Down Town Train

I have started to take a short cut up to Platform 1 at Piccadilly Station. There are more fellow workers and fewer people with wheelie suitcases on this route, following the service road up to the station, past the wonderfully named pic-a-deli sandwich shop which is also a car valeting service. The station concourse isn't quite on a par with St Pancras, but there are plenty of shopping opportunities and a range of cafe choices. Very different from a late night passing through when I was 17 and saw my uncle, my father's identical twin for the last time.They were the exception that proves the rule about the closeness of twins, and he wasn't completely identical because he had lost an arm.A one - armed bandit? Certainly a black sheep. Years later one of my cousins told me it was as a result of a drunken car accident in Kenya, but I don't know if that's true. My daughter found him on Ancestry. He had died some years before my father, he had remarried, and he ended his days in Exeter. I can still see him in my mind's eye. I don't know who was more surprised to see the other. I was with an unsuitable boyfriend and we had just had a run in with the transport police. We had boarded a London train at Cheadle Hulme without tickets, and they were convinced we had sneaked on at Euston.I have my weekly season ticket now, all above board. I'm getting to know regular commuters and have met some other fascinating people on a more random basis.I have seen snow melt and lambs appear, and snowdrops turn to daffodils. The Hope Valley route passes through a stunning landscape for most of the journey. I have watched a child on a little white horse (one of my favourite childhood books), let off the lead rein to canter on her own. I think of my son Charlie working in his Youth Hostel kitchen as the train passes through Hope at 7.45am. We are both early risers nowadays. Prayer flags flutter in a friend's back garden in Hathersage, where there are sadder memories of my brother in law who lost his life there. As well as the chat, there's the chance to read. I choose slim volumes off my bookshelves to read again. Kindles are no fun because you have no idea what people are reading! Last year I was told about an app that identifies people nearby that you might have something in common with. Even the person giving the workshop thought it was a bit like stalking.Forget the app, sit on a train, listen to the conversations, observe the clothes, glance at the books and if you like what you see, smile.It seems to be working so far.