My memory is leaving me.
This morning I packed a suitcase with clothes and my Hungarian goose down pillow ready for my next business trip. The intention was to leave the suitcase in the office, so I could travel at short notice. But then I met the crossword man on the platform and started chatting to him. We were soon joined by Jan, my colleague, and the three of us talked about heirlooms and how these were more valuable than Nikon cameras and so on. Generally shooting the breeze, but enough to make me forget all about my suitcase which I had stored on the luggage rack near the doors.

When I saw Jan at the train station, I wanted to ask her to remind me, but I was mesmerised by the enthralling stories of the crossword man and forgot that as well. As we were entering our office reception, I realised my folly. I ran to the lost property office at Southampton Central.
Meeting the station supervisor, I began, ‘I travelled from Chandler’s Ford and…’
‘Nice place, Chandler’s Ford’, he quipped.
I smiled and continued ‘… forgot my suitcase in the train’.
After establishing which train what coach and so on, he took my business card and said he would call me. After a couple of hours I had a phone call from him informing me that my suitcase was located and was held in Salisbury. If I didn’t collect it in the next two days, it would be sent to London Waterloo!
After work I went to the supervisor’s office who gave me a permit to travel to Salisbury. Forty minutes journey time, five minutes to find the lost property office and I got my suitcase. Happy 👯.
From Salisbury, I took a train to Romsey, a twenty minute ride. I said to the young man sitting next to me, ‘At Romsey, would you please remind me to take my suitcase from the luggage rack? I have a terrible memory’.

As the train approached Romsey, I shut the book I was reading and got up. The lad tapped me on my arm, ‘Don’t forget your suitcase’.
The prankster in me couldn’t help it. I looked at him blankly and asked, ‘Suitcase? What suitcase?’
For a few seconds he was completely perplexed. Then I smiled at him and said, ‘Sorry mate, just joking’.
I think he liked my antic because his face just lit up with a broad smile.
Romsey station
Now Romsey can be confusing. The trains do circular routes and one can get to Chandler’s Ford in 7 minutes clockwise and 45 minutes anti. I couldn’t figure out which platform I needed for the shorter journey. So I hit the information button and this Indian woman came on the line.
‘I just want to know the platform for Chandler’s Ford … you know, the one that gets there at 1714?’.
She asked me to spell it. C H A N D L E R S F O R D Charlie, Hotel, Alpha, November… I was surely going to miss my train.
‘I am sorry sir, there is no station by that name’.
It was there that morning! I wanted to tell her that indeed there is one and I travel everyday to work from there, I have lived there for the past 6 years and so on. But I desisted as a small crowd was discreetly listening to the conversation between the coconut Indian and the call centre Indian. I just said thank you and started to walk away when she started speaking again.
‘Yes yes’, she said sounding like Columbus. ‘I have found it’.
Hurrah! And?

‘There is a train at 1707 from platform 2’.
‘Thank you, thank you’, I ran to my train which was just pulling in at platform 2. This time I didn’t sit. I stood with my suitcase 💼 next to me. I am back home. Now I am looking at worst case scenarios including sleepless nights in hotel rooms without my Hungarian goose down pillow. Or maybe I will try again on Monday, if I remember…
Before I sign off, a big Thank you to the smart supervisor at South West Trains, an apology to the young lad on whom I played a minor prank and a Sabash to the Indian call centre woman for discovering Chandler’s Ford. I need to travel next week to Llanfairpwllgwyngyll in Anglesey, Wales. I am going to carry a timetable this time.

The writer has published the original post on blogspot in September 2016: Memory: I am sure I knew what it meant.
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Lovely post. Getting to Chandler’s Ford from Romsey can be confusing if you don’t already know there are TWO routes!
Dear Gopi,
This is a great article. The story is very funny and I could relate to your confusion at Romsey station.
I know the circular routes at Romsey station “and one can get to Chandler’s Ford in 7 minutes clockwise and 45 minutes anti”. Once I had this very long train journey home from Romsey – and realised that I was at the wrong platform and was taking round and round the countryside. That journey felt like eternity (and couldn’t stop hating myself!) as I knew there was a much shorter journey home (just ONE stop). Since then, everytime I’m at Romsey station, I am extremely careful, and have to dash to another platform sometimes to catch the right train. This is something Romsey station needs to improve – improve signage and information given.
You mentioned ‘coconut Indian and the call centre Indian’ – perhaps you might like to explain the connotation of a ‘coconut Indian’, or perhaps I’m the only one whe didn’t quite get it at the beginning?
Keep it up and thanks for sharing and joining Chandler’s Ford Today.
Coconut Indian (or Asian) – brown on the outside but white on the inside. Unlike me in Sri Lanka – a Woodapple Brit – White on the outside but trying to be brown on the inside. Is that right, Gopi?
Our cook here is very confused by our visiting friends from England because one of them is obviously Indian. Yes, born and bred in England but with Indian parents. She was equally confused to learn that her husband has an Italian mother.
I told her that it was confusing for us in Sri Lanka because they have Sinhala, Tamil, Moors, Burghers and Veddah. How do you tell the difference, and does it matter anyway?
Chinese called those ‘yellow on the outside, white on the inside’ a ‘Banana’, of course in most cases, it’s a derogatory term.
Recently I was considered a ‘Banana’ by some people, as I shared my view that no Chinese music could ever match Leonard Cohen’s music (his soul, his depth, his creativity, his poems…). This upset some people and I was challenged to go back and live there again to find these equally great Chinese artists. (Of course Leonard Cohen is always the best.) Some of my friends and family also consider some of my behavours charisteristics of typical ‘Bananas’ (like saying ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ all the time, speaking my mind, being too stupid…).
My son went on a trip to Romsey recently with a group of Scouts.
On their return trip to Chandler’s Ford in the evening, The found themselves ‘stuck’ on the train, as they were unable to open the door at Chandler’s Ford station. They then had to get off at Eastleigh instead.
I guessed it might have been that ‘the doors at the first / last carriage won’t be opened’. Now I learnt something equally important from this Romsey – Chandler’s Ford trip.