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October 26, 2019
We’ve just left Wraysbury when I see her. Grey coat, matted hair, stumbling along barely six inches from the rail. Thankfully, I have time to slow to a crawl behind her. I call from the window; she ignores me. I call the signaller, get the juice turned off, don the hi-vis, step down, catch up, try to reason with her. She is unreachable. I walk almost a mile with her, call the police, tell them to be at the next station. Eventually she is arrested. Escapee from a mental hospital. I did what I could. My head is throbbing.