This week I have travelled the length of the country more than once by the wonder that is the train. (Not bad considering at the time of writing it is only Tuesday evening). As an exercise in time management it has been valuable, as an exercise in people watching (with some slight interacting) it has been absolutely fantastic.
On Monday as I made my way back from the south coast to the comforting confines of middle England, someone sat next to me part way through the journey. It quickly transpired that this fellow had tourettes and that the occasional raid into his territory was enough to ’set him off’. It also transpired that he was Polish, so such outbursts were conducted in somewhat strange prose.
To my shame, I invaded his space a couple of times and then sat back to watch the reaction of people around us. Yes, I know that I am a bad person and that there is a special place reserved for me in hell, but it did make the monotony of the journey much more interesting for not only myself but also my fellow commuters.
On the journey down that morning, I had an interesting conversation with a besuited man sat opposite me for one short leg of the trip. He took exception to the fact that I had my MP3 player on. In his opinion I was ‘blasting choons’ too loudly and disturbing him from shuffling his papers. Not one to cause a ruckus at 7.17am, I turned the already quiet Crosby Stills Nash & Young down even further. He asked me again to turn down ‘my musak’ and then refused to apologise when I pointed out that the offended noise was coming from someone sat behind me. He then humpfed and puffed for a bit, throwing the odd disapproving look to anybody he could. He proceeded to get a little more upset when I got my laptop out and started doing some work. Clearly I had forgotten he had a monopoly on the table. To be honest, I think he was more upset that I was unshaven and in jeans and a t shirt (standard office dress for me), whereas he was unhappily in his best suit and tie. Very few men can carry off a pink shirt, he definitely couldn’t. At Reading I got up and moved. (The train goes in the other direction and as previously mentioned many months ago I must sit forwards on a train for fear of unsighted decapitation in an accident). Someone then walked past him and brushed some of papers onto the floor, he certainly did not appreciate my laugh and I concede it may have been a touch too loud.
On my train from middle England to the grim north of Manchester this morning, someone was sat in my reserved seat. He seemed most perturbed when I turfed him off, because he then had to stand as the train was packed. If he wanted a seat that badly he should have pre-booked like any other sensible person. When the three other people sat at the table got off midway through the journey, I had hopes of some space. This was dashed 30 seconds later when three girls got on, sat down and went all the way to Manchester excitedly talking at great volume about their new university courses and student loans. I’m not sure, but they seemed to get louder and louder the further north we went.
On a Monday I usually head down to my office on the south coast and so there is a familiarity in some of the faces that congregate on the platform. Proving that we can be friendly, I said hello to a couple of people this week and exchanged some mindless chit chat about just how cold it was stood on the platform.
I have now officially eaten all the produce available from the onboard shop on Cross Country trains and I can confirm that it is all expensive, cardboard like and utterly tasteless shit.
(Posted via the wonder that is my 3G card just outside Wolverhampton)
(Then edited shortly afterwards near Birmingham as I clearly cannot spell. That might be the beer I am drinking though. Who knows?)
Recent Comments