I came up to Yorkshire to visit my mum this weekend. Hooray! The downside of that is the 4 1/2 hour train journey required to get from Egham to Malton (and at least 40 minutes of that was just getting into London. Egham is not a convenient place to live.
So that’s how I started the day. Very early. It’s not my fault it literally takes minutes to print pre-bought tickets from the machine! (A lot less stressful than I was imagining. so that’s good.)
There was a man wandering around the station inspecting tickets. Mysteeeerious.
The train to Waterloo was pretty uneventful, apart from the guy on the train who just kept talking to me. Seriously? Monosyllabic answers didn’t give away the fact I wasn’t interested in talking to you? No?
And then my accidental tube-etiquette fail when I let one woman with a pram on the tube and then got in the way of another woman with a pram. And then another woman hit me with her bag. OK THAT’S GREAT. CLEARLY FRIDAY IS A BUSY TUBE DAY?!?!
Enough rage. Let’s get on the train to Newcastle!
Or I would, if they just told me the sodding platform it was leaving from. Thanks, Kings Cross staff. Couldn’t do it without you.
I very kindly swapped seats with a woman who couldn’t get a seat with her 4 year old son. (I know, such a martyr) And then the train left… a bit late, but I’m sure we’ll make up the time! I have a connection train at York to catch! At 16:40! The train gets there at 16:30… or maybe 16:35, but I’m sure I’ll catch it.
Oh, random woman? You didn’t understand the tickets? Thought there was a 33 aisle and a 33 window? Nope, just one seat 33. That’s generally how it works. You’re not getting this seat mate. jog on
(train journeys make me grumpy)
Of course, we arrived in York 20 minutes late. I had forgotten to eat, so my first call was to a cafe to nab a hot chocolate and caramel shortbread. (everyone else calls them millionaire shortbread, Yorkshire. Just saying) And then I had to defend being on the wrong train to the ticket inspector, who seemed extremely unimpressed. It’s not my fault! Don’t blame me! Blame those wankers at Kings Cross!