Talking Point with Vicky Turrell: 'The train now standing…' except that the train was not standing

‘The train now standing…’ except that the train was not standing. It was late. Delayed behind other delayed trains.

We were going to the Edinburgh Fringe. I have always wanted to go to the Fringe and I thought I had better hurry up and go, as time is getting on.

The train appeared eventually, but as we were hurrying along, it came to a full stop. A train ahead had broken down and had to be pulled away.

There was a little family opposite me: a new mother, a first-time grandmother and baby Lucas. The staff were attentive and the food was good, so we settled down to wait.

The family men had gone up to Scotland in the car to take all the baby gear. They had begun by having bets as to who would arrive first: car or train?

We waited, and the news came by text that the car was already at the accommodation. The car had won.

Baby Lucas began to cry, but soon we were on our way too, snaking through the lush green fields and rushing rivers. We hardly dared think of the dry desert garden we had left behind.

The show was ‘Scottish music’. And, of course, the first performance was with bagpipes. Mr T does not like bagpipes. I glanced sideways and held my breath. But there was no need to worry, because there were lots of different guitars, fiddles and violins to enjoy.

At one point they asked for volunteers to dance the Gay Gordons. It took me all my time to resist going on stage. I know the dance from school, but it would perhaps not have been a wise move to test my 80-year-old legs with a jig when they need help to step on the train.

We went to see ‘Life on a Thread’ the next day. We dodged the downpours and the jostling streets, following young people who helped us all the way.

There was a rope on two pulleys and gymnasts in green tops and trousers who climbed effortlessly up and down. I remember going to secondary school. I had been climbing ropes all my life on the farm, but in this gym it was not the correct way and I had to learn all over again.

The rope seemed to have a life of its own, snaking like our train through greenery as the agile dancers counterbalanced each other, working together. Pulling and climbing into space, in time to the music.

The village taxi driver picked us up in Crewe.

“We would not believe our garden,” he said. It had been raining all the time we had been away.

It is nearly time for the lawnmower.