11am, Leeds train station, dripping in latte, scanning the empty departure board; I’m pissed off. I’ve not had the best few days, so I’m desperate to visit the new Huddersfield home and TransPennine Express are doing everything within their power to depress me.
This morning when I tweeted “Forget wild horses, there could be a dragon on the line and I’d still get home today”, it seems all relevant transportation systems took this as a challenge.
My bus driver was a marde arse who insisted on telling me off for not sticking my hand out. What he thought I was doing stood at the edge of the road, by a bus stop, with purse in hand and smiling intendedly at the upcoming bus, if not waiting to board, I’ve no bloody idea. Facetious git. This lecture on bus-behaviour (tch) ultimately led to the ruin of the next few hours of my day. I’m not one to hold a grudge, but all I’m saying is that next time I get the no. seven -I’m paying in two pence pieces.
My train left a full minute before scheduled departure, leaving me awkwardly jogging around empty platform four at York. Disgruntled, and slightly self concious that I’d broken into a full sprint to no avail in front of quite a large crowd of Geordies, I decided to outsmart the Sunday train system by getting to The Hud via Leeds. Turns out the Train Gods weren’t in the mood for my cleverness, so delayed me by five minutes. I missed my connecting train. The next one to Huddersfield was the same train I would have gotten if I’d just waited the hour and a half at York station. (f7u12, etc)
Frustrated, I went and got a coffee to try and perk myself up. I had nearly a full hour to wait in a cold Leeds station and I was in pretty sulky mood. Humphing into a seat against a corner, I counted down the minutes until I could finally board a train that would send me home. About two minutes after I’d collapsed down, a man in an impressive overcoat and beard came and stood in a way that trapped me in the corner. Not unexpected, considering I was next to the sugar and napkin dispenser. Then he started violently rocking. And humming. For about ten minutes.
Obviously, being polite, I ignored him and stared pointedly at my coffee. Inside, though, the panic levels were rising. Oh my god. I’m going to miss my train AGAIN because this man has decided to fucking sway right in front of me. How was I going to get out? Eventually, I made a bit of a fuss of cleaning the area around me of all coffee debris, hoping he’d notice and rock elsewhere. I ended up quite loudly telling him I had a train to catch, and kind of…slid… around him. I wonder if he was waiting for a train, or if that was just how he spent his Sunday mornings?
I was so busy pondering the life of this man- does he rock and hum everyday? Does he mix it up with some singing every now and then? Is it always the train station? He’s probably done a stint in Huddersfield bus station, that’ll be where he learned his trade- I didn’t feel a sneeze sneaking up on me. Loudly achoo-ing, my hands instinctively shot up to me face to protect other commuters from my germs. I still had my scalding hot latte in my hand. Not for the first time today, hot tears threatened to pour out in an embarrassing temper tantrum. No time to clean up, the train is pulling in and I’ll be damned if I miss this one too.
You could practically smell the relief when I disembarked at Huddersfield after a 45 minute journey took nearly 3 hours. I’ve not been feeling myself lately, so this flying visit home means a lot to me. All these missed trains and fresh scalds were pushing me over the edge. But bugger the stress of the journey, how could anyone not be relieved when this guy is your new neighbour?
|He knows we’re having lamb curry.
View from the kitchen window. Srsly.
The eagle-eyed amongst you (or the ones I’ve been spamming on FB) may have noticed my shiny new Blog North Winner badge. THANK YOU for voting for me, my mam is now gleefully boasting to all her mates at work how her daughter has basically just won the Pulitzer Prize for blogging.