Today I sit on the train berthed at platform 15 at Edinburgh Waverley waiting for it to depart to Dundee. Being one of the few sunny days so far this summer the train is already stuffy. Being the shortest train of the day to Dundee, in so much as it doesn’t stop at all stations in Fife, it is crammed packed with commuters. In true train style the air conditioning has also chosen today to give up. What was a hot train when empty, has now advanced to boiler room conditions.
Anyhow, enough of the moaning.
It was a journey back from London after a game of football. We had rushed to the station after a quick shower and change at the pitch, a tube or 2 later and we arrived at Kings Cross. Two things were on our mind, food for the train and drink! The first drawback was there were limited places that we could reach within a limited time that sold alcohol. Therefore a queue of us formed in Marks & Spencer with the majority of us opting for some imported European lager. Having been cut off from the rest of the group I headed towards the platform only to be greeted by several of the Mets finest constabulary officers.
Due to a game being held between Newcastle and Tottenham in London earlier that day this train had been confined to being a `dry train`. No alcohol allowed to be consumed nor taken on board! Despite a plea that I had just finished a big game of football (victoriously) and was gasping for a cool beer there was no bending of rules. I was asked, as had others, to place all my cans down by an industrial sized refuse bin where officers would dispose of it later.
Resigned to my fate, or that of my lager, I started to place them down by the bin. Just as I had placed the final one down, one of the officers in the smaller group beside me stepped over to where I was standing and said, “You can always drink them before you go on the train, you still have twenty minutes”.
Not entirely sure how train security could be greater when full of people previously having been encouraged to drink as much as they could in a short space of time before boarding the train, I picked up the first can and pulled it open.
Having not had a chance to rehydrate since the game, the first can went down incredibly well. Not sure how much I should push it I bent down to pick up a second can. Unsure of the reaction of the officers to this I glanced over to both groups. An officer from the second group, on the other side of the platform gate, took notice and alerted his fellow officers; “He’s going for another!”. Then directing his attention towards me followed it up with, “Go on my son!!!” and accompanied it with several macho hand gestures.
After sinking what I could of the second can I alerted some team mates to the non drinking rule in place and they were able to hide what they could within their kit bags and sneak them aboard. Just as I was about to abandon the rest of my cans and join my friends on the train I decided one last plea to the officers for mercy could do no harm. An older experienced officer was nearest at this stage and sensing good will he shuffled over. “Put the others in your bag and on you go, just don’t let these other guys see you do it”, motioning towards the other officers. A simple play that is no doubt repeated several times over to gain trust and mutual understanding it was nevertheless greatly appreciated. I did as was told and was soon aboard.
Now the officers were from the North of England. Knowing that they would depart the train in Newcastle gave a natural time for the post match party to begin. Not having the patience to wait til then a few players gave in and in an act reminiscent of teenage years they hurriedly poured lager into their empty McDonalds milkshake cartons and tried on their best innocent faces.
Thursday 13 August 2009
Trains & Tribulations Part 2
It’s early one Friday afternoon. Having taken the day off to travel south for football, myself and a friend and fellow player found ourselves standing aboard a carriage to Edinburgh. Unable to find a seat and being in a carriage with a section separated for cyclists to store their bikes safely for a journey we found ourselves standing, somewhat unfortunately, beside the toilet. Not being the nicest section to have to stand in, we spent the journey staring out the window and chatting about tactics and formations for the game ahead.
As with any journey, especially one containing individuals from the previously mentioned travelling communities, there is a constant stream of people in the direction of the toilet, often forming a queue and waiting invariably patiently.
Now, technology is a wonderful thing. Without it I would be unable to blog as I travel as I am doing now. Without it this train that I’m sitting on would also not be here nor would the bridges we cross and my journey would be a hell of a lot longer! Mobile phones, laptops, Bluetooth, wireless, plasma TV’s, our daily lives are surrounded by technological advances which we come to rely upon. When they go wrong we panic, get distressed and get angry and frustrated. All rolled into one microsecond where something we want to happen and has happened without question many times before suddenly doesn’t.
But as always we shouldn’t overlook basic human error. A distance into our journey, a small Chinese woman wanders up the carriageway, locates the button conveniently located on the side of the toilet, waits for the electronically operated door to open in its semi circular shape and unveils a toilet the size of a small room in all its glory. She enters, pushes the button to close the door and the door retraces its steps and hides the room once again.
As the carriage continues to talk, another passenger, a burly man, stomps up the carriage towards the toilet. He pushes the button. Without hesitation the door swings into action (akin to the scene in Die Hard where the baddies manage to open the vault- this gives some idea of the gravity of the situation), unveiling not only the little room but a shocked Chinese woman, caught literally with her trousers down. The man tries to utter an apology and swiftly turns, the woman caught up in a mixture of shock, surprise and embarrassment can’t decide whether the best course of action is to pull her trousers up or reach for a button to close the door. Myself and my friend, probably equally embarrassed and trying not to laugh childishly, turn once again to stare out the window and discuss tactics at a somewhat louder volume!
Eventually the Chinese lady locates the door close button and everyone in the carriage and no doubt herself breathes a sigh of relief. The carriage passengers exchange glances, part in sympathy and part in thoughtful mortification of how they would feel in a similar position. Larkin’s ramblings on Ambulances springs to mind, `Poor soul they whisper, at their own distress`.
Now just as everyone relaxes again a new terror emerges. Everyone has now been entangled in a situation that hasn’t quite been brought to an end as realisation on the outside that at some point the woman will have to exit the toilet once again, hopefully in a more appropriately dressed state, and walk the length of the carriage back to her seat. Undoubtedly this is also crossing the mind of the poor, terrified woman inside.
A good 15 minutes pass with tension mounting both inside and out. I can only imagine the woman sat their dreaming of days gone by when toilets were locked by a bolt on the inside, thinking if only she had paid more attention to the numerous buttons facing her as she had entered the toilet, and any other number of what if’s! A lucky few arrive at their stops and can make a swift exit. For the rest of us we stand or sit as once again the door swings into action. In an act of sympathy that spread throughout the carriage every passenger to a man, woman or child busied themselves with a newspaper, magazine, searched for a song on their mp3 player or just stared hard out the window, giving just enough time for the horrified woman to scuttle down the carriage and re-take her seat.
With train travel comes various problems; cancelled trains, delays and works on the line. But next time you stand on the platform looking down the line to see if your train will make it in on time, just remember, boarding the train could be just the beginning of your problems!
As with any journey, especially one containing individuals from the previously mentioned travelling communities, there is a constant stream of people in the direction of the toilet, often forming a queue and waiting invariably patiently.
Now, technology is a wonderful thing. Without it I would be unable to blog as I travel as I am doing now. Without it this train that I’m sitting on would also not be here nor would the bridges we cross and my journey would be a hell of a lot longer! Mobile phones, laptops, Bluetooth, wireless, plasma TV’s, our daily lives are surrounded by technological advances which we come to rely upon. When they go wrong we panic, get distressed and get angry and frustrated. All rolled into one microsecond where something we want to happen and has happened without question many times before suddenly doesn’t.
But as always we shouldn’t overlook basic human error. A distance into our journey, a small Chinese woman wanders up the carriageway, locates the button conveniently located on the side of the toilet, waits for the electronically operated door to open in its semi circular shape and unveils a toilet the size of a small room in all its glory. She enters, pushes the button to close the door and the door retraces its steps and hides the room once again.
As the carriage continues to talk, another passenger, a burly man, stomps up the carriage towards the toilet. He pushes the button. Without hesitation the door swings into action (akin to the scene in Die Hard where the baddies manage to open the vault- this gives some idea of the gravity of the situation), unveiling not only the little room but a shocked Chinese woman, caught literally with her trousers down. The man tries to utter an apology and swiftly turns, the woman caught up in a mixture of shock, surprise and embarrassment can’t decide whether the best course of action is to pull her trousers up or reach for a button to close the door. Myself and my friend, probably equally embarrassed and trying not to laugh childishly, turn once again to stare out the window and discuss tactics at a somewhat louder volume!
Eventually the Chinese lady locates the door close button and everyone in the carriage and no doubt herself breathes a sigh of relief. The carriage passengers exchange glances, part in sympathy and part in thoughtful mortification of how they would feel in a similar position. Larkin’s ramblings on Ambulances springs to mind, `Poor soul they whisper, at their own distress`.
Now just as everyone relaxes again a new terror emerges. Everyone has now been entangled in a situation that hasn’t quite been brought to an end as realisation on the outside that at some point the woman will have to exit the toilet once again, hopefully in a more appropriately dressed state, and walk the length of the carriage back to her seat. Undoubtedly this is also crossing the mind of the poor, terrified woman inside.
A good 15 minutes pass with tension mounting both inside and out. I can only imagine the woman sat their dreaming of days gone by when toilets were locked by a bolt on the inside, thinking if only she had paid more attention to the numerous buttons facing her as she had entered the toilet, and any other number of what if’s! A lucky few arrive at their stops and can make a swift exit. For the rest of us we stand or sit as once again the door swings into action. In an act of sympathy that spread throughout the carriage every passenger to a man, woman or child busied themselves with a newspaper, magazine, searched for a song on their mp3 player or just stared hard out the window, giving just enough time for the horrified woman to scuttle down the carriage and re-take her seat.
With train travel comes various problems; cancelled trains, delays and works on the line. But next time you stand on the platform looking down the line to see if your train will make it in on time, just remember, boarding the train could be just the beginning of your problems!
Trains & Tribulations Part 1
Well for the first time I have embarked upon a journey on my usual train route to Edinburgh armed with my laptop. In the faint hope that each journey will inspire me with tales for blogland I packed up the extra bag, swung it round my free shoulder and descended the stairs from my flat to the waiting taxi with enough luggage to travel Europe.
“Train station is it?”
“Yeah, thanks...”
“Where you off to today?”
“Edinburgh”
“Ahh nice! How long for?”
“Erm, tomorrow...”
And so it goes.
Train travel can be an interesting experience. As a regular traveller of this route I know every section of rail, every bend (when to hold my can of juice to stop it falling off the table), every trampoline in every house along the way (of which there must be hundreds), every abandoned car lying on the edge of fields (presumably play toys for the young farmers), every river and burn that runs adjacent to the tracks and all the best places to see deer and foxes.
The new traveller may find this all very interesting but the seasoned traveller turns his attention inwards to the carriage itself. Each section of the route provides a different insight into the lives of the passengers. Although difficult to observe in total isolation from the outside world as goings on outside the carriage ultimately have some affect as to talk and behaviour on board it does provide a platform to observer an odd and diverse collection of groups and individuals going about their usual or not so usual business.
The route I travel is part of the East Coast Line and for me starts and ends between Dundee and Edinburgh and takes in the likes of Leuchars, Cupar, Ladybank, Markinch, Kirkcaldy, Aberdour, Inverkeithing, North Queensferry, Dalmeny and Haymarket amongst others.
Travelling Friday evenings or Saturday mornings and returning usually on Sunday evenings sees a well mixed array of passengers from the business community returning from work, the work nights out heading to Edinburgh, stag and hen parties off for one last night of partying with their soon to be married friends, elderly people meeting up with old friends for lunch or dinner and so on.
Returning Sunday evenings sees a collection of people returning from a weekend spent with friends in Edinburgh and heading homewards ready for the week ahead. Mixed in can often be workers from the oil industry, sometimes fairly oiled up themselves but in generally good humour, many from the North of England on the later stages of their journey. Not to be outdone the armed forces provide a collection of soldiers returning presumably to 45 Commando in Arbroath from some leave spent with their loved ones. Not to be outdone by elderly soldiers at the Cenotaph once a year looking back and reminiscing on fighting days gone by and stories good and bad about their time in uniform these newer recruits are quite happy to drunkenly spout their stories of Iraq and Afghanistan to entire carriages of sometimes reluctant listeners. Regardless however of opinions of war and conflicts and those that are at the forefront of such things, the behaviour of these few are generally overlooked and forgotten with the odd whisper of, “ Well they must be glad to be home” – an apology offered on behalf of perhaps (or perhaps not) an unlikely source, the elderly generations.
Such a mix of people in a confined space can only lead to amusing and strange happenings.
“Train station is it?”
“Yeah, thanks...”
“Where you off to today?”
“Edinburgh”
“Ahh nice! How long for?”
“Erm, tomorrow...”
And so it goes.
Train travel can be an interesting experience. As a regular traveller of this route I know every section of rail, every bend (when to hold my can of juice to stop it falling off the table), every trampoline in every house along the way (of which there must be hundreds), every abandoned car lying on the edge of fields (presumably play toys for the young farmers), every river and burn that runs adjacent to the tracks and all the best places to see deer and foxes.
The new traveller may find this all very interesting but the seasoned traveller turns his attention inwards to the carriage itself. Each section of the route provides a different insight into the lives of the passengers. Although difficult to observe in total isolation from the outside world as goings on outside the carriage ultimately have some affect as to talk and behaviour on board it does provide a platform to observer an odd and diverse collection of groups and individuals going about their usual or not so usual business.
The route I travel is part of the East Coast Line and for me starts and ends between Dundee and Edinburgh and takes in the likes of Leuchars, Cupar, Ladybank, Markinch, Kirkcaldy, Aberdour, Inverkeithing, North Queensferry, Dalmeny and Haymarket amongst others.
Travelling Friday evenings or Saturday mornings and returning usually on Sunday evenings sees a well mixed array of passengers from the business community returning from work, the work nights out heading to Edinburgh, stag and hen parties off for one last night of partying with their soon to be married friends, elderly people meeting up with old friends for lunch or dinner and so on.
Returning Sunday evenings sees a collection of people returning from a weekend spent with friends in Edinburgh and heading homewards ready for the week ahead. Mixed in can often be workers from the oil industry, sometimes fairly oiled up themselves but in generally good humour, many from the North of England on the later stages of their journey. Not to be outdone the armed forces provide a collection of soldiers returning presumably to 45 Commando in Arbroath from some leave spent with their loved ones. Not to be outdone by elderly soldiers at the Cenotaph once a year looking back and reminiscing on fighting days gone by and stories good and bad about their time in uniform these newer recruits are quite happy to drunkenly spout their stories of Iraq and Afghanistan to entire carriages of sometimes reluctant listeners. Regardless however of opinions of war and conflicts and those that are at the forefront of such things, the behaviour of these few are generally overlooked and forgotten with the odd whisper of, “ Well they must be glad to be home” – an apology offered on behalf of perhaps (or perhaps not) an unlikely source, the elderly generations.
Such a mix of people in a confined space can only lead to amusing and strange happenings.
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