on the relationship between the senses and the outside world whilst on an underground train

so i was on an underground train today, not a tube train, not "the underground", but an overland train that had gone underground, in fact it began it's journey underground, @ moorgate. it was a beautiful day here in london (as, in fact, it still is), it was rush hour or thereabouts and the train had been delayed, so there was a certain amount of inter-passenger banter, minimal, but there. "is this platform 9 or 10?", "does this train go to highbury & islington?"...

as the train pulled in, still underground, to it's 1st stop, old street, i could smell that "it is about to rain" metallic smell. i had to ask my fellow passenger beside me about it: "do you think it's raining outside?". another passenger interrupted her reading of "ms london" to confirm that she could also smell it. like i say it had been a beautiful day today and rain would seem unlikely, but possible, we spoke of the possibilty of rain, how nice that would be against this heat. being underground you are completely cut off from what otherwise would be such a huge and obvious thing, the rain, or lack of rain.

we pulled into the next stop, essex road, and my fellow passenger, the man beside me who hadn't smelt it, commented on this notion of mine, maybe i was right? although the passengers getting on didn't seem to be wet so it seemed unlikely. Sadly he had been the one asking about highbury & islington, which is the stop before the train comes out overground, so i wasn't able to share the rain / not rain discovery moment with him, although we said goodbye warmly. as we came out at last into bright sunshine and not a hint of rain the woman opposite was once more engaged with her reading, now she'd switched to "metro", and i had that moment of "ok, no rain" alone.

but how odd to have smelt the rain so clearly, as did she, that in the absence of outside experience, deep underground @ old street station, the rain was a real possibility...

this reminds me of another experience i had on this very train line, this time traveling into town, from finsbury park to moorgate. i had bought a croissant and an "innocent" smoothie from sam, who sells such things from a counter just inside the station, as was my wont when i had a bit of money on me, (unlike these days... nother story). Nice guy, i only learnt his name recently, born in iran to swedish parents. An expensive habit but it wasn't just the breakfast, it was the smile and the tiny bit of conversation, sometimes too much in fact, i missed my train once talking to sam.

i was on the train, i'd eaten the croissant, i was having my first taste of the smoothie, some kind of strawberry flavour, i always have the same one. now sometimes i have a cup of tea before i leave the house, but sometimes this smoothie is the first drink of the day, and let's assume this was one such day, making the impact of that smoothie all the more. The taste of that smoothie... it was a beautiful day like today, although earlier in the year, spring, so not as hot, but clear... i shut my eyes to drink my smoothie, and was so enjoying it i had an urge to open my eyes and take in this beautiful sunlight, to balance out the sensations. as i opened my eyes the train went underground. suddenly just sterile electric light and darkness. i was horrified. the taste thing in my mouth was exploding just as before so i shut my eyes again. and i had a fantasy that this taste explosion, denied contact with the sunlight, went underground within me, and somehow fought a battle that led to an explosion which instead of rocking me, completely obliterated me...

such a complete shift, overground to underground, or viceversa. as an aside, taking the train instead of just the tube cuts about ten minutes off my journey to work in the morning...