AFTER WORK YESTERDAY, l made my way to the train station. Annoyingly, the London Overground train was cancelled, AGAIN. I stood there wondering how l was going to get back home in time to pick up my daughter. This happens often, but l never get used to it. The feeling is the same every time. It is one of exasperation. How infuriating that it always happens in the rush hour, after 5pm when we are all trying to get home. 

Anyway, l made my way to Blackfriars station. Thankfully, l did not have to wait for long before the Thameslink train arrived. As l dashed onto the train l heard a man behind me mumble quite clearly the words.

“Stupid woman!”

Huh! Was he referring to me? I wondered to myself. I looked at the passengers coming in with us and l was the only woman. I knew then that it was definitely me. The man sat on the seat on the opposite side of the aisle to me. I looked at him and wondered what l did to deserve that insult. He refused to make eye contact. He was a middle-aged man in a grey suit. He must be on his way home from work and probably had a stressful day. So, l decided to ignore it. I had bigger things to worry about anyway. Like organising the service of songs ceremony for my late father. *Sigh!*

However, the young Caucasian man sitting opposite me heard the insult from that man. He looked at me and then at the silly man. (I named him ‘Mr RudeMan’). He glared angrily at ‘Mr RudeMan’ and for a moment l thought he was going to tell him off.

Wow! How nice to meet such a gallant young man on the train who wants to run to my defence. However, l did not want that. So, l just smiled at the gallant one. He asked me this question:

“Did he just call you a stupid woman?”

“No, l think he was referring to someone else. Maybe he was on the phone.” I replied.

This is entirely possible though because people use Bluetooth these days which is often tucked in their ears and covered by their hair. So do not think everyone is talking to themselves if you do not see a headphone.

Anyway, back to my tale. The gallant one must have believed me because he stopped glaring at ‘Mr RudeMan’ who continued to ignore us and bury his head in the Evening Standard newspaper. I smiled and said thank you to the gallant one. How sweet!

‘Calamity’ averted, l brought out my laptop and started working on the plan for the service of songs. I believed there was no point confronting ‘Mr RudeMan’ because he was just a passenger l would never meet again. 

That was not to be though because as l got down at my destination, ‘Mr RudeMan’ got off the train too. Wo wo! Now fate has just presented me with an opportunity to address the issue.

What is the best course of action in that situation?

What would you do if you were in my shoes at that moment?

If you have read my latest book, A CARRIAGE FULL OF LAUGHS, you will learn of my resolve to ‘Woman-Up’ and never tolerate such behaviour during my commute anymore. So, for what it is worth, l needed to find out why l was called a stupid woman by a stranger.

This conversation ensued when we left the train:

“Did you call me a stupid woman? I asked him.

"Yes, l did because you shoved me with your bag as you entered the train”. He replied self-righteously.

“Oh no! Sorry about that. I did not notice” Was my apologetic response.

“It’s ok. I shouldn’t have called you stupid l am sorry about that. It’s been a long day” he said, suddenly apologetic.

“It’s ok, l understand. My train was cancelled and l was in a hurry to get home. It wasn’t deliberate”. I explained with a smile.

“Mine too” he said, smiling back.

(I think it is fair to say the London Overground or TFL was to blame for this unpleasant experience). 

“Oh no! I must rush off”. I said, looking at my watch. “Bye”

“Bye” he said. “Watch the bag”. He added and he was laughing as l ran off.

How cheeky! I thought. I laughed too and kept going. He was right about my bag though. I must stop shoving people with it and l made sure of that.

I am glad l asked him, otherwise l would have gone away thinking it was another ‘racist attack’ when it was all my fault for shoving him with my bag. 

I felt better about it. All was right with the world again.