Wednesday, 7 October 2009

Hump day dump day

Ah, Wednesday. Known to some as Hump Day, according to the radio. Why? Are we all supposed to be out there humping people's legs like unruly dogs? I'm sorry, but I am simply not prepared to do that.

Plus it's raining really hard and I don't want to go out and get soaked.

In fact, it's been raining all day. Luckily for me I have not had to go out and walk around in it much. I popped out to the local garage this morning to get the be-beep key fob thingy for my car sorted out. It was becoming excitingly unpredictable, not unlocking (or indeed locking) the car on the first, second and sometimes seventh click of the button. I had nightmarish visions of getting off the train from London at 9pm one dark night and not being able to open the car, then having to walk all the way home, crying piteously.

So, a new battery seemed like a good idea.

They are lovely down there. They replaced the key fob battery and then refused to take any money for it, saying "We'll sort it out next time, love, don't worry about it." What nice people.

I then scooted to Morrisons and picked up a few groceries. Washing powder! Bleach! Onions! My life is a whirling fun-packed carousel of delight.

What else have I been doing lately? Apart from slowly getting myself back to what passes for normality, post SSFH*, I mean.

I spent Monday and Tuesday in Bristol, helping with a training/familiarisation course, which was interesting. Always nice to meet people who work in related but separate fields**.

There is a HUGE difference between the trains that go from my local station to Bristol, and the trains that go from my usual station to London. The people! My dears! Such dreadful, dreadful people!

I suppose the big difference is that the London train is stuffed to the gills with city types in suits, settling in for the 2-hour ride, reading their newspapers or working on their laptops quietly. They all have their usual seats (me included) and there is a degree of placid tranquil acceptance that we are all in it together. We simply chill out and tolerate the journey as best we may, each trying to be inconspicuous and productive. Well, I tend to play Scrabble and listen to loud rock music on my iPhone, but you get the picture.

The Bristol train, now, is a different kettle of fish. Indeed, the one on Monday smelt as though one of the many slack-jawed mouth-breathers crammed in there was actually carrying a kettle of fish. It was a dump.

The train was the same size as the London train***, but there were fewer seats, meaning that while those of us who had found somewhere to sit were not too cramped, there were many people forced to stand up for the duration of the journey. And they were bitching about it.

There were several people for whom the term "dangers of rural inbreeding" might have been coined. Four people sitting around a table had only 5 eyebrows between them. It wasn't pretty.

Anyhoo. People hop on and off all the time, only going one or two stops, so it's a constant stream of bags and coats whacking you as they shuffle past, knuckles dragging, personal steroes blaring, phones cheeping and chirping. Was worse than being in the cinema with a huge crowd of unruly teenagers.

Still, it took less than an hour and a half to get to work, and I was home before it was dark, which made a nice change.

Other news: Mr WithaY has been diligently practicing his didgeridoo since he got home from Egypt. I might make a recording and put it on here if I can work out the technology.

*Shit Storm From Hades
**Not like farmers, but in a professionally-related way


DameEmma said...

I beg you. Please record the didgeridoo. That is all.

livesbythewoods said... know, I might.