Train stations

As mentioned in Emma's blog I had a little incident in a train station in England 13 years ago, I haven't really thought about it for years and was surprized by my feelings while writing, over the last few days it's ugly pong has revisited floating into the back of my mind.

So I've decided that maybe I need to revisit.

Here it is, the truth about that time.

Joe was a student in my class, a nerd who was 35 and wore grey anoraks and spongy black priest shoes. The cool girls in my class sneered Joe, he was never invited to coffee or included in social gatherings. I was a tiny, naive, country girl who had been raised to treat people well and as a pleaser I wanted to make Joe feel part of our group. So I would invite him to coffee with us, he never came but at least he had been asked.

Our class went to a conference in England, we took the boat. Trinity college is a reasonably small university and my Biochemistry class had only 22 students, so we socialised with our lecturers and were really good friends. One of our lecturers was a keen bird watcher so while sailing I was educated on the creatures of the sky. During my class I noticed that Joe was staring.

The conference went really well Joe didn't participate, he didn't socialise with us and after a brilliant weekend we made our way to the train station by bus. While busing I noticed that Joe was staring. One of the cool girls noticed too and she started laughing, I wanted this girl to like me so I giggled quietly in affirmation. Joe saw me and I noticed that he was hurt.

We stood on the platform chatting, laughing, a large train approached with all it clattering banging noise. I looked to my right to see it and felt hands push me hard. While falling I saw the train move towards me and Richard, a rugby player.

He saved me, he caught me in his big hard muscular arms, held me there as the train brushed pass blowing my hair as it passed. I used to think that rugby players were naff but now I think of them as friendly giants, big teddy bears. I remember sitting on a bench my friend Orla running her hands through my hair and a little old woman with coffee.

Later it was discovered that Joe had pictures of me in his bedroom, felt that my voice came on the intercom of his supermarket and that I had spent New Years eve under his bed.

There, I've told you.

Here's the sad part .
This is what I really think.....I shouldn't have laughed.

That's the part that's making me cry right now, the fact is that I still believe that. I know I'm not meant to say that or think that but it's the truth and nothing but it. There I've purged, you don't have to answer it would embarrass me to hear.

The things that don't kill us make us stronger.