The Wrong Carriage

I stood one carriage down from my normal spot. Train pulled in and opened its doors. Only on stepping in did I realise that two whole lengths of seats wer crammed with excitable seven year olds on a school trip. Two to a seat frequently. Adult supervisors struggling to make them all sit down, be calm and be quiet. Packed lunches and bags. Squabbles over who sits next to whom. Chatting. Laughing. Noses pressed up to the window hoods shielding the light to see into the tunnel. Finding amusement in the curved glass of the doors as if it were a hall of mirrors.

And then they got off. Phew. Calm restored.