Commuting gets up my nose – just for a change

12Dec06

Scheduled arrival time at Waterloo: 08:48am
Actual arrival time: 08:53am

Five minutes!!!! Humpf. That might not sound like much but if I am five minutes late on every train journey every day (both to and from work) then that is 50 minutes a week. That amounts to around 4 hours a month. That’s TWO days a year (not including bank holidays or annual leave – whaddy’ee think ee am? A maths genius??!) So, late, late again. And late home last night too – even though I caught the earlier train thanks to working through lunch.

Anyway, much to my delight Winchy Commuter Boy is back. I didn’t ask where he had been for the past few weeks. Commuters all subscribe to a few respected rules, one being “no talking” especially in the mornings. I don’t know Winchy Commuter Boy. I sat next to him once or twice (and read his copy of The Sun that he leaves behind on his seat when he gets off everyday) but it is always nicer to have him there in the morning. Same goes for my other commuter “friends”. It’s just nice to see the same faces every morning. Standing in “our spots” on the platform. Woe betide anyone who tries to take our spots. Well, not really, being English we wouldn’t DREAM of saying anything. Instead we would look cross, and mutter to ourselves and I would probably end up on here ranting about the audacity of that person not being aware that they had taken MY spot. Even if they have never been to S station before and couldn’t possibly know that is my spot.

So, all four of us usual ones were there today: me, Winchy Commuter Boy, Lady With the Blue Scarf and Sun Man. LWTBS and Sun Man were talking to each other on the platform again this morning, they do that quite a lot now. There are other people as well that I see a lot, but I don’t know why but they just don’t register so much. There is Winchy Arty Girl and Short Man with Bald Head who I sometimes mistake for another City Type who sometimes gets my train. Imagine not having a distinctive face? You are easily mistakable for someone else. Perhaps that is a good thing?

Right so, the blonde woman on the platform this morning. She was one of those tall, willowy ladies with great big blue eyes. There was SO much mascara on her lashes that I think they must have been quite heavy! And she had really brushed her lashes right out so that she had this really wide eyed look – a bit like the eyeball scene in A Clockwork Orange. Or not quite like that. Anyway, she was one of these perfectly-preened women. I hate that anyway because I always look like I got pulled through a hedge backwards. Even after brushing my hair. But that wasn’t the issue. Nor was her huge bag. This was the problem: she didn’t have any respect for the rule of getting onto the train. It is quite a simple rule: Remember the order in which people got to the platform and get on to the train in that order. Note that most of the time this means regular commuters first – they know where to stand you see.Oh well, Miss Prissy Perfect either:

1. Is from another country that does not have such a love of queuing
2. Has no manners what-so-ever
3. Thinks that just because she has long blonde hair and too much make up on (seriously, a trowel??) and she can plick her hair in that L’Oreal advert kinda way she can be first.

And, of course, the rest of us well-mannered commuter types just looked at each other and fumed silently and didn’t say a word. Because that would have been rude.

Ok, petty rant over. A couple of quick updates:

1. The Waltz of Waterloo, as I have mentioned in the past, is not really a waltz. More like a Tango. You really have to have some certainty about you. Know where you are going. March. Fuck everyone else. But it will continue to be named the Waltz of Waterloo as Tango of Waterloo is a naff name.
2. Milk War update: Round 3 ding-ding-ding-ed off this morning. The Coffee Compliment was in a bad mood. It didn’t seem to matter that I refilled all the drinks sachets and the sugar bit and where the stirry things are kept. Nor that I refilled the bloody machine with water. The Coffee Compliment still managed to cover me with, well, coffee compliment. I thought that it was only the UHT Milk Potettes out to get me. Now I am paranoid. I have discovered a trick though – roll your sleeves up! Ha. Little bastards can’t get my clothes now…

Filed under: Commuter Friends, Commuting, Lady with the Blue Scarf/Orange Bag, Milk War, Random, South West Trains, Sun Man, Transport, Winchester Arty Girl, Winchy Commuter Boy, food and drink, rants   |  7 Comments