ashfield station

i must have the kind of face or countenance which looks helpful or non threatening because i am forever getting confused old ladies asking me for help. at ashfield station this morning the question from a dapper looking lady with a full head of very grey hair and a raincoat just in case was : which train go to ashfield?
- but darling this is ashfield!
she is surprised to receive this information.
i want to go to shops! she declares, after thinking for a while.
- well the shops are over there. down here and turn right over there, i point.
she looks around and disappears in the direction of platform 5.
my train is due on platform 3 in one minute. i watch her descend, slowly, the stairs down to the platform.
- excuse me! hello...?!
she ignores me being completely occupied with negotiating the stairs.
the train due on platform 3 for all stops to museum is delayed by... four... minutes, says the voice on the public address system.
the lady has stopped halfway down the stairs and is looking around and up and down, like a confused muppet. i walk over and call out : excuse me! you won’t be able to get out that way!
she climbs back up again. when she reaches the top of the stairs she says :
wha? but i want to go to shops!
i decide that one of the functions of the artist and writer in residence at ashfield council must be to help old ladies find their way around and i explain again how to get to the shops and say : have you got a ticket?
she produces her ticket and i help her feed it into the turnstile and she begins her walk over to the correct stairs. my train’s arrival is imminent and i hurry down, looking to see if she emerges on the stairs. i board the train and take a seat where i can see the stairs.
still no lady.
the train pulls away.
maybe she caught the lift down.