The Face That Lunched a Thousand Chips

I've been told before I have an expressive face. It's not boastful, or big-headed - I just have the ability to show a range of emotions with just the flick of an eyebrow, or narrowing of my eyes. Sad, melancholy, cheeky, mischeaveous, excited, thrilled, nervous, petrified - you name it, I can pull it off...

...and yesterday, on the train from Euston to Manchester I think I proved it with an old lady.

I was on the train and in my seat early. Opposite me, an old lady got on with a younger woman who spoke in a gentle american accent. She fussed over her for a while, helping her with her bags, making sure she had the booklet she wanted and then said her goodbyes and got off the train. (How she did that I don't know. You can't get onto the platform at Euston without a valid ticket, and they don't sell platform tickets anymore..this isn't the 1950's after all!)

Back to the plot. The american lady has left, they've have waved their goodbyes through the window, and the train pulls out of the station....and then the old lady bursts into tears.

This wasn't a loud howling banshee wail, but it was a full sob. The kind of sob that makes your shoulders lift up and down and your head droop. She took out a tissue and turned her head towards the window to hide her embarrassment. If you've ever sat on a train, you'll know that windows act like mirrors when at speed, so her tear-stained face was still fully in view to me.

I looked across, stared straight into the eyes of her refelection and smiled. Not a cynical 'ha ha' smile, but a smile that said:

'I understand. You've just had a weekend in London in lovely weather visiting a relative. Perhaps a son or nephew you haven't seen for a long time. You've done so many things you never dreamed you'd do - visited Harrods and Hamleys, had a meal in a West End restaurant, perhaps even taken in a show. From the booklet I see you have on your lap you spent time at the Dicken's Museum and would have loved to spend even longer there. But now it's Monday. Your son has had to go to work, but his new wife has kindly brought you all the way to the station and made sure you are settled. But it's a sign it's all over. You are heading back alone to the North-West to what? A home? Your own home that feels cold and empty? Whatever it is, it's nothing compared to the three days you've just spent in London, and it's got to you. It's ok, I understand'.

Not a single word actually spoken outloud - just one smile.

Her reflection looked straight back at me and saw my face looking at her. She turned to face me for real and gave a single shrug and an embarrassed giggle. She wiped her eyes, but before returning to her booklet she smiled. Her smile said:

'Thank you, I know I'm being silly, but I could never afford to make this kind of trip until he kindly offered to pay for my train ticket. I've done so many things in such a short space of time, things I'd only dreamed of, or seen on TV. It was the first time I had met his wife too, but I wonder if I'll ever get the chance to meet her again, or their first child. Thank you for caring.'

...but again, not a word was spoken. We both just knew.