This blog is about a surreal moment on the London-to-Paris Eurostar. Following a troubling observation coupled with some careful negotiation, it was me, not the train manager, who made one of the announcements over the train’s public address system. I don’t know how many of the 900 or so passengers heard what I said or took any notice, but I do know that for me making the announcement was a challenge and one in which I felt something important was achieved.

The escapade started when I was standing waiting for the loo. The corridor there broadens in order to serve as the ‘office’ that houses the train’s intercom system from where announcements are made by the train manager.  By chance, the manager was there preparing to make such an announcement. We chatted – he was a friendly and talkative man – and it was soon clear that while his mother tongue was French, his grasp of English was poor. 

After a few moments, he turned to speak into his microphone. I listened carefully as he welcomed passengers on board in French, explained where they should put their luggage, reminded them of the predicted arrival time in Paris and said that if any one needed assistance he would be wandering up and down the train’s corridor and was happy to help. Next, the message was read out in English but while in French he was clearly at home, his English version was essentially incomprehensible and the fact that his delivery was so poor annoyed me immensely.

As the train’s most senior manager – indeed, on an ocean liner he would be seen as the captain – his job description requires him to speak French and English fluently. However, his delivery was poor which meant that English-speaking passengers, so the majority, were put at a disadvantage, or more strongly, were in fact disenfranchised, and to that I took exception.

With some apprehension I confronted the manager, telling him that his delivery was unacceptable. But I then did more, I said that next time he made an announcement, I would be happy to read out the English version for him. For a moment he said nothing, then with a smile accepted my proposal and we shook hands. After all, it might help him on future occasions. His next announcement would be about the French customs and it was scheduled to be made as the train neared Paris. He asked me where I was sitting and said he would come and fetch me when the announcement was due.

For our journey we were sitting round a table for four and when I returned I told Rohan, and our two fellow-travellers, both businessmen, what had happened. All were amused and interested and keen to see what would happen next. For my part, I felt that I should explain why I had become so involved. As a child, indeed right through to my late teens, I found it almost impossible to speak – to perform – in public and if I did manage to start I would usually ‘freeze’ mid-sentence. Ironically, later, as a University lecturer, speaking in public was my business. To tackle my difficulty, I decided it would help if I developed a set of speaking principles to which I could adhere. The principles were ‘As a speaker my job is to transfer, through words, ideas from my mind into the minds of those in the audience. Nothing should be allowed to get in the way of such transmission’. The train manager’s delivery in no way satisfied my ‘rules’ and I could not stand by and do nothing. By offering to speak, my hope was that he would hear what was possible for next time.

As we neared Paris I waited for the manager to come and collect me – but nothing happened. Then an armed train security guard walked by and, hoping it might help my cause, I explained my position, asking her to remind the manager of our arrangement. 

In seconds he arrived and led me to his ‘office’ where he handed me the English version of his announcement and immediately started his ‘oration’. Once finished he passed me the mike, showed me the on/off switch and told me that my delivery should start immediately. In my clearest English I read the tract slowly and carefully, stressing key words as it seemed appropriate. The announcement lasted less than two minutes, after which he thanked me and, without saying a word, I returned to my seat.

Rohan and my two new companions had heard my announcement and congratulated me on my clarity and on my linguistic adventure. Then, to my surprise one woman sitting on the other side of the corridor and another just behind, joined in – unbeknownst to me they had been following the story and both warmly approved. I would like to think that the train manager also approved. My intervention may have made his job more interesting and his listeners better informed. Who knows – Eurostar may even review their announcement procedures as a result.

For helping write this blog, I would like to thank Rohan and Vivien.