Something really very strange happened today, that I could put down to empathy, coincidence, or imagination. I’ve decide to talk about it here, in order to see if you, or anyone else out there has any views on the matter.

As background, you really need to know that, bizarre though it may sound to some, I love small spaces. Being a short person (5′ standing up straight with a bit of luck behind me) small spaces usually feel like “home”. Rather than being claustrophobic, to me, they feel cosy, and,  ”just the right size”.

Which means Tube journeys are actually quite pleasant for me, and a chance just to switch my brain into a free-floating, relaxed kind of mode. The kind of mode in which a person tends to pay not a wit of attention anything other than their daydream.

So imagine, when in the middle of this relaxed mode, and my journey, came the thought, clearly and distinctly, “These tube trains really aren’t big enough,” as space within the train seemed, in my perception, to “shrink” by 30% or more.

As a lover of small spaces, I was deeply perplexed by this. Then, came another thought, “Are you sure this feeling belongs to you?”

So I began to look around. And sure enough, there was something striking (or striking once I was actually paying attention to my surroundings, anyway). On one of the coldest days this year-trust me, it was freezing and even pretty cold underground-the man opposite me was twiddling with the air vents, trying to let more cold air in to the carriage. Next, he started pacing around the empty seats nearby. (This is not something people do on the Tube either. Sitting or standing in fixed and rigid silence, yes. Pacing around? Absolutely not. He was also sweating-although fair enough, he could have had the ‘flu.

Finally, when he did come to a standstill, he began gripping the grabrail, with knuckles as white as a thrill-seeker’s at the fair.Even though the train was just moving along as normal, he was hanging on for dear life.

Once I had spotted all of this, my perception of the train’s size bagan to return to normal. To my eternal shame though, I chickened out of asking the chap whether he was OK. I told myself that if someone was clearly trying to hide their fear, they wouldn’t want someone else to notice it. And the last thing a big burly man wants is to be seen to be weak in public, I reasoned.

So I settled for the harmless and probably slightly cowardly course of feeling “good vibes” and imagining they were pumping out into the carriage…And lost the chance, not only to help, but also to prove whether this was empathy,  coincidence or imagination.

The real surprise came when I told my Long-Suffering Spouse the tale on returning home. Now, if you’ve read this blog for any length of time, you’ll know that my LSS prides himself somewhat on being highly rational. So, I was expecting many counter arguments, and maybe a friendly snort or two.

Instead, and without my prompting, LSS was as perplexed as me, knowing as he does, my love of small spaces. Finally, he turned and said,

“It could be empathy”.

I had, and have, no definitive answers. But if you do, please post a comment about this!