words (she did swear as well, but I’ve cheapened this enough already- not adding profanity in yet). ‘Me too’ I said, trying to be genial (it never works because I’m generally such a weirdo) ‘How long have you got left?’ she sympathetically enquires. ‘About 8 minutes’ I say unsurely. The Conversation actually starts then- she tells me how she only has to get to a certain place which I pretend to know about. I claim it isn’t particularly far away. It transpires I’m actually right about that. Then the topic of University arises, I tell her I’m not attending yet- at this point I was still studying A2 Levels but that I plan on going relatively far away. She tells me that’s what she did and how she spends her life on trains. I tell her I don’t spend a copious amount of time within trains, or buses which is why I don’t understand the full extent of the wide criticism. I’m only giving a diluted version of the conversation for the sake of not rambling much more than I already have. Oh wow, rambling, that’s another word for walking these days – seriously, rambling sounds so much more exciting than walking. Imagine that in a conversation:

‘So what do you do for a hobby?’

 ‘Well I’m a rambler’

 ‘Oh that’s awesome, what is that an adventurer or something? Who would do that sort of stuff? Indiana Jones or one of those chaps?’

 ‘Well it’s more about just walking really’

 ‘Oh- never mind then’.

Moments after I tell this new found conversation companion that I may be waiting longer for my train than expected I see two broadly spread darkened and glazed yet brightly enforced orange lights getting closer, closer closer and the uncomfortable noise they’re accompanied by getting louder, louder, louder. Is this a mythical creature I see before me? What are you trying to tell me?! Oh wait no its not, it’s the train, obviously. ‘I think I’ll have to be going now’ I tentatively exclaim. ‘Oh ok then. Bye’ she says- I think she sounds disappointed, but I also think that’s wishful thinking. ‘It was nice talking to you’ I saw and end up bowing and curtseying at the same time (tragically, far from the first time I’ve done that) ‘you too’ she laughs quite a lot while saying this. Does this mean I was entertaining or she’s lying so much that she’s amused by the fact she’s even attempting to convince me I was a worthy chatting companion. While there might have been some ambiguity of how much I annoyed her, the conversation we engaged in was more in depth than some I’d engaged in with some of my Facebook friends at the time. I had an understanding of her planned destination, her current education status, and the fact she spent in her own words her life on trains- and I never even knew her name.