Memories: Incident at Brussels Station

[anotherbanana]

Brussels station

It could and should have been a quick in and out, a meet and greet, I sit in the car with the motor running while daughter grabs the traveller, then off to dinner, done it dozens of times..... but it wasn't to be, oh me oh my, no, it wasn't to be so simple. It turned out to be a long and boring labour of love followed by a race across town in peak traffic, with thanks to a new satnav.

We are in Brussels, or is it Bruxelles, or Brussel or even Broeksel, the spelling seems to change from street to street? And talking of name changes, the name of Mons is Bergen in some places and Mons in others - and that is just on the Ring.

Anyway, we pop off to Brussels MIDI Station, the one where the TGV arrives, to do a 1600hrs pick up, elderly person coming from Liège, straight line, no changes, done the trip before several times, meet at the meeting point, simplessss... hahaha!

Let's do a bit of people watching we say, and make it in time for a leisurely coffee, say half an hour early. Which we do, my elder daughter and I, and enjoy a happy moment, discussing the travellers, their fashions, what their destinations might be, whether they are lovers or not, if the girl by the pillar is looking for business (she was not), until the appointed hour. Then we go to the 'meeting place'.

And we wait, but no elderly person, zilch, just another, very English lady of the old school whose 80 year old deaf and a bit confused husband who refuses to turn his mobile on, has gone missing on the station. Several hours ago. We sympathize - and wait. And worry.

And decide to wait for the next train, half an hour later. We walk up and down, watching, looking, checking. We phone the old person's mobile number which apparently does not exist. By this time, my daughter has steam coming out of her ears.

So we meet the next train (1700hrs) and walk up and down and check the crowd and phone the old person's home number and go back to the meeting place. And sympathise again with the English lady. And it is Good Friday and the crowd is growing fast

And again (1730 hrs). And the boy scouts take over the meeting place for a sing song which sounds like something to do with Ding Dang Boobie on The Line, We All Sing Together All the Time, except it is in Dutch or Flemish or something and we don't get the words, so it could be the Icelandic national anthem for all we know.

And again (1800hrs). They are still singing to each other, and now sound like football fans on the rampage and the audience has grown and is clapping and recovering their brats and the little of English lady is crushed in a corner looking as if she might scream.

My daughter's phone rings; a flower shop at the Gare CENTRALE, with a message: "I got off the train at the station and waited for you for two hours. And waited.... but you were not there. Then I tried to phone but it doesn't work - I forgot to charge it and I can only do that at a post office and it is shut. And the lady in the florist's phoned for me and told me I was at the wrong station. What shall I do?" (1825hrs).

We drive, in a city I do not know, quite hard, as fast as the late rush hour and Mr Garmin would permit and retrieve her, very confused(1900hrs).

It would have been quicker to cut out the train completely and go get her and bring her back.

The morals of the story are: Do not give old ladies free tickets on the railway even if it is a straight line journey, make sure their phones are charged, keep a full tank of fuel and a decent satnav handy and loadsa money to feed the parking meter!!

Oh, and the Belgian police on the station are scruffy and unkempt and go round stuffing their faces on duty. Not nice!