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Thursday, April 20

In training
This particular story happened on Thursday 16th March. I was finishing work and a friend, who lives in London, suggested that we meet up. I was in the mood for doing something entertaining, so I hurried home, got changed and then hurried to the train. I walked.

This, I think was a clue that I was giving myself about health. I think, about a month ago, I'd realised how unhappy the overeating was making me. I thought that I could maybe guilt myself into sorting it out by doing a bit of exercise. This didn't happen. It took a month before, for no reason I can particularly remember, the switch flipped and I went from salad-dodger to guinea pig.

Anyway, the walk to the railway station was pleasant enough. It's quite a long walk, but I had my mp3 player for company. I arrived about 8 minutes before the train was due to arrive. There was a moderately long queue and it was moving slowly. There are no machines at the station and I don't think you can just get on a train. I stood there, clock watching and getting impatient. It wasn't all that late, but I didn't want to lose any more of my evening than was necessary to the travelling. After much dawdling, the queue eventually moved in time for me to buy my ticket as the train was pulling into the station.

I grabbed my ticket and ran across the footbridge. The train still had 40 seconds before the time it was due to depart and I reached its door while it was still stationary. The whistle had blown 5 seconds previously. Remember, the delay in getting a ticket was not my fault. I'd been there in a reasonable amount of time to buy a ticket, but the queue had moved slowly due to incompetence and a lack of prioritisation of ticket sales. So, I was annoyed to reach the door and find the button did nothing.

I shouted. I waved. Nothing. I had the train in front of me, but nothing.

The train then moved off. I was angry. I ran after it for a bit. Then I realised that that might take me to London, but it would definitely get rocky after the end of the platform and it would probably not be as quick as waiting for the next one. Very very worked up I shouted a hearty "FUCK YOU" at the back of the departing train.

Looking at the departures board I then discovered that the next train (they're about every 20 minutes or so) was cancelled. So the bastard who drove away from me had wasted 40 minutes of my evening. Why don't people who work in the service industry understand that they're there to provide a service?

Writing opportunity
Luckily for me, I had brought a notepad with me. I had walked to the station with ideas going around my head and I now had a chance to note them down. The ideas were for the new adaptation of The Musical! which a couple of lads in Southampton want to put on. Their version needed some tweaking and some deal-with-things-which-are-bigger-than-tweaks-ing. So, I sat down and wrote. I wrote during the train journey and arrived in London calm enough to enjoy the evening.

Havin' a Laugh
Though perhaps something of a busman's holiday for me, my friend took me to a comedy club in London where we watched some acts. Some were good, one was absolutely fantastic. Outstandingly fantastic. I laughed more than I've laughed in a very very very long time.

If I can call Farnborough home, then I went home. I managed to include a chat with a stranger on the train about unspecified things (I can't remember and I'm not sure how much sense I made, being on the outside of a few light-beers). I also gave employment to a taxi. I didn't want to be over-keen with the physical exercise.


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