Wellington stop, from Shrewsbury

[The reserve water had all been drunk by the time the race started]


A man sat opposite me in Welshpool, on the train to Birmingham.
He was asking the lady next-door about this train, going to Birmingham or wherever. She nodded and didn't reply so I replied, even though I had my head in the book, busy reading again some thoughts that were forced out of my head an hour before, at great emotional expense.

He carried on chit-chatting to me about trains, then explained he was going to the next station to get his car as he parked it there for free, and took a train either into Shrewsbury or Birmingham when he needed to do shopping, and today he had been doing his Christmas shopping.

He was going to be one of those, I thought, that doesn't stop talking all the way through the bloody journey, having not much tolerance in myself for people who keep on and on and aren't asked to do so, or solicited.

He asked me politely about whether I was going to Euston to get back to France for Christmas, and I politely nodded “no”, looking stubbornly at my book. He then asked me if I was going to party hard tonight with my friends then, when I got back to London, and that surprised me.
Do people meet up with friends on Christmas Eve to party “hard”? I said I was going to have a quiet Christmas, thank you, and as I said that, he took it and ran away with the word. He said that he was also going to have a lonely time, or at least, some time on his own for this festive period.

From then, he kept on talking and I couldn't block him off nor stop him, because I could see he was a lost soul and his words brought many tears to my eyes, me who was crisissy enough like that and was not much in myself, today.

He explained that he was going to be alone for Christmas as his children were going to be at their Nan's and he wouldn't see his boy now till the 7th of January. He then told me all about his ex-wife and life: he had known and courted his ex-wife for 28 years before marrying her, they were childhood sweet-hearts.
She worked 7 days a week in her father's newsagent, and he had to raise, literally, his 2 kids, on his own, for 15 years.
When her father sold the newsagent due to ill-health, his daughter, this man's wife, dropped into a very heavy depressive state. All her life had been focused on this activity and suddenly she found herself without anything, no purpose, no nothing to give her a reason to live. (what about the kids and husband at home, I cried to myself? Surely, they are not nothing? Unless she hates them?)
So, her sister advised her to come to Holiday with her to Majorca, and there she met HIM, this bastard that sweet-talked her for the whole week, and seduced her, leading her to BETRAY her own husband... He didn't insist on how that had happened and what went on, but he explained many times that he tried to get her back, for a good 2 years, and she wouldn't have anything to do with him. I am not sure if she was carrying on the affair with that horrible bloke who lives near Milton Keynes (coincidence!!!) or if she stopped seeing him and what happened, did she live alone for a while or was he still in the house with her or what.

One thing is sure, this was an immense betrayal to him. They had been married for 23 years!!! To do that to him then, him who had been a house-husband for all those years, now not even getting any recognition or love for all he had done, was just terrible!

He was looking at me with such pain in his eyes, as he was saying all this. It had been 6 years...6 years that his own daughter, now 22, had not spoken to him nor seen him. She refused to do so till he agreed to get back with his ex-wife, he said. The thing is, after the 2 years of chasing his ex-wife, the ex-wife then decided she wanted him back and did all to get in contact with him! She sent him letters, called him on the phone but the bad had been done, Human pride can only go so far, he didn't want anything to do with her any longer, and said with no shame that he even put the phone down on her; this betrayal which he would never, never forgive was omnipresent in him, still today. And he said to his daughter that he would never forgive her mother about it.

It affected him less, now, as he had the guard of his 7year old son, whose school was just in front of his apartment and he could see his classroom from his living-room and his dear son was going to get lots of present at his Nan's and would be all happy, he hoped. I wonder how happy can a child whose parents have separated, be...?

The daughter refused to talk to her Dad, possibly blaming him for not making more effort with her mother, and he explained with such melancholy that he did all he could to get in touch with his daughter, always sent her beautiful christmas and birthday presents, sent her letters, sent her texts, tried calling her and she never replied nor picked up the phone... He spent a lot of money on her, he said.
This reminded me of Myron... Money or expensive presents do not mean 'Love'. I probably would have done the same though, at least if anything, the daughter would see things weren't from the pound shop and her father cared just that little bit...But was she grateful for it? Obviously not openly.

All he got from his beautiful daughter was, once a year, a christmas card.
In fact, he had just got it yesterday, and the card said “Happy Christmas Dad, Love you, XX, Atania” or whatever her name was.
When he said that, it really pierced me. What the fuck do people think love is? Is love a pretence, like making a father hang on forever on a promise of this symbolic Love, written in a stupid Christmas card with no meaning, or if it had meaning, surely, she would make some effort to see him or talk to him? Surely, she couldn't love him at all if all she did, at an adult age of 22, was to send him a stupid yearly meaningless Christmas Card??? I hate love, and I particularly hate it when it is used so superficially, to balm the hearts and evaporate like the morning dew when the night has gone... (but...Am I making some ego-minded conclusions and theories with no sense?! Being judgemental without really knowing the other persons sides?) ANd what about those 2 X which are meant to be kisses but that will never materialise, or at least, had never materialised? Is that crual or what? WOuldn't it be best to send a xmas card that says "Happy xmas Dad, I still hate you but may hate you less in a year's time, let's see and act upon it then, no kiss, your daughter A."?

Yes, this reminded me of things which are said and not meant. I don't know what love is, but since I don't, well, I refrain using it. It is the least I can do to someone in all honesty, not say what I am not sure to mean or not.

This insurged me, this thing about “love” and superficial communication that isn't meant. It is like when things are obviously wrong but people pretend all is ok and act and sound as if it is. Yes, maybe it is a good technique for positivity, but there is nothing that irritates me more than pretending and doing small talk just for the gallery or for the hope that "life is ok".
If there is something wrong, show it, share it, and if the other person cares, well, they will reply or agree to talk about it without shouting. Then it can be resolved and the 2 peoople can move on in greater respect and honesty and care for each other, as long as they haven't said shit to diminish the other in the process, shit they didn't really mean, which I surprised myself saying a lot of, lately.

I really thought that this, from the daughter, was the cruellest thing to do, but actually, who knows, those xmas cards may have meant the earth to this heart-broken, solid and honest looking man. Maybe it was better than nothing at all. After all, haven't I complained that silence was the worst thing ever from someone I care for? And then, when a silly word or politically-correct word is said, then doesn't it hurt even more than silence, and wouldn't I have rathered silence than rubbish from that person...
It got me all upset anyway, not that I needed much to get any more upset today...

He then described his daughter, saying how beautiful she was, 6 foot 1, tanned skin, big brown eyes and jet black long hair, just like her mother... He seemed so melancholic. He finished by saying that he was nervous to talk to his wife again, and had not agreed to meet her to talk, yet, and possibly wouldn't. But he was also nervous...To call his daughter and speak to her. He was nervous of her rejecting him? I do not know. But he didn't care much for Christmas, he was going to spend it alone and because of all that happened and this betrayal from this wife he trusted so much, he couldn't trust any women anymore... (he seemed to want to change that, it showed, but I hope he does manage) (...)

What was odd is that he seemed lost in his own trauma. I asked him a question a couple of times but he did not hear them. Did he refuse to hear them, and drowned them under his sorrow? It made me think about me when I am in sorrow. Do I listen, do I engage? No. I shut myself away in my head and refuse to look at the other person.
He only replied to the questions which concerned facts, like about the age of his son, or how long had he owned that house where his wife was now still living and she owned everything and had no mortgage to pay and had a brand-new house and he had nothing.

It reminded me of my own difficulties, and it made me feel ashamed of myself. The Woman. Why do so many women seem to abuse men in that way, those giving, slightly innocent, hard-working men who only seem to want a solid day-to-day happiness and stability? I wanted to ask him if he saw any signs in those 20 years of marriage, of her behaviour towards him, or any repressed angers or words from her. He didn't hear those questions neither, but really, the working 7 days a week in a newsagent says it all...The lady didn't seem to want to be at home. Was her job, her life? Did nothing else matter to her? What was happening for her?

I do wonder about why the daughter didn't seem to show any recognition for her father looking after her all this time when her mother was working? Did he bad-mouth her mother and she resented him? It had been 6 years now and his ex-wife still refused to divorce him, so they were still married, which made the whole thing even more complicated.

It just made me sad. Why are so many men in that situation? WHy do I keep meeting them? Why do they trust me to tell me everything that happened to them? What am I to them? DO they see in me the same as their wife did to them? What has happened to women to be so out of touch? Why is it that those 'good' men are always the ones that take a lesson on their nose because they don't seem to see further from it? Why do they not questions themselves, or question around them, before it is too late? What happened to them all that they couldn't communicate whilst it was happening, and never ever saw the problem coming?

All this makes me wonder in myself. What in me always seeks running away. What always seeks to be problematic, confrontational rather than acceptant, giving, innocent and charmingly human? I just can't forgive myself for who I show others I am... I am sorry I couldn't really help that man. Nor myself, for the same issues of betrayal, that I feel I am doing to the other...


May this person whose name I don't know heal his resentment and sadness about this betrayal... I hope he learns to trust himself again.
I hope...He can evolve to a better place, very very soon. It has all lasted too long.