Escalators.

  In retrospect I will realise that I am already quite stressed when I get off the train and walk through the doors to be confronted by the steepest set of escalators I have ever had the misfortune to encounter. There have been changes and garbled messages that have added to my uncertainty and now, having panicked at a change in the ontrain destination screen I have got off the train a stop early and now have to explain to my friend why she has to go further out of her way to meet me. I am feeling thoughtless in the sense of being unable to think clearly and thoughtless in the sense of inconveniencing someone and my mood, therefore, cannot be said to be ideal.

 The escalator rises up, steep and relentless in its motion. Never stopping, constant up and rolling motion that doesn’t allow for any individual difficulties the person might have when encountering it. I read the instructions several times, then take my older lad out of his buggy and get him to hold my hand. There are no worries about him, he adores going up these contraptions and most of the time I’m pretty ambivalent towards them, Except today, when having to hold his hand and hold onto the buggy as well means that I can’t get a balance on the bottom step. To those watching my actions would probably seem ludicrous, even laughable. I take a step and place my son on the step as well. I move my other foot forward and then sway backwards. It’s an act that should be simple, should present with no difficulties and yet I cannot counter my co-ordination problems. Later, I will realise that I should have placed my son on first and got on the step below him, dragging the buggy behind me, but now, in the state I am in, rational thought and myself are not compatible.

 Then it happens. My legs seem to freeze, my mind stops even trying to think of solutions and I’m standing at the bottom at in tears, trying to quell the rising wave of panic that is starting to grip me. I remain gripped by an inertia brought on by stress and worry and uncordination, an intertia that hasn’t held onto me this strongly for weeks and I’m staring up at the seemingly impossible before me.

 It appears to be an eternity, but i nreality can only be a couple of minutes before the next train pulls in and a man approaches the same set of moving steps. Straightaway he offers to hold the buggy and, with more gratitude and relief than I can show I thank him and take my son’s hand, no longer trying to balance and co-ordinate to the same extent. I phone my friend who later tells me that there is, in fact, a lift I could have taken and had I gone out a different exit I would have discovered this. I do my upmost to pretend this was not said.

  And now I am looking through a recipe book, trying to work out how to go about preparing one of the meals. “A medium sized onion.” How large is that exactly? What if I go to the supermarket and there are no medium sized onions? “Dripping?” I can’t abide the thought of dripping. Can I dry fry it? Use oil? There are so many steps to this recipe, I’ll never remember them, I’m getting confused just looking at it and yet the result would be rather nice.

 I look at it again. Look at the ingredients. Check my cupboard and realise I have most of them and those that I don’t have can be replaced. I put down the book, ignoring it and start making up my own recipe. It turns out to bear as much resemblance to the one in the book as a domestic cat does to a tiger, but it works well. I have found alternative to a seemingly insurmountable problem.

    There are times when the escalator cannot be tackled on its own. Sometimes someone will lend you a hand. Sometimes you will find an alternative and bypass the problem. Sadly, sometimes you will be left standing at the bottom waiting until you can see a way up it yourself. For those of you standing at the bottom of your own escalators I hope someone carries some of your load for you, or directs you to a different way.