Thank you Jamie and Oskar.

Well, what have I been doing? Not blogging, for sure. But you might remember I wrote just before Christmas about taking the lads to the panto at Hackney Empire,  and the other day I noticed the Empire was showing something else I'd like to see. So I booked tickets, and at six o'clock T and I set off for the London Overground train, expecting to reach the theatre with half an hour to spare.  

The train was crowded, but all went well for about ten minutes, until we came to a screeching and unexpected halt.  "We'll be off again in a couple of minutes, we're just waiting for a signal," explained the driver.

"I don't think so," said a teenage boy standing next to me.   "We're halfway between signals. Look."  He showed his younger sibling something on his phone.

"Wow, Jamie," said the kid, peering at the screen. "So we are."

Two minutes went by.  Then another two. And another.  I looked at the dying streaks of sunset from the window. There was a slight click and suddenly most of the lights in the train went out. 

"Power's off," said Jamie, quietly.  "These lights above the doors will last for ages, but they only run on batteries.  I think we'll be here for a while."

"We'll be on our way in a couple of minutes," the driver announced again above our heads, and I hoped so, because the train was crowded and you never like to run too close to the starting time when you're going to a show.

"Not getting my hopes up about that, I'm afraid,"  Jamie muttered to the kid, and once more, he was correct.

As time went on, everyone got a bit tired of listening to the driver's updates about two minute departures, and soon we were straining ears to hear what Jamie was figuring out from his phone apps.  It was clear that the train had developed a serious fault, so when the driver finally admitted it, Jamie was already explaining to the kid how a diesel would soon be pushing us to the nearest station.  "Look - this is it. It's not far away.  Can you see? It's not one of the regular trains - it's got a temporary head code...."

I didn't think I looked as if I was drooping, but a blond haired man with a ponytail, fantastic glittery trousers and a big woolly poncho politely tapped my arm and said that that the long thin package he was sitting on had some space for another person.   I accepted, sat down, and he introduced himself as Oskar.

Nothing happened.  Then, "Oh, the walls and windows are all wet, look!" said the kid, rubbing a finger against the carriage wall.  

"Yuk. That's condensation from peoples' breath" said another passenger.

"The air conditioning's gone off," explained Jamie. 

"And it's sure getting hot" said a woman anxiously, and sure enough, people were starting to remove their jackets, and then their sweaters. Those who were sitting near windows tried to open them, but they couldn't be budged. The driver's voice crackled through. "We'll be moving very soon" she said, but nobody believed her any more.

It was perfectly dark outside now, and so we stood and waited and watched in silence as goods trains rumbled past the window, black and a bit creepy.  It got hotter. In fact, the atmosphere in the carriage was getting distinctly depressed, and suddenly Oskar made a decision. He pulled out a Bluetooth speaker, waved it in the air, smiled and music drifted out. And what great music it was. I don't usually appreciate other peoples' music in the train, but this was just perfect for our situation: melodious, cheerful, rhythmic and relaxing, and not too loud.  

It's amazing how a bit of music can change the mood. Passengers began moving around, tapping their feet, clicking their fingers, smiles appeared, sweets were handed out.  An mildly party atmosphere replaced the gloom in our bit of the train.... 

.... for as long as it took another passenger to push through the crowds from the other end of the carriage. His face was tense and drawn.   "People are very stressed up at our end. And this just adds to it!" he hissed.  Well, I was sorry for him, because he clearly was stressed, but somehow he did remind me a bit of Basil Fawlty....

Oskar smiled and turned the music off, but by then the ice was broken, and he got everyone chatting away, telling their own little stories. One woman owned a hairdressing salon, had been working late, was not looking forward to having to shop before she could eat.  Another had just moved to London, so being stuck on the train was a kind of introduction to the city for her, lucky woman.  Oskar revealed he was a carpenter from Sweden, and had come to England because he fell in love with a woman, but that broke up. So, he retrained as a massage therapist and travelled around a small but growing clientele. The object I was sitting on was in fact his portable massage table.

"Give us a neck massage, Oskar, that'd be really good" someone said, but at that moment, there was a commotion and a pair of men in fluorescent jackets suddenly arrived in our part of the train, carrying tools.  Were they going to fix the problem?

No. 

"We've got to see to the emergency doors. Idiots are pressing the emergency buttons, and every time they do it holds us up for another five minutes while we sort it out," sighed one.

The driver's intercom crackled. "Please, passengers, don't try to get out of the train, all the lines are live!" she said. "We'll be on our way in a couple of minutes,"  Silence.  "I mean, I'm doing my best, just give me a break, will you?" she snapped, and clicked the intercom off. 

"Don't worry, the rescue train's really near, it's been waiting at a signal for ten minutes," said Jamie.

 "The passengers on the Island of Sodor must feel like this,"  T remarked, and that was just what I'd been thinking too, for he and I have been reading lots of stories lately to little people about the Island of Sodor, where Thomas the Tank Engine and his friends operate the most accident-prone railway in Storyland.

Just then, a couple of policemen

hove into view through the crowds.  Not hurrying, just purposeful.  One of them explained that A Really Useful Engine would be coming very, very soon - or something like that.  And this time I was glad to find that Jamie agreed. "Yes - at last!" he confirmed,  peering at his screen, and a few minutes later there was quite a bump as Thomas - or was it James -  or Mavis - or Diesel?  finally arrived to the rescue.

Clunk, clank.  At last, we were moving - at least three feet.  Then another couple of feet...  And over the next twenty minutes, our poor broken-down train was pushed with excruciating slowness the 20 metres or so to the next station. Jamie filmed it for his Youtube channel....

... until finally there we were at the platform, only two hours late!  Now all that needed to happen was  someone to open the doors. "They still don't have any power," explained Jamie. "They'll probably just open one door manually, but that's all right."

And it was all right.   A few moments later, news spread that one door was opened at the end of the train. I thanked Jamie and Oskar, and some of the passengers said goodbye to each other - a couple even exchanged addresses - and then we filed out and went our separate ways.

By now T and I had almost forgotten our play. We were still miles from Hackney, and there was no chance of getting there even for the second half.   So we made our way through the milling crowds in the booking office,  many of them asking the harassed staff why they couldn't get the train. 

(Answer: "Because the train has broken down, like it says on the huge notice in the station entrance.")

And then at last we were outside in the diesel-reeking air of Camden Road.  We hadn't expected to end up here when we set out so optimistically.  Suddenly I thought of Jamie. I knew the pair of them had a few more stations to go, and I should have asked if they would need any help in getting home. 

"I'm actually not worried about Jamie," said T. "He's super competent.  I bet he gets home quicker than we do."

And with that, we set off - unfortunately, in what turned out to be the wrong direction. This time there was no Jamie to ask for advice, either.  So I expect he really did get home quicker than us.  

Oh, and before we parted, Jamie did suggest I asked London Overground for a refund of the cost of the theatre tickets, even though their website says they only refund the single fare. I suspect he might be right.  He was right about everything else.  Thanks Jamie, and thanks Oskar, for keeping our spirits up.

And I've applied for the ticket refund.  I'll let you know.