20 extra minutes!
I have an empty take-away tea cup. I find the recycling bins along the platform, separate the plastic top from the paper cup and dispose of the deconstructed drinking apparatus appropriately. I find a spot amongst the growing crowd of waiters, waiting for a late train.
I seem to remember that there is something about the Köln train station architecture that I have loved. I look to my left, which according to my instinct, is east-ish, but I have no real proof. (I visualise a map of the city to try to confirm my instinct. According to my mind's eye. the Dom lies just south and on the eastern edge of the railway station. Looking east (I believe) I see it.
I'm right! I knew left was east!
I feel confident with my instinctual sense of direction, though admittedly my mental map cannot qualify as proof).
East-ish is where I find the architectural fancy that caught my fancy. I try to think of the words to describe the wrought iron whims on the eastern-ish side of the train station. "Umbrellas." I initially think without proper satisfaction. The metaphor that I decide upon: giant lace kerchiefs blown up by the wind in the centre yet weighed down where they are tied together on the four edges.
I love this view.
I realise that, because I have quit my job this will be the penultimate time I experience this particular view. I have another trip planned for handover in late February. I will be accompanied then and will probably not have the time, quiet, solitude to enjoy the view.
"You should have enjoyed these trips more." I tell myself, though quickly follow up with forgiveness because I know I am ultra responsible and therefore prone to work related stress, which tends to take the enjoyment out of train station views.
Along the main eastern-ish arch just before and above the whimsical series of lace kerchief arches there is a sign I have seen a number of times, but not yet registered until now. 4711 in a teal-ish, turquoise-ish blue. Under the number it says something in German - an adjective for Köln and "Wasser" which I know is water, and it is only now - thanks to a comment made by a local customer yesterday about Köln's cologne - that I recollect a bottle of this cologne from my childhood; it was always a standard part of my father's cologne collection.
I am no longer surprised by the outlandish associations between present and past, the here and the elsewhere, that happen in my head.
Isn't it strange how the part that stood out the most for me is the bit about separating your drinking cup into the respective recycling bins? I thought I was the only one that bothered to do that (and cares enough to comment on it!)
ReplyDeleteI love how you casually mention that you quit your job. It's one of life's big changes. Like buying a house, getting married, getting un-married. But you make it an aside. You're a cool number.
ReplyDeleteI know the 'white boxing' /plane/train/car/hotelroom/office feeling of not seeing places. I've added my own concept of 'time hubbing' as a way to reduce travel and sometimes see a little more (stay longer, run remote, get out as well as back to the exit transport).
ReplyDeleteI can remember in Cologne that the Cathedral stands particularly tall from the edge of that square, but it's quite difficult to get a good view of all of it because of the surrounding buildings.
I remember sitting outside a small cafe opposite which probably has the best view.
..and every success with the next bit. x
Strangely, my feet felt cold as I read this, makiing me realise that I associate train stations with freezing feet and long waits.
ReplyDelete20 minutes is a terrible length of time to have to wait -- 10 minutes is enough time to grab a coffee and a newspaper before walking calmly to the train; 30 minutes is enough time to sit down, relax, and flick through the paper for a bit before walking calmly to the train.
ReplyDelete20 minutes, on the other hand, is disastrous -- you court tragedy right from the start with the risk of giving the wrong answer to "drink in or take away?", then practically as soon as you've sat down, popped your slippers on, and taken the first puff on your pipe you have to jump up and tear (slipper-shod) across the concourse to catch the train at the last moment, inevitably boarding coach Z when your reservation's in coach A. 20 minutes cheats; it lulls you into a false sense of security by telling you you've got plenty of time, then sneakily drops the second digit to give you a scant 120 seconds to catch up with where you should have been ten minutes ago. 20 minutes spells doom! DOOM!
Where will the new job take you? Spain / London / Stateside?
Wayne ~ I'm glad other people do that too! And glad you latched onto that detail. Makes capturing details worthwhile.
ReplyDeletex
UB ~ A cool number?! I have never been called that before!
Rashbre ~ absolutely impossible to get a decent picture (as a lay photographer) from the front view. you are right!
PG ~ yes! cold feet on platforms. makes me think of Clapham Junction.
Callum ~ Hello and thanks for appreciating how crap 20 minutes as a time period is! No new job. Staying Spain-side.