I have this belief that most people are fundamentally nice, but sometimes, world events can seriously test this belief. It’s so easy to look at the news and think ‘this is a shitshow’. But I had to do a 3-and-a-half-hour train journey alone with my toddler recently, which included multiple trains, and honestly, it restored my faith in humans.
The basics: we were going on holiday to Devon, with an overnight stopover in Bath. Then my husband had to go away for work the day before we were supposed to be travelling and so we found ourselves in a situation where Alfie and I needed to get to Bath via train. I was not exactly thrilled about this. A 1hr15 train into London, the tube to Paddington, and then a 1hr40 train to Bristol. On my own. With an incredibly active toddler. Er, no, I’m good thanks. But I had to get my big girl pants on because there wasn’t really another option, and I did want to go on holiday.
My biggest concern in these scenarios is that you’re in a confined space surrounded by other people who most likely do not want to be disturbed by a small child. If I was on an empty train I wouldn’t be fussed, it’s keeping them quiet and entertained and, most challenging, restrained to a seat that’s the problem. I was dreading it. But honestly, I just ended up having a series of nice encounters with strangers and it warmed the cockles.
Let's go
So, all our luggage is with Gary and I need to be able to fold down the buggy at a moment’s notice so I have had to contain everything I need to a small rucksack and cross body bag (god bless the Mary Poppins-style Uniqlo bags. If you know, you know. And if you don’t, get in the know. They’re fifteen quid and game changing.) It keeps me hands free. Alfie is in the buggy but if I need to put the buggy down, I can fold it up and have it on a strap on one shoulder and Alfie on the opposite hip.
The journey starts well because my parents are going into Cambridge, so they join us for the first 15 minutes, and the carriage is pretty empty so I don’t even need to fold up the buggy, I just tuck it into the bike/wheelchair section and keep an eye out in case anyone needs the area. Alfie is so excited to be on a ‘choo choo’ and to keep seeing ‘choo choos’ out the window that he doesn’t seem that bothered when his grandparents get off, nor when a lot more people get on at Cambridge. He does keep exclaiming ‘choo choo’ quite loudly but the older woman across the aisle smiles at him every time he does so, and the commuter who sits at the table opposite us in his suit seems to take an immediate liking to Alfie. “Oooo how exciting, so many trains. And when you get into London there will be buses and cars, you’re going to have a great time!” I could hug him. I don’t, obviously, but he was so what we needed.
I do have to endure Alfie standing on my lap and draping himself across my face so he can intently examine every other person in the carriage over the back of my seat (whether they want him to or not) but to my delight, being on a train and people watching is essentially enough to pass the first train journey. Just as the novelty is wearing off, I whip out some snacks and he munches on them whilst making uncomfortable eye contact with a girl sat across the aisle. “There’s a model train set in Kings Cross station,” our friend at the table tells me, and gives me specific instructions on where to find it. I know we won’t have time to go see it which breaks my heart a bit cos he is being so damn nice, but I make a mental note for the future. And then just as we are pulling into London, he asks if I want him to take a picture of Alfie and I on my phone. Honestly, what a babe.
I carry the buggy with Alfie in it off the train at Kings Cross, ask a member of staff where the nearest lift to the tube is which turns out to be right next to the platform and I suddenly have a feeling like this might all go quite well. London’s underground system is not step-free friendly, but I can’t fault the directions to the lifts at Kings Cross (you need different lifts for different tube lines) and we are down on the right platform after two lift rides and a bit of walking with no trouble. I get on the tube with the buggy still up because it is only going down if absolutely necessary as far as I’m concerned, and the tube isn’t busy enough to warrant it. I’m standing obviously, but Alfie is getting a little nervous and wants to hold my hand. Immediately the guy on the end seat jumps up and insists I take it so I can be on the same level as Alfie. Another guy opposite grins every time Alfie says ‘choo choo’ or asks if it’s our stop.
We get to Paddington and there’s a paper sign taped to the lift door saying it’s out of order, and so I’m left facing a not insignificant number of stairs. Ah. It was going so well.
“I can come back down and help you?” a woman asks me. She’s wearing airline clothes, has two suitcases of her own and is wearing heels that I’d break my ankle in.
“Are you sure?”
“Let me just take my cases up.”
She gets halfway up the stairs and then another woman realises what she’s doing and offers to stand with her luggage whilst she helps. By this point, a dad with a buggy has appeared next to me and asks if I want to do one buggy at a time between us. But airline lady is back down and says she’ll come back for him as well. Well, this is wholesome. I thank her about a hundred times when we get to the top of the stairs. And then Alfie and I are in the middle of Paddington station which is heaving. But I take the fact that the water refill station is right at the top of the stairs as another good sign, refill our bottles and then make my way to the Millie’s cookies stand. This is a day for treats. I let Alfie pick the cookie he wants which may be an error because that boy ain’t gonna forget if someone mentions chocolate. Getting onto the platform is entertaining because it is so busy, but I hold my nerve and don’t actually put the buggy down until we’re outside our train carriage. Something that will surprise no one – train aisles are not big enough to walk down with a buggy on your shoulder and a toddler on your hip so that’s fun, and then I have to kick a guy out of our reserved seats which he does not look impressed by. Kids under 4 travel for free on trains but if you want to actually have a seat for them, you have to buy a ticket, so I was having those seats. He sits opposite us instead and frowns at his laptop and I have to resist the urge to tell him he might just wanna move away from us altogether because I really don’t think we’re going to be his vibe.
Watching the trains outside only kills about 10 minutes this time but this is the moment for the contents of my bag. We do some colouring, but Alfie’s restless so I deem it’s time to crack open lunch and iPad. To my surprise, he sits quite happily with his Tupperware of pasta pesto and Zog on the iPad (very quietly). Okay he does roar at the top of his voice when the dragons roar (if you’re not a parent, this probably means very little to you – he was shouting ROAAAARRRR in the middle of a quiet train carriage is all you need to know) but hey, could have been worse. Laptop guy understandably does not look thrilled by dragon impressions.
I chance my luck and put on Stick Man after Zog has finished and offer him his cookie. ‘HOCOLATE!’ Alfie shouts with glee, and I notice laptop guy smile despite himself. Ha. Knew we’d crack him.
More colouring, a Thomas the Tank Engine magazine and some books pass more time once the cookie has been demolished and we’ve established there isn’t anymore (a hairy moment). But then with about half an hour to go, he gets really restless and I can’t really blame him. He starts jumping up and down in his chair in a way that is guaranteed to annoy everyone around him. But I manage to get him to sit on my lap by letting him watch videos on my phone. Of himself. He gets a lot of joy watching himself dance at my sister’s wedding, but the winner is a video of him helping his dad scrub our dirty picnic blanket. “WET” he proudly proclaims as he watches himself scrub some mud, and we watch it several more times. Whatever works for you kid.
As we’re pulling into Bristol, a guy asks if he can carry something for me. I say I think I’ll be fine and then realise I’m being daft, and he carries the buggy off for me whilst I carry Alfie. All the lifts at Bristol are working, two people smile at Alfie and ask if he’s having fun, one in a broad Bristol accent, the other in a broad Welsh accent.
And then we’ve arrived! We’ve stayed on to Bristol so we can catch up with one of my oldest friends who is waiting for us on the other side of the ticket barrier. We walk to one of Bristol’s city farms; I’d hoped Alfie might nap but Bristol has far too many buses to miss so I give up on that idea. Bristol city farm is so good and free. There’s a café, big sand pit full of tractors and diggers and loads of animals to look at. We see goats, pigs, sheep, cows, rabbits and ducks. Alfie had a great time.
(Side note, my step-dad thought it would be funny to teach Alfie that rabbits roar. You know, like the dragons. So, if you ever see a small child roaring at bunny rabbits, he’s mine.)
My friend Dan is great with kids and manages to make walking back and forth along the same wall around the duck pond somehow hilarious. There is a tantrum when I have to change Alfie’s nappy but I’m so damn relieved he didn’t do a poo on the train journey that I don’t even care. After a very nice few hours, we are back at Bristol station for the final train journey. Of course, Alfie fell asleep on the walk back. The train is a small, local one and is busy and I really should put the buggy down but waking up a toddler who has only been asleep for ten minutes would be horrific for everyone in the vicinity, so I squeeze on with the buggy. I manage to get on at the same spot as a guy with a bike, so we block the whole area and it is not ideal. A man gets on behind me and I say sorry.
“Don’t you apologise,” he says, smiling at a sleeping Alfie.
It’s only 15 minutes back to Bath and when we pull in, the same man offers to help carry the buggy off the train.
“Don’t want to wake him up do we?” he says, cheerfully and I have to resist the urge to hug him as well because I am very tired by this point, and he really is the cherry on top of all these nice people.
Sounds like quite a journey Kate, well done to you and Alfie, also all the lovely people along the way!
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