NECK OF THE WOODS

He said, ‘these seats taken?’
I gestured with my hand their availability and he sat down. I hoped he’d move over but he stayed opposite and I had to move my legs.
‘Could hardly get through,’ he said, ‘what with all the bikes,’ in a Welsh accent.
‘There should be more room,’ I said.
He leaned forward toward me.
‘So many bikes they’re blocking the corridor.’
‘They should make more space,’ I said.
‘I could hardly get through.’
‘They need more space.’
I looked out the window and he read the paper either side of spending £2:50 on two 500ml bottles of Brecon Carreg water bought from the man pushing the trolley through the carriage aisle.
He said, ‘you know where this train came from?’
‘Portsmouth,’ I said.
‘Does it go as far as Southampton?’
‘Southampton’s between here and Portsmouth.’
‘What about Brighton?’ he said.
‘Brighton’s the other side of Portsmouth.’
‘It goes to Brighton at the weekend.’
‘Does it?’
‘Yes.’
‘It go to Swansea too?’
‘Not Swansea, no,’ he said. ‘Stops at Cardiff everyday but it goes to Brighton at the weekend.’
He looked at me and I looked at him.
‘You ever been to Brighton?’ he said.
‘Once.’
‘What’s it like?’
‘Seemed okay. I like Portsmouth though,’ I said as I got up out of my seat to walk the aisle and leave the train.