Another ending. The end of England for three weeks. I’ve eaten an inadequate breakfast from The Station Pantry and I’m drinking the coffee and watching people as they arrive in the Eurostar waiting zone. There is a man who seems to have a harem. He was sitting alone when a passing woman greeted him and they fell together into smiling conversation. Another woman joined them. I looked away and the first two had gone and a third was sitting next to him, close exchanges taking place. The first woman returned and tried to join in again; the third woman stretched out a leg, covered in a long green dress, and put her foot on her suitcase.

A T-shirt ‘Built in the sixties, original, unrestored. Some parts in working order.’ on a large unapologetic woman floats past.

The man with the harem has many facial expressions: an open mouthed laugh, a wrinkled brow, an attentive stare. Somewhere unseen the third woman is looking out for an opening.

The waiting zone is filling up; soon we will be herded onto our train. Louise is travelling in Seat 61.