The Horror: a lady, a back pack and a croissant…..

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You would think I have learnt my lesson in life and know that boarding a train with two six year olds, and one beautiful baby and heading into London can spell nothing but disaster.

You would think that, but it would seem that I actually seem to have an enjoyment of getting myself into situations where my face starts to flush and my stress levels begin to put pressure on the ceiling.

So today myself, twin boy, twin girl and BB headed to the city bringing with us two moshlings, one zing-zilla, three packets of crisps, several varieties of fruit, yoghurt bars, three bottles of water, one baby doll, one normal sized buggy, one doll sized buggy, one change of clothes and a handbag filled sky high with nappies.

The train was one of the old fashioned ones, which contain small chairs, claustrophobic seating, and lots and lots of people.  Fighting the other passengers off with my two buggies I sent the older two off in search of seats whilst I used my three extra arms to carry BB, buggies and bags.  I saw that they had secured a seat each, sitting opposite one young lady who also had a seat free next to her on the window.

I approached with trepidation hoping that she would take pity on me and hop on over leaving me free to sit on the aisle so I could dump my bags at my feet and not worry about catching her head as I tried to squeeze in by the window with bags and bairn.

As I reached my destination my heart sank a little, they were sitting with a bag sitter lady, the type of passenger that likes to have one seat for herself and a whole other one for her back pack.   At first I tried to communicate with her via the unique language of silent eye conversation; I looked at her beaming whilst my arms slowly started to break under the weight of the bags and child I was carrying and my eyes silently began to murmur….

‘hello lovely lady, I know you don’t want to sit with three kids but neither do I, but we both know it is going to happen so why don’t you scoop up that bag there, shuffle along the seat and pretend to sleep whilst I try and entertain the short ones.’

She didn’t seem to speak eye language.

So I resorted to English…

“Is anyone sitting there?”  I said, and the voice in my head continued “or did you pay for an additional ticket so your backpack could enjoy the scenic view of the countryside between Berkshire and London, because if so just show me the ticket and I will be out of your way; if not just shift the bloody bag and let me sit down”

She seemed to understand although she didn’t use English to reply, she instead resorted to eye language, proving me wrong in my earlier conclusion that she was a non eye speaker.

Her eyes clearly said….

“Oh for fucks sake.”

She slowly lifted the bag from its cosy little seat and hugged it possessively to her chest, her backside remaining firmly on the aisle seat.

Wobbling more than BB, I edged my way into the now vacant seat, dropping hats and gloves around me and inadvertently catching my new seat mate on the side of her bonce with my handbag as I tried to parallel park my arse between a window and a lady and her backpack.

Once in my new seat the children pounced on me.  BB squirmed on my lap trying to reach the croissants hidden in the depths of my purse, and the twins took a more vocal approach of chanting ‘croissant, croissant’ until finally I managed to find them and dish out the goods.

Then it happened…..

Twin boy sat back in his chair, took a giant sized bite of his breakfast whilst at the same time lifting up his noise towards the train roof, he took a breath and then as if an invisible feather had caught him under his nostrils he sneezed.

Not just any sneeze.

This was a sneeze of humongous proportions.

This sneeze also contained a chunk of croissant coated in bogeys.

I watched in abject horror as in slow motion this green coated French piece of plaited bread flew out of my son’s mouth curving through the air towards the lady and her backpack.

I watched as it found its target and hit her squarely on the chest above where the handle rested.

I watched as a few rogue crumbles splattered her arms and legs.

I watched as Twin Girl’s mouth formed the sound ‘ewwwwwwww’.

I watched and thought

‘bloody glad I am in the window seat.’

59 thoughts on “The Horror: a lady, a back pack and a croissant…..”

  5. Hysterical and serves the ‘backpack’ bag lady right. She was a child once too! Hope your London trip went well-actually I don’t. I want to hear more funny stories.

  6. Serve her right. How dumb can you get? Last thing you want is to be in the seat where you’ll have to move every time beautiful baby needs nappy work.

    Bet she’ll move to the aisle seat next time. Or maybe just move. 🙂

    • she was disappointing, however as Twin girl continued to point and stare at dripping bogeys I suddenly went mad for trees outside the window chanting, ‘look kids, look at the trees, wow.’ shame we were in a built up area at the time….

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  20. I was that women on the train !!!!!

    Hahahaha hahah only kidding,well done twin boy,he always comes up with the goods when there needed lol
    I thought you’d never do a train trip until they were in the teens after last years blog good on you all, glad your day turned out good x 😀

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