Friday, 12 August 2011

UK Trains and associated shenanigans...

Trains are generally alright in the UK (I do wish they were the ones with compartments though, much more fun and cosy for long journeys with a few friends). I'm still amazed that you can drink alcohol on most trains - probably the transport minister hasn't noticed yet, so SAY NOWT, KEEP MOVING!

As for certain shortcomings...well obviously there are famous things like 'the wrong kind of snow' and 'leaves on the track' as being ridiculous excuses for delays, high costs and all the rest of it,  here's one that I've not heard echoed:

Windows which you cannot open when hot, replaced by overly strong air conditioning which actually makes you cold enough to want to put a jacket on. Energy put to excellent use. Apparently the air-con has only one setting, so you either sweat your balls off or freeze your tits off when the weather is colder or warmer than the usual mid-range 'meh' temperature.

Oh and also for that minority unfortunate enough to have experienced delays (cough cough), the bloody departures board which says 'Expected Time'. It is BOLLOCKS. Firstly, the expected departure time is often adjusted to precisely 30 seconds from time of reading, without a glimmer of a train's light on the horizon - is it really gonna be here in time to have boarded/spat out and left again in 30 seconds?! Hmm....
Then the next trick is to add a few minutes, toying with the frustrated sods stood on the platform. A late 20-something lad (usually someone like myself) turns up to the platform sweating, yet pleased that the train is late and he'll make it. Whoever is controlling the digital board joyously adds another 3 minutes to the time, chuckling while sat in the privileged knowledge that in reality the train is caught behind a rogue blade of grass stuck indelibly to a section of rail 30 miles back.
By the time the train makes it through the arduous journey to the station, 35 minutes have passed. Had the said controller person sourced his cynical fix from something else - perhaps typing a ranting blog about shitty buses - and actually told would-be passengers a realistic departure time, then we could have all gone for a pint at that ominous-looking yet conveniently located pub over the road for a pint of some generic beer....

I really shouldn't pad out my rants with so much other stuff, but y'know, this is the chaos that my mind goes through at such times.

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