We left our character (Anguish in Aberdeen Part 1 - From Home to Alton Station) at Alton station with the smell of bacon and sausage wafting into his nostrils. If you haven’t already read it, read it (please, and maybe pretty please - circulation ed) and if you have, tell your friends (but not if you want to keep them - downer ed).
…
So, given the tempting bacon smell, what could one man do against millennia of genetic programming, (Just say, “No, no, no, no, no, Mama Mia, Mama Mia, Beelzebub"...as the sounds of Bohemian Rhapsody rips through my mind(s) - 70’s musical reference ed)
“Could I have a bacon roll?”, I said, with a quaver of fear in my voice (perhaps it was a crotchet, that musical notation can be damned tricky at times - ed)
(Those of you who are prone to spotting deep and dark themes in my writing or those of you looking for hidden meanings, will be sadly disappointed; as I was just asking for a bacon roll.
Those of you with a smattering of grammar…
[Ever so, ever so, sorry - failed grammar ed]
[Testing me at 11, and with that early failure under my belt, I was thus has scarred for life - much too young to be marked a failure - comprehensive argument ed]
… will notice that I didn’t use that horribly modern American phrase, now prevalent in our culture, of,
“Can I get a bacon roll”, [possibly without even a question mark! - sub ed] because I am sure that the vendor...
[well it was a chap - else it would have been a vendeuse - VIve La France sub ed]
..would have almost certainly answered either with a,
“No, Sir, but I will be pleased to get it for you”,
or potentially with a,
“I don’t let customers access the food directly Sir, it is against ‘ealth and Safety”,
or perhaps with the mildly humorous [or should that be hummus - Mediterranean food sub ed],
“I don’t think you arms are long enough, Sir”,
I am starting to like this vendor, he keeps calling me, “SIr”.
When I say he, you have to understand that this is me (the blogger, or putative writer ...
[I sooo wanted to get that word into this blog, was going to use it rather than “character” at the top but thought that might be too early on when you...
[[my lovely, lovely reader - boost the circulation by being smarmy to the reader sub sub ed]]
... had not sufficiently warmed up ...
[[do you need a hot water bottle or a hot drink, perhaps a massage - care and comfort for the reader sub ed] ]
..to the task of ploughing through all of this nonsense …
I seem to have gone too many brackets deep, a quick refactor to split this big wibble onto multiple lines for me to work out where I am.
Where is auto-indent-wibble feature when you need one…
Hmm, I think that I know where I am now [Just about to enter Woking according to, “Steve, your guard” - sub ed]...
I think that I can get away with just this - ed)
The vendor, (with the visual impairment - ed), said definitively,
“Yes!”
It was like all of my Christmases and Birthdays had come at once (not sure how many s’s should be in there, but I will let the Great Google Corrector in the Sky let me know in due course - ed)
[Somehow I hear Bridget’s voice in my head; this usually happens when I put the phone to my ear and she is on the other end of the line, but not this time, this time it comes unbidden from one of the many recesses of my multipolar mind ...
[[Did I let slip about my medical condition? “Nope”, “You are too many brackets deep and the readers just cannot cope with that”, “Phew” - medical ed]]
...and brings with it one of our many, Couple In Jokes (™) or is it Couple Shorthand Conversations (™).
Bridget’s [remember this is a non-existent Bridget voice - do keep up ed] voice is saying,
“Julie Coarse, you seeing her again? I thought I had warned you off her, she is a real rough ‘un. You’ll need to be checked out at the clinic, again”
This is part of our vast array [“Can I use plethora, pretty please” - literary ed] or plethora of Cloth Ear Jokes (™), where we deliberately mishear what the other says for comedic effect and in the vain (?) of comedians of our culturally shared youth.
For me it was either, “Alas Smith and Jones”, or, “Three of a Kind” .
[[Somewhere in the great interweb of trivia that enfolds our lives these day, there is a link to information about these shows, so rather than me finding it and placing it here you can go and find it for yourself - “Nooo, Nooo, Noo” circulation ed (a slight Bohemian Rhapsody moment rears its ugly head again)]
At some point I might do a post on a number of them (amusing girls that I am supposed to be having some sort of relationship with, do keep up), but, and all together, “That isn’t important right now”.
[Just passing Vauxhall, the clouds are muttering quietly to themselves and look to be in a gravelly grey mood and threatening rain, aha here it comes, - methinks there is either tennis or cricket to be played in London - cynical ed]
[[EBC intervention.
Dear Mr David,
We have had it brought to our attention that you have failed to get either off of Alton station or even been able to buy a bacon roll.
Your asides have strayed wide and far from the appropriate narrative.
Consider this a formal warning to get to the point,
Kind Regards,
General B. Factotum (retd)
Acting Director of the Editorial Board of Control
]]
I feel suitably chastened (if you touch that Susan Chastened once more, you are in Big Trouble (possibly in Little China) - Bridget the ed to end all eds)
And On With The Narrative
Where were we? Scanning back through the post I work it out.
(Aside to the readers - you think you have it hard trying to keep track of where you are in the post - I have had to hire a Sioux tracker to be with me at all times...
[Getting a bit cosy at night now, the bed is filling up with a whole host of fantasy characters]
[[Those Seven Dwarves are real buggers as they start ,“Hi Ho’ing”, at the drop of a hat, particularly when the black hell beat kicks off with a yowl in the middle of the night]]
... to enable to find where I left the path of sanity.
[Bridget pipes up, “Sue Tracker - is that another new girl? - ed]
So, let us set the scene once more.
David, rucksack on his back, a very happy look on his face, has just had his Christmas and Birthday rolled into one, as the Bacon Roll Vendor, has agreed to the sale of The Last Bacon Roll of the Day (at the Whistlestop Cafe, yes, like last time, this is a real place, and is on Alton Station - almost the whole truth ed).
Not forgetting Bridget’s advice, that I should not only eat, but drink as well.. sadly I was only given a dispensation to drink water and it was a little too early for anything stronger (It is never too early for champagne - ed), I asked for, “A Bottle of sparkling water please” (which was the closest I could get - ed), to which the vendor agreed with alacrity and enthusiasm, and within a few moments the deal was done (at least - maybe we can move on now - ed)
So, with one hand holding of a bacon roll in a paper bag (this is part of the of the railway bye laws, in that bacon rolls need to be covered at all times so as not to offend vegetarians. Strange though, as this is not the case with alcohol - bemused ed) and the other holding a cold bottle of sparkling water, I was set for the next stage of the journey.
Choosing the carriage and the seat therein
Now, if you are getting used to the way that I appear in this blog (Yes, we know all about you Mr. Collins - ed) this simple task is not so simple when I am involved. Not sure why this is so, but it does appear to be the case.
So, after counting the number of carriages, there were four (or 4, for those of you with a mathematical bent - maths ed), which meant that there would only be one First Class part carriage (we don’t get a full first class carriage usually at Alton - Christian Woolmar ed).
So, that at least, made the choice of which one go to into that much simpler (Yes, I am a First Class kinda guy - but only for work, when I, rather than the company have to pay it ends up being standard, and luckily for me, Woking, where I was to catch the coach, had I mentioned that I would be catching the coach from Woking to Heathrow - well if not, I have now, and if I have, sorry for the repetition - ed).
So, once I had worked out which of the buttons to press (there being only one, “Open”, not sure what had happened to the “Close” button - possibly it had fallen off, or maybe the rise of automated door closure mechanisms had done away with its job.
There is probably a junkyard somewhere in the country filled with huge numbers of “Close” door buttons, each one reflecting on the cruelty of automation and sighing wistfully of the lives they used to lead. Going from city to city, meeting the fingers of a multitude of interesting people, being infected with a large number of communicable diseases. - ed)
I pressed the button, the door sighed and opened, and I entered the carriage, there was short moment where I had to walk through a part of Standard Class, but I managed to navigate that without any problems, for which I was truly thankful.
The door to First Class stood, pristine and proud, beckoning me seductively to enter its hallowed portal. I smiled, a superior smile (my usual shy smile being left at home for a rest after being used way too much the previous day - ed), as I knew I could legitimately enter the Blue Carriage of Pleasurable Seats (™) as I had a season ticket and knew how to use it.
I pressed the “Open” button. Nothing happened.
I pressed the “Open” button again. Nothing happened again.
I pressed the “Open” button harder this time, with a bit of a wiggle...
(when, the lady of a certain age (apparently a passenger), sitting in a nearby Standard Class seat, ”Sighed”, rather loudly. I realised I hadn’t wiggle my finger, but my hips, in a very, “Strictly” fashion.
I have been cultivating this wiggle for some time now, mostly as part of my daily yoga routine. I do this mostly to engender that kind of “Sigh”, from ladies who appreciate flexible hips on a man - ed )
Nothing happened. The door remained solidly closed.
What to do about such a conundrum (or as most people would put it, this “minor problem” - ed), I thought? Leave the carriage, and walk up to the next door and try and enter FIrst Class from the other direction, which might have a working door button, but somehow I felt that that would mark me as a, “Quitter”, to the lady of a certain age.
With a deliberate swivel of my hips (eliciting a further and rather gratifyingly loud “Sigh”, from my latest hip swivelling admirer - the things I do to get attention ed) I put the Hot Bacon Roll (still safe, warm and anonymous, in its white paper bag - ed) and the bottle of sparkling water onto the seat nearest the door, with a practiced shrug the rucksack followed.
I turned to face my admirer, ensuring I caught the lone shaft of sunlight on my white (white, possibly even gleamingly white - ed) teeth, a “Ting” could be heard. I was rewarded with, what I took to be the beginnings of a swoon...
(At this point I decided to cut back on my charm offensive, as “Ladies of a Certain Age” are difficult to pick up and put back into an upright posture if they collapse into a full swoon.
I once put my back out rectifying a Swoon Event (™) as there is a real problem in helping a lady up from the floor without actually touching her.
My preferred technique is to offer a lowered arm or possibly a hand, for them to grasp and when they have grabbed the offered article, brace myself and pull.
This particular lady was not only of a,”Certain Age”, but of a, “Certain Size”. The memory of that moment is seared into my psyche [it was painful, painfull, very very painful, - old ad ed] as well as the muscles in my back. Since then I have always been careful to keep my hip swivelling and teeth gleaming moments under control until I have surveyed the lay of the land - ed)
… but after the above mental asides, I turned my Swoon Factor (™) down from a rather presumptuous ten (10), to its more usual get through the days without incident, three (3).
The door was still shut. I then did what is sometimes a grim necessity, I grabbed the door by its vitals and pulled.
The door fought back, we tussled for a time but with another unintentional wiggle I managed to put my legs and hips into the door and then levering myself against the other side of the door force it fully open.
Reaching back I picked up the enbagged bacon roll, cold sparkling water and my rucksack. As I moved out of the door and into the First Class carriage, the door sighed (maybe it too had been admiring the Strictly Hip WIggle (™) and closed with a definitive, “Whump”.
Choosing a Seat
Once into a train carriage, most people and apparently this is a common phenomenon (cool word - literary ed), amongst those of a particular nature (Anyone else for OCD - medical ed), take choosing a seat to the extreme.
Here are some of the questions that you need to ask yourself:
- Should I be sitting so that I am facing the way of travel or have my back to it?
- This leads on to the question, if the train crashes will it be a head on or a shunt up the rear?
- What is the direction of travel?
- If it is a sunny day, should I sit on the other side to the sun ?(Luckily First Class, certainly on most of the South West trains have curtains - yes, curtains on a train, who would have believed that - astounding facts ed)? Knowing which direction the train is going is very helpful (pocket compasses or modern smartphones are particularly useful in helping the wavering seat chooser - ed)
- Should I sit at a table? (Tough one that, as this can potentially lead into foot tango and an exchange of, “Sorry, where would you like to put your feet?”, moment, most disconcerting for Brits. The seat to choose, of the four available, is a real art, and it is always interesting to see how people play that one - ed)
- Should I sit near the door? (Particularly relevant in Winter for the blasts of bitingly cold air that come with the arrival of new passengers - ed)
- Should I sit on the aisle seat and put my bag on the window seat? (Ensuring that someone has to not only ask me to move, but all ask me to move the bag - this is one of the most usual plays - ed)
- Should I sit next to the window? (Thus potentially allowing someone to sit next to you without any kind of communication - reserved Brits R Us ed).
- If I sit next to the window should I put the rucksack on the aisle seat in a, “I want to be alone”, Marlene Dietrich manner?
- What time of the day? Think commuter traffic versus off peak travel.
- What day of the week is it? Monday to Friday are so much different to Saturday let alone Sunday (really don’t get me started about Sunday - engineering works ed)
- If Saturday or Sunday, are there engineering works or timetable changes. Fewer trains per hour or altered routes can cause altered passenger load factors
- Have you checked the weather reports to see if rain, snow, leaves, or high winds are affecting train services - most importantly on the line that you are on.
- Have you checked for any labour unrest, strikes, work to rules as this can lead to a major reduction in services with its concomitant increase in passengers per train and hence seat usage.
- Which month is it, as there are seasonal fluctuations due to school holidays, public holidays.
Yes, believe it or not (sorry, cannot believe that all that goes through you head when you first enter a carriage - ed), well, not all of it, as much of it has already been thought through whilst waiting for the train to arrive, or on the way to the station.
I gave the carriage a onceover (like a makeover without the sparkly nails - fashion ed) and there was only one other person it.
It was post morning rush hour, it was a Friday in May, not a Bank Holiday, not a half term, overcast outside, so no sun in the eyes issues, forecast for passenger numbers between Alton and Woking - low, might get another 4-6 people in the carriage by Woking, so safe to put the bag on the seat next to me, took a window seat (as I usually do - ed), no industrial unrest on the railways, weather forecast was changeable - but this is Britain and that is pretty much always the case. Took the seat nearest the door, a potential misstep, as I might have to help others to wrench it open and I am not sure my hands, arms and hips were up to it.
One of the benefits of First Class (on South West trains - ed) is that all of the non-table seats have a small table in the back of the seat in front, just like airlines. Pulled the table down and put the bacon roll and water down on it.
I was thus set for the journey to Woking.
Now, what was unusual about this particular (do you have any usual journeys? This one seems to be incredibly difficult and you haven’t even managed to get out of Alton yet - get on with it ed), journey, is that I usually get on the train on work days, sit on the same seat every day, well, mostly, there are the occasional blips when an unexpected commuter sits in my seat (How Dare They - ed) and then turn my conscious mind off …
(there is a switch, Auto Snooze (™), between my should blades that if I sit back onto the seat in the right way will be triggered; sending me into a light snooze until the words, “Waterloo, All Change, All Change”, trigger the automatic, Wake Up Sleepy Head (™) function.
This ensures that I get off the train and wimble to work - arguably it should be triggered at Wimble Don(e), as we pass through there on the way into Waterloo, allowing me extra time to gather my senses ...
[Do you really have any senses? - senseless ed]
.. which are by this time scattered amongst the vast area of mind that my unconsciousness encompasses - ed)
...BUT (and that was a big but - wink wink ed), on this particular journey I needed to get off at Woking, which was as you can tell by my slightly worried tone, is Highly Unusual.
GIven the irregularity of this departure point, Train Station Anxiety (™) was triggered, this overrides the my inbuilt Auto Snooze (™) feature and keeping me awake, checking and rechecking the next station that we were going to arrive at.
Luckily, in most South West trains these days (don’t get me started about their software - developer ed) there is a rolling display in most carriages, which, surprisingly tells you not only in which carriage you are in (in this case 3 of 4), the time (though it did go through a phase recently when it was 00:00 at all times - which on a late night trek back home after beers can be quite disconcerting as you wake and snooze, wake and snooze and keep checking the time, to find it still 00;00, believe me, I’ve done this - ed), and perhaps most importantly the displays gives a list of the stations to come, sometimes, but not always, added to by helpful guards letting you know, before you get there, the name of the next station.
(As I sit on the train writing this, “The next station is Farnham”, has been spoken by an automated announcement [perhaps the guard has a sore throat this morning] and the overhead display - ed).
So with all this information being relayed to my non-snoozing brain, getting off at Woking was managed without too much stress (what about the panic when you forgot where you were and thought that the next station was Woking when it was Brookwood - Paxman ed).
I don’t think my readers care about the momentary panics I have over where I am, “Do you Dear Reader, perhaps another glass of wine, or a further plumped up pillow to allow you to be really comfortable whilst reading this post?”
……
Given that this particular post has gone on (far too long in my opinion - ed) and Woking let alone Heathrow still have to be navigated, I have concluded, that too hell with it, there is going to be a Anguish in Aberdeen Part III, (Phone Loss at Heathrow), as that is probably worth recounting, where total calmness and relaxation prior to flight departure was abruptly ruined with the loss of my phone just as the flight was called.
It appears, that my life is really stranger than fiction, I mean I don’t have to make anything up at all (well apart from minor inaccuracies to do the actual time frame of some of the events, 99% of everything I write has happened - Fabrications R Us ed)
……
For the readers I have contacted with respect to using their quotes (naturally out of context, and showing me in a good light - Big Up Davey ed), that post is now in progress and so in the offing.
No comments:
Post a Comment