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.