Sheffield, England: 4 degrees, rain, wind and very cold.
I’m in Sheffield. Yesterday, I had an argument with my brother.
The weather is super shitty, and I have to do what I want to do and go back to Wordsley. Even though it is not good for everybody, especially my niece and nephew, I think it’s best to avoid further confusion, stress, and fights because if I stay, I feel that it will only get worse; it is impossible to get better.
The train is at 11 a.m. I had arranged with Steven to leave his house between 9:15 and 9:30 to arrive at the station by 10 a.m. I want to go back without rushing, have a coffee at the station, watch the people coming and going and catch the train serenely without any fuss or confusion.
We left the house with the temperature at about 5 degrees, which for me is bitterly cold. I put my suitcase into the back of Stevens’ van, and just as we were pulling out, I saw Russell getting into his car on the other side of the road. I think he saw me, but he didn’t stop or acknowledge me; he just accelerated off in a hurry.
From Steven’s house to the train station was not far, it’s quite near, only about 12 minutes. He wanted to come with me until inside the train station. I thought it wasn’t necessary, but he insisted. The main lobby of the train station, a beautiful old building that was probably Victorian in style, from the time of the Industrial Revolution, was full of people coming and going.
I love this mix of architecture that you often see in Europe, where the old is combined with the new. I believe it first emerged after the Second World War, when much of Europe was heavily bombed from both sides, and what remained was rebuilt or restored with more modern architecture.
I also think this has been a stronger tendency in the last 20 or 30 years, where architectural tendencies, coupled with new materials and technology, create the possibility of a mix between the past and present, resulting in some fascinating and beautifully restored semi-modern structures or buildings.
We said our goodbyes, and I thanked Steven profusely for his hospitality and patience, arranging for us to meet again in the future. I went to buy a coffee and a sandwich in one of the mini shops in the lobby of the train station. I don’t usually have breakfast or eat in the morning, only when I’m with somebody or travelling, but never on a daily basis.
At about 10:30, I went to the platform and waited, on a beautiful, old, and large platform from a time when space was not such a scarce commodity as it is today. At a quarter to 11, the train pulled into the platform. It was early, so if it left early, then it should arrive at the next stop early. Therefore, I should have enough time to catch the connecting train without too much trouble.
I found my carriage, my seat, and a place to put my suitcase and settled in. It was only an hour’s train ride to Derby, where I would change to the New Street train station in Birmingham, and then change again to Wolverhampton station, where my mother would pick me up.
I had eight minutes to change platforms and trains in Derby, and my train had arrived two minutes late. I was the first off and onto the platform, and up the steps onto the steel passageway that connects all the other platforms. I had arrived on platform six but needed to go to platform three. In the blur of the rush, I saw platform three on the monitor for Birmingham New Street station. I went down the steps, and the train was already there, with people already boarding.
Without checking if it was the right train, I just got on, found my seat, which someone else was already in, and they kindly moved. I arranged my bag, and in less than a minute, the train was pulling out of the station.
Birmingham New Street station holds a lot of memories for me because, as a child, my friends and I would sometimes go ice skating in Birmingham, with the rink located very near the train station. At that time, the station was dark, dingy, and a little claustrophobic, with numerous small passageway tunnels.
Now, although it is still dark with very heavy grey concrete architecture, they have opened it up, allowing you to see the sky and sunlight, which you couldn’t before. What I have noticed about English railway stations in general is that they are in some ways copying the airports, planes, and flights. Beautiful foyers or lobbies, a significant amount of technology spent on communication and organising passengers and people inside the station, and a certain amount of artistic style in décor.
It is amusing how, when the train begins its trip, pulling away from the platform, the driver uses the train’s public address system to inform us about the trip, just like flights. As the train is also part of the transport service sector, it strives to provide the best possible service to its passengers, ultimately so that they return and spend money with them again, the private sector.
We often complain that we feel the world is moving in the wrong direction. Still, my recent experience of taking a train in England is quite pleasurable nowadays, much better than I had expected, and certainly more so than when I was a child. Obviously, this is until some crazy politician or dictator appears and wants to destroy and blow everything up; so, there is still hope.
Catching the last leg of my return trip from Sheffield to Wolverhampton, ultimately from Birmingham New Street station to Wolverhampton, the train arrived on time, but it was bitterly cold. My mother arrived late due to the traffic being a bit complicated, but everything was fine.
On the way home, we talked. I didn’t want to go into great detail about what had happened with my brother, but my mother, of course, wanted to know. I think for my mother, it’s more about being right and having some reason or justification for what she had experienced with my brother in the past.
I find it all too easy for people to judge, justify, and put others down to serve their convenience or narrative. I have a strong dislike for gossip because it reflects a lack of empathy. I also believe it’s wrong to talk about someone behind their back when they aren’t present to defend themselves. While no one is perfect, I recognise that certain situations and relationships are inherently complex.
For me, visiting my brother didn’t go well, but I want to approach it without judgment, backstabbing, or slander.
On the way back, my mother wanted to stop off at McDonald’s and the supermarket, and at about 5:30, we were home. I unpacked my suitcase, had a quick shower, talked more with my mother and opened up a bottle of wine to relax a little before going to bed.
In bed by 10:30 p.m.
Thank you.
Thanks for reading this blog post. Please explore my other posts and share your thoughts in the comments section.
Richard
