I boarded the train at Southend Central. “Are you ok with dogs?” the lady I sat next to asked. I was confused. Then a little head appeared from under the seat. “She’s very good” I said. “She used to travelling,” the lady replied. “When I first got her she was too little to leave at home, and now I wouldn’t travel without her.”
Stopping at Chalkwell the beach is empty and deserted. The
sun tries to break through the mist and cloud. I can see a dulled yellow disc
behind the curtain. It casts a bright gloomy light adding a blue tinge to the
grey.
Leaving the station the train runs between the sea and the
houses overlooking it. And squashed between the track and the river is a
footpath that leads to Old Leigh. The town was spilt when the railway line was
built and the side next to the sea has retained a village like atmosphere. It’s
the place to buy the freshest fish. The little boats, many of whose
predecessors took part in the Dunkirk rescue, stand upright in the mud while
the tide is out.
We move into Hadleigh Farm. A tractor ploughs a field. The
Castle remains stand tall and clear, framed by the sky behind. In front, lies
lush green hillside sloping down to the track and the river.
The train rolls on. It fills with more commuters as it goes.
There’s little conversation. They’re all glued to ipads and iphones. There are
a couple of men with fold-up bicycles. A lady applies her make-up. How does she
do that on a moving train?
Small boats, in a haphazard crowd fill the channel between
Benfleet and Canvey. Then the scenery disappears behind trees lining both sides
of the track. Countryside emerges again briefly, exposing a small and lonely
chapel, before the trees enclose us again. The next time they thin, we are in Basildon.
Then more trees, behind which lie Legoland housing estates.
By the time we get to West Hornden, we are in farmland again.
The cows are laying huddled together. That’s a good sign, I think. Nobody
notices. They are engrossed in their electronic equipment.
Urbanisation and The District Line begin as we arrive in
Upminster. We follow it to Barking and as we pull into the station, so does a
tube train. Its driver sits relaxed, with his sleeves rolled up and the door
wide open. I wonder what Health and Safety would say.
A short way after West Ham, the two lines separate. If I
look one way, I can see the red, whirly monstrosity that is the Orbit. On the
other side is the distinctive Canary Wharf building. A canal winds between the
blocks of flats. The Docklands light Railway joins us at Limehouse.
Then we are at Fenchurch Street and everyone scrambles to
get off.
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