No Ticket


Well, here I am at the end of another week. I have to say, I’m pretty impressed at the arrangements for the last couple of weeks, in terms of the engineering works. It’s all gone pretty smoothly and relatively pain free. I won’t be sad when the journey time returns to forty five minutes less though.

Ah, the weird and wonderful inhabitants of that murky area that could be called ‘commuter-ville’. There have definitely been some classics this week.

Like the charming woman who exclaimed quite loudly that the conductor sounded like he was foreign as she couldn’t understand “a bloody word ‘e was saying”, despite the fact that he actually had a really broad Norfolk accent. She was so loud and rude her table mates actually got up and left to seek refuge. When this happened she shouted “go on then, bugger off” after them – two quite well dressed, middle aged ladies who evidently had no idea what had hit them. It was when she burst into “Jerusalem” that I retreated into i-pod world. Although it’s just struck me that it’s her fault that I haven’t been able to look out the window without humming “… In England’s green and pleasant land”.

I love the people who get on trains with the wrong tickets. I can definitely understand how it can be a little bit confusing, but not when the conductor announces at least once every thirty seconds before the train moves off that you can only travel with a specified ticket or an open ticket. There was a woman on the train this morning who pleaded ignorance when the conductor reminded her that her ticket wasn’t valid. She still had to pay extortionate prices, but to be honest, I didn’t buy her “but I’m just a lay-dee” fluttery eyelashes either. Especially when she pulled out a laptop and revealed some of her Native true colours. Hmm.

Who else thinks you should get a YP discount on season tickets? Show of hands, please… I certainly do. Without my YP discount, the monthly season ticket is about £15 cheaper. This means that if I miss a couple of days a month (bank holidays etc) it costs me more money. With a YP discount, it would bring the cost about level with the savings made without a YP card. If that makes sense. It’s never going to happen as no doubt there will be uproar about positive discrimination. While we’re on the subject – I have never seen the first class section of a carriage full. Interestingly though, if you are a pregnant woman with a season ticket you can apply for a free upgrade to first class. Of course, there are caveats which need to be fulfilled – you practically have to show a live shot of your unborn child, in triplicate, but it’s still pretty cool. Not worth getting pregnant for though.

O, my kingdom for a hairdresser that stays open past 6pm in the evening and is easy to get to from the train station… I confidently rang my hairdresser yesterday for an appointment on Friday, only to be rebuffed as their latest appointment was 5pm. Boo. I’m starting to look like… well, an unkempt, split ends version of myself, basically. I’m also torn between having an actual style or keeping the length. It feels like I’ve been trying to grow my hair out for years, an ache which has only intensified since I saw “Mamma Mia!” and the amount of long, flowing lockage in that. One day.

On the topic of fantasies, I read “Chocolat” this week and thoroughly enjoyed it. I haven’t seen the film and deliberately steered clear of the book as it’s one of those books – the ones your Mum reads on holiday.

Vianne and her daughter Anouk arrive in a sleepy French village and basically stir up trouble with their chocolate concoctions. Mixed up with all of this runs a seething river of lust, envy and forbidden fruits which goes as deep as class war and religion.
My only criticism is that it’s too short. I finished it in a couple of journeys. However, I still plan to read the sequel – “The Lollipop Shoes”.


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