Well, please bear with me. I am writing this blog under the influence of alcohol. I will do my utmost to avoid errors - and come back later to clean up too.
So, day three of train madness, another day at the mercy of South West Trains -argh!!!!!
With the loopiness of the past two days, I was foolish, yes foolish, to believe that today would be a normal trip in to work. I woke up with my alarm and didn’t feel like death for once (I think this is largely as a result of falling asleep before 9pm last night - oh yes, check out my party animal antics). I was up 30 minutes earlier than usual, had a great shower etc etc and thought to myself “oh, what a fantastic day”. Even further to this, I saw my LFTC on the way to the station. I haven’t seen him in a while. For those not in the know, LFTC - aka Lad From The Corner - is someone I see practically every day at the corner as I make the tired trek to the station. We have gotten past the smiling and nodding stages to actually say “hello”. Today though it was so dark that I couldn’t make him out (I was on the other side of the road as well) but when I realised he was waving (yes, he was actually waving!) at me, I waved back and gave a big (if totally confused) smile. I also recall thinking that the temperature was perfect. It was warm enough that, in my SUWC jumper (yay, dress-down Friday!!) I wasn’t shivering, yet cold enough that I wasn’t sweating like a complete pig when I arrived at the station. AND it wasn’t raining. All good with the weather then. This put me in a relatively good mood, for that hour of the morning, because I am British and the weather matters to British people…
Right, back to my ranting. Ah yes, got on the train as usual. Sat next to Winchy Commuter Boy and got out my print out of the company annual review to read and edit. I admit that this was an optomistic gesture. Well, the fact that I have used the word “gesture” speaks volumes. Anyway, I was kinda reading it, but really not at all because my iPod was taking up my attention, along with worrying about something that I won’t share here for the moment. The train pulled off at 7.30am just fine. Then we got to a bit past E. And stopped.
So, there we were in the depths of the glorious Hampshire countryside. The guard came over the tannoy and said that we were waiting at a signal box and that it wouldn’t talk to us. I am not kidding you; I think that he might have been taking something. It was all rather surreal - there was mist hanging over the fields and for a second I thought I was still asleep. Then I realised that no, it wasn’t a dream. I wasn’t trapped on a train on the set of the Bowie masterpiece Labyrinth. It was all real and I was going to be late for work… again.
Ok, so we waited for a looooooong time. And then we started moving again. “Hoorah,” I thought. But no. It was a cruel attempt to get our hopes up. We moved all of, oooooh, about 100 yards. Then we stopped again. And this time my carriage was under a road bridge. Now, don’t get me wrong. As someone working in the engineering sector I appreciate a good piece of engineering (and this bridge was up there with the best) and the walls looked absolutely fantastic (for bridge walls) but, oh my god, what a crap view, if we are really honest here. Bridge walls. Well, they’re not known for being easy on the eye. There aren’t many posters sold where the subject is “Bridge Wall”. See what I mean? I think the train driver did this on purpose just to pee me off a bit more.
Ok so, then we really did start moving again. And we got as far as Sh. I am not doing very well explaining distances and times, but this is not a lot of distance (from the origin) and a whole lotta time. They (whoever “they” are - South West Train fuckers, I mean, bosses I expect) left us there for ages. While we were stuck there (a lovely leafy little station), the guard came down to check tickets. As he passed someone asked him: “why the delay?” He responded that he had no idea and that he had been “promised a clear and fast run to London this morning”. I thought to myself: “yeah, or your bosses are just fucking liars.”
So, we are there for, like, ever. Then the guard (he has obviously gotten back to his little box) comes over the tannoy and informs all those congregated (well, it’s not like we can go anywhere is it!) that there has been a total signal failure. Fantastic! Hoorah! Whoopidoo! Look how thrilled I am!
All signals in the W area have failed. Now we just wait for a reason. Which comes about ten minutes later. Oh, wait for this. Really, it is good… The reason? CONDENSATION ON THE LINE! What the fuck?!?!?!!?!?!?! Conden-fucking-sation!? Oh, please tell me that this is a joke?! I mean, I have heard of leaves on the line causing a problem, and sometimes frozen points.. but condensation? I am right that condensation is a fine layer of water right? The definition of it hasn’t changed between now and when I studied physics at GCSE? It’s hardly acid dissolving the tracks. What happens when it rains for crying out loud?!!?
What a ridiculous excuse. I suppose they will be upping the price of travel tickets to pay for the costs of employing people to walk the length of the track with towels, drying it off so that trains can operate? This will, naturally, be on top of the costs of paying other manual workers to sweep leaves off the line later in the year when autumn decides to wreak havoc with the train system.
Christ this is long and I am nowhere near finishing!!!
Anyway, we eventually make it to W. It took over an hour - ordinarily about 15 minutes. I called Tom to see if he was hiding in the crowd on the opposite platform. He, rather smugly, informed me that he was in car heading to work and expressed a hope that I made it to work before 5pm. Very funny. I promptly stole his joke and texted some close friends.
Eventually we left W and got held up at loads more signals before the guard said that we were now past the fault and heading off at a decent speed to B. Hang on, B? That’s not a stop on this service. Oh, well, it is now. And Wk too. As if we are not late enough!!!!!
At B things got even worse. Is that possible?! We arrived there at about 9am. By this time the bulk of the commuter rush was over - yes, even today with this diabolical service. So most people getting on the train were what I like to call NRUs - non-regular users. Also known as complete morons. Included within this broader category is a subset entitled “stupid teenage girls” and a collection of these decided to get on to my carriage. I expect that this was just to piss me off even more.
They were obviously totally oblivious to the nightmare that the rest of us poor passengers had already endured, and proceeded to partake in mundane and ridiculously stupid chit chat. Lots of stupid high-pitched laughing and whittering on about absolutely nothing. My blood was boiling. I even tried to turn my iPod up and become one of those tsk tsk tsking people that I ordinarily hate (see yesterday’s blog). But STILL I could hear them, assaulting the sanctuary of my ears. Stupid little…. Argh, it was touch and go whether I would become a murderer before the train reached London and I would be thrown into the cells and then never get to work (my hopes weren’t all that high anyway to be fair…)
It did tickle me that at one point Basement Jaxx came on my iPod - “Red Alert” - and I laughed inwardly at “red alert, red alert, it’s a catastrophe… but don’t worry, don’t panic” - erm, I’m not panicking, I am just PISSED off that I pay stupid sums of money a month to get stuck on a train!!!!!! Oh and “the music keeps on playing on and on…” Yes, yes it does. Thank the Lord (when I believe in Him) for iPods.
So, I was, therefore, EVEN MORE grateful when we got to Clapham and I got up and fought my way along the length of the train to get as near to the front as possible and thus reduce the walk along the platform. The tube was a dream in comparison and I finally dragged myself into the office at 10.30am. Muchos joke-os about having a good journey and “good afternoon” s later (yes, I just smiled and laughed - how very mature of me) and then I was confronted with a pile of envelopes, flyers and letters to stuff. Oh the glamour…
So, following on from earlier… South West Trains. There are no words. Except for “bastards” - naturally. 
