I’d Have Been Quicker Walking

I suppose I should have realised that there was something wrong when I approached the station platform to find far too many people milling about looking disgruntled. The announcement board told the story of their and my impending misery with its stark “Train Delayed”. Since I started my adventures in train travel there have been many imaginative reasons for train delays and cancellations. As well as the infamous “leaf on the line” and “the wrong kind of rain” other memorable excuses have included “the driver didn’t turn up this morning” (and we couldn’t be bothered to find a replacement), and “stormy conditions the previous night” (a slightly stronger wind than normal which let’s be honest, in Scotland we should be able to cope with).

Whatever the reason for the delay, we were never informed and eventually a train hauled itself along the track in the direction of the platform. Of course not the platform it was supposed to be at and we all had to shuffle our way through the throng of passengers whose trains had come in on time and were now rushing in the opposite direction.

When the doors opened we collapsed into the train as if our lives depended on it. Despite it having seemed to be an empty train when we started to step aboard, somewhat miraculously as soon as we were inside all the seats were taken. We were lucky to have got on mind you and felt for those with sadness and anger in their faces who we left behind. They could only watch helplessly as the doors shut in their faces leaving them to whatever fate they imagined awaited on the platform. Let’s be honest their fate would probably be their spouses shouting at them for being late and the dinner being ruined so it probably was a fate worse than death.

The train started its crawl out of the station like a sick old man, coughing and spluttering as he contemplated the last moments of his life. In stark contrast trim eager young trains set off beside us at an energetic pace and at least three had passed us before we even met the daylight outside the station walls. Even the posh voiced taped announcer sounded sick.

"Thi..i..i..i..s train is urgh"

"The…next…stop…will…aargh"

We didn’t hear any more. Either she had expired or she had thrown herself from the train in misery. We never did find out.

The train struggled on. Sometimes stopping for a breather and then hauling itself into unwilling motion again. No conductor came to take tickets and with the loss of the announcer we really hoped that someone was actually driving the train. Eventually, and thankfully, the train came to a standstill at my stop, taking roughly double the time it normally takes. I only hope for the other passengers’ sakes that it made it to the end of its painful journey.

I think I’ll take the car in tomorrow.

Kids These Days

Hooray – I’ve made it through to the second day of my new job. I think that there was relief all round when I turned up this morning after yesterday’s run through of all the numerous tasks that had been allocated to little old me.

Yesterday on the way home from work on the train I encountered one of those horrors of children, recalcitrant and cruelly joined to an ineffectual mother. The child could possibly have been quite cute in a pleasanter alternative reality but his screwed up childish pout put paid to any notion of that. Said child had one of the biggest helium balloons I had ever seen tied onto his wrist which was battering into everyone within the radius of half the carriage. Mother, as you’ve probably already guessed, did absolutely nothing. Our balloon misery experience was intensified by an open window which gave the balloons trajectory more force as it thwacked into faces and rendered the reading of newspapers impossible. Grown men grew apoplectic with rage but, as is the British way, said nothing. At one point the boy whined that he wanted the balloon untied from his wrist, and when Mother said no in a rare moment of activity, he then proceeded to wave the balloon about even more maniacally. Everyone in the carriage was giving the boy and the mother dirty looks but she appeared to be oblivious and continued to do absolutely nothing as the balloon whipped into the faces of all the nearby passengers with gay abandon. The mother did say something about cutting it off his wrist when they got home. I was very tempted to find a pair of scissors and not only cut the thing off his wrist but also to burst his blessed balloon there and then. That would have shown them both.

When ah were a lass I wouldn’t have been allowed a helium balloon, never mind been allowed to take it on a train. Come to think about it, it is very possible that when ah were a lass they hadn’t yet been invented. Ooh, in my day it were a crust of bread before bed if you were lucky. Kids these days eh!