From Paul Tester, author of “The All Day Girls“. This is the last in this section of train station sightings featuring older women.
An older lady who was dressed as if she had been a hippy when younger. She was quite tall, slim with long black hair that was turning grey; she was wearing a long, flowing skirt and denim jacket.
She was in a hurry to get to the Ladies, and as she tried so hard to open the locked door, I heard her say “Fucking Hell”, showing her annoyance at not being able to pee. She looked round the station for somewhere else to pee, appeared to think about using the Gents, but decided against that. She found a seat near the back of the station and sat down, crossed her legs as tightly as she could. She hooked one foot behind the other leg, so as to squeeze them tightly, as she needed all the help she could get to hold back her pee.
Soon it appeared that leg crossing was not enough to hold back the pressure in her bladder, because she was sitting on her hands, and squirming about on the seat. Not the normal way anyone sits, but only if they are trying to reach up between their legs and press on their pee outlet in a bid to hold it in. This must have helped her for a bit, but her bladder pressure was rising and soon she had her hands in her lap and was then pressing between her legs from the front, holding herself in the normal way, and perhaps able to counter the riding pressure in her bladder. As she did this, she looked round to see if anyone was near enough to see what she was doing, but must have decided that I was insignificant and would not be aware that she was holding her crutch in desperation.
Apparently thinking that nobody knew that she was holding her crutch, and also becoming more desperate, she then began to hold herself with both hands, pressing her fingers hard between her legs. I was doing my best to remain inconspicuous, while still being able to see her holding. She looked at her watch, and then the train departures board, perhaps to see how longer she had to wait, then, as her train was signaled, she had to get up and walk down the platform. She did this with some difficulty, struggling to control her bladder. She was walking with the tense, almost straight leg and on tip-toe manner of somebody desperately trying to hold back their pee. To make her condition more obvious, to me at least, she was holding her skirt, bunched up over her thighs, with tightly clenched hands.
Walking like this, she made it onto her train, which like most, did not have any toilets. At least on the train she would have been able to sit again and if there were not too many passengers she could have held her crutch again, but even with such help, how long could she wait? Twenty to thirty minutes to her stop? Would she have any more chance of a pee there? Or would she have to walk home before the relief she so desperately needed?
She must have known what she was letting herself in for, so why didn’t she make more effort to find somewhere to pee before leaving London? I can only think that she was drunk and not thinking clearly, and she could only respond to the immediate need, which was to hold back her pee. Could she have waited more than twenty minutes when she already needed the pressure of two hands to hold in her pee? Did she wet herself on the train?