Champagne corks a-popping
Whoo-hoo!
Cheers!
Picnic hampers neatly spread across carriage tabletops,
displaying supermarket and home-made savouries:
sophisticated scran—including the obligatory sausage rolls
and Victoria sponge.
As the good folk set off on their jollies—
Cheltenham-bound;
all suited and booted,
all joyous and jubilant.
Fair play to them, I say.
May the best horse win.
Meanwhile, in the corner,
me and my decaf,
me and my nervous system—in tatters.
Behind oversized sunnies,
a quiet surge of relief—no one the wiser—
as if it were owed.
But I will disembark well before their destination.
A day—solo—
a sliver of solitude interwoven with the crowds.
Guilt and shared grief
left waiting
on the Lewes to London platform two.
A day off,
a day out,
a day to forget,
to live beyond the headlines—
the familiar run of questions:
Any contact today?
How close is it getting?
Do they have everything they need?
Is it time to leave?
Time to revel in the humdrum,
in the quiet grace of normality—
a small slice of something
and perhaps
Victoria sponge too.
And then I shall return
to us and
the line we know.
© emmalumsden 11/03/26
Illustration: Claire Palmer
.