![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixSmr4h7dARZN1R5JpZpksVA4Ijm1v-zVfppP4LTFEiY73Sxi7dYLD9iAJHrq_ya_cUqv0aAwnQN9_TvcQLBPGfUeo3fk5bBaxGPymW8OxXIG6jcvaa1q09YdxKuhs_dOTSZ6FxI1kBPk/s320/Silhouette2.jpg)
Yesterday, on the 9.10 am from Newport to London Paddington a woman had plugged in her laptop and was word-processing furiously. Fiftyish, streaky brass-brown hair tied back carelessly, sharp nose, haggard facial tones, dubious complexion. Garish slit-like glasses (imagine an Alice band that had slipped forward). Gold rings on third finger of both hands. The rest I never noticed or I’ve forgotten.
What caught my eye was her intensity. Her technique was speedy and her lips moved as she spelled out words on the keyboard. Occasionally she referred to a thick, official-looking typed document and then resumed. Too many people merely languish while travelling on trains. She wasn’t languishing and I admired that.
Every time I looked up from my Kindle she was still at it, her lips continuing to shape the words precisely, a gift to even the most modest of lip readers. Though I suspect what she was writing wasn’t as interesting as her sense of application.
As we neared Paddington I was distracted and when I next looked the laptop had been stowed away, glasses off, her hair had been de-secured so that it now bracketed her face, she may even have done a light pass of lipstick. Fine-drawn (one of my mother’s adjectival phrases) and relaxed, she was truly beautiful. Adult beautiful. We went our ways.
PS 1: When typing she was in profile; afterwards, full face. This may explain the transformation.
PS 2: Why was her purposeful state so much more memorable than the revelation she was beautiful?
PS 3: How did I manage to forget those glasses?