Today I got an early morning text from Mandy.
“Do you know what time it is?” I messaged back.
Mandy is my friend from the US, and she is five hours behind. That means when it’s 7am for me, it is 2am for her.
What was she thinking texting at that crazy hour?
It transpired that it had not been what she was thinking but what she was feeling. She was having a hottie – a royal flush in all its glory.
“WTF,” she said. “I can’t cope.”
She was furious with her hormones ─ for waking her up, for making her life a misery and for giving her frizzy hair.
And it got me thinking …
The first time I experienced a hot flush, it was not one of my own. It belonged to a lady on the train. She was sitting quietly at the end of a row, in a seat for those in need ─ and given what I was to witness, she had every right to be there.
The carriage was full and I found myself folded between passengers right in front of her. I was almost on her lap. I remember her pale skin, brown puffed hair and glasses, and she was fifty (or thereabouts). She was reading a book and she looked like her name was Sally.
I would often observe people on the train. I feel cocooned at times in my small and local life, so I enjoy being reminded of the vast range of humans who share the world with me.
And then it happened.
Sally turned crimson right before my eyes. It was mesmerising to see the colour edge its way from her scoop-necked top, up over her face and towards her hairline.
And then in it. Gross.
I had never seen such a thing and felt horrified and captivated at the same time. As I continued to observe, tiny beads of perspiration appeared on her face, in particular on that unusual spot between one’s nose and lip. I thought I saw her glasses steam, but I couldn’t be sure of that.
I watched as she reached deep inside her bag to extract a white tissue. She mopped her brow and then her lip and did so quietly and discreetly so that no-one there could see.
But I could.
How could I not?
After all, I was folded between passengers right in front of her. I was almost on her lap.
Then, just as quickly as her flush appeared, it was gone. It vanished as if it had never been there and Sally went back to reading her book. And all was well.
I have never forgotten that lady on the train.
And I am sure I never will.
J x
(Shared from my old diaries)
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