The Long and Winding Road

I think it’s about high time that someone did a blog about travelling. We all do it, every day of our lives; chances are we will travel somewhere, whether it be to work or just to the fridge. I’m not going to blog about the different methods of travelling, that’s just boring as hell! I want to talk about the weird and wonderful things that happen to us on these little journeys. In fact, just this morning, I was driving to meet my friend and an old man walked out in front of my car, causing me to slam my brakes on. What baffled me however was why he felt the need to jeopardise the remainder of his life just so he could tell me that I looked like some famous person from back in the fifties. I cannot remember this famous chick’s name for the life of me, but why did he stop me? It’s not as if I was her! Surely she’d be about 90 now? And I probably could have gone the rest of my life without knowing it too. It was one of those surreal moments which rendered me speechless.

2 weeks ago I had to travel from Durham to Swansea, which is a bitch of a 6 hour and 10 minute journey! It had 3 stops, and for someone who’s not a regular on the trains, that’s absolutely terrifying! However, it did provide me with 6 hours and 10 minutes of non-stop, absolute entertainment. Train travellers are the best, because for some reason I’m sure they feel that they have the right to total luxury. Now, I didn’t expect the train toilets to look like that of a 5-Star restaurant but clearly the lady opposite me did. For 25 whole minutes she complained to me how awful her ‘toilet trip’ had been because she was bouncing around everywhere and managed to ‘miss the bowl!’ “It wouldn’t stop shaking!”

“Stating the obvious there love?” was my immediate reaction. “Travelling from one city to another involves moving, you’re not on a bloody monorail!” Needless to say she wasn’t impressed with my sarcasm and proceeded to move from her reserved seat to another part of the carriage. That was fine by me though, I got to put my feet up on her seat. Not to self: be sarcastic more often.

At one point in my journey however I did feel pretty uneasy. I have this strange little bull phobia you see, which creates some sort of irrational paranoia. The train stopped for about 5 minutes somewhere in the countryside and I was faced with a field of bulls about 30 yards to my left. The poor student typing his dissertation on his laptop next to me could sense my anxiety as I slowly edged away from the window and practically sat in his lap.

“Are you ok?” He asked, lifting his hands up in the air trying to avoid any awkward touching. I couldn’t answer straight away. I was convinced the bulls could smell my fear. One looked up from his grass-eating to look in my direction. As did another, and then another, and then another.

“They’re bloody staring at me!” I said to him.

“I really don’t think they are.” He answered, closing his laptop as I’d clearly knocked him out of his writing flow. “They’re probably just curious of the train.”

“Ha! Probably!” I said as I lowered myself back into my own seat. Thankfully the train started up again. I was having visions of the bulls walking towards us, getting on at Carriage B and charging at me down the middle of the aisle. I even had my escape route planned! I fact, in the space of 5 minutes, I’d managed to screenplay a whole movie scene where I’m escaping from the bulls. Colin Farrell was on the train too and managed to break a window in order for us to climb onto the roof. It was like something out of Die Hard. Yippee kay yay!

The best incident however goes to the irritated Brummie, who was sitting just across from me. The man who stamps the tickets was making his way past and was stopped by said Brummie.

“How long until we get to Bristol?” He asked.

“Hmm, it’s probably about an hour from here.” Replied the ticket master.

“An hour? Are you having a laugh mate? We left Birmingham ages ago!”

“Yes but Birmingham and Bristol are quite far away from each other!” The ticket master replied.

“That’s a load of f*****g s**t!” Replied the angry Brummie. “I can’t believe they’re SO far away!” What a stupid comment to make! He was actually kicking off about the geography of Britain. How DARE those cities be so far away from each other! Here’s a suggestion mate. Put your pasty down and get out of the pub 3 hours earlier if you want to be there on time! Tool.

Rant over.

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