Two strangers meet in a northern town, probably for a first date, and almost at once both know it isn't going to work. The poem follows the evening step by step: the nervous smiles, the stiff "Hello," the pub, the drinks, the walk to the station. Nothing dramatic happens, and that is the point. The speaker's small reactions, frowning at a cigarette, straightening his tie, tasting sharp cider beside flat lager, show how awkward and mismatched the two are.
The mood is flat, polite and a little wry. Neither person is unkind, and they don't argue. They simply sit through the disappointment until it is clear to them both. The strongest moment comes at the station, where they say nothing yet "both understood" the ending. The final couplet delivers the verdict in blunt, almost businesslike words, "No chemistry," followed by a single kiss and a formal "Adieu." It feels like good manners covering a mild sadness, and the speaker seems resigned rather than heartbroken.