Train Rage

Those who know me well know I’m not all that good with Tubes and Trains and wherever possible I stick to my trusty Black Cabs. However it was my Fathers birthday last week, so yesterday I set off (with a rather fetching Hugo Boss tie I’d bought him) for Burnham in Berkshire. I had toyed with the idea of driving but as my car only ever leaves home to visit my Mother at Christmas my driving is rusty to the point of being a hazard. So I ventured forth on the Tube to get a train from Paddington, so far so good. Then it all went drastically wrong.

I arrived at Paddington to find a scene reminiscent of a refugee camp at Darfur, un-daunted, I purchased my ticket then glanced at the departure boards. Horror of horrors every train out of Paddington cancelled! Not even a whiff of an announcement and a queue longer than outside a national health dentist, for the information desk. Finally a tannoy emitting the voice of a person who I swear was gargling at the same time, announces the line to Cardiff and beyond (who knew there was anything past Cardiff?) has been closed due to a fire at Langley. Now having been to Langley, a blemish on the face of Slough, if thats possible, the news that it was ablaze would normally be welcome but not when my train is due to pass through!

The helpful if un-inteligable tannoy announced we should try alternative routes via Waterloo. So I hopped on a tube (mistake number two!) Having filled to the rafters with Paddington refugees I stood in sauna like heat for about 20 minutes with my face jammed into the armpit of a man who obviously hadn’t showered for years. Only to have the announcer tell us the line was now closed due to a defective train ahead! So en masse the refugees got off in search of alternative routes.

Over an hour later I finally arrived at Waterloo, where a sweaty woman with a remarkable resemblance to Margaret Rutherford informed me the journey to Windsor would take 40 minutes. As she was dressed in a hideously unflattering polyester uniform bearing the legend Great (ha!) Western and had an honest face I foolishly believed her! 1hr and 20 mins later I finally reached Windsor having stopped at every damn place in the Home Counties on the way. I arrived at my Fathers nearly 3 hours later a hot dishevelled mess.

After a pleasant visit it was off to the station for the journey home. We approached Slough Station with trepidation to be told the trains were working-ish. Working-ish turned out to be not working at all and after waiting for an hour and a half for a train I finally boarded a packed train for Paddington. I had to stand all the way and my joy at hearing there were no scheduled stops before Paddington was quickly erased by the realisation that due to points failure we were going to crawl all the way to London.

Then to add insult to injury I boarded the Tube for the final leg of my trek home, only for them to announce half way home….yes you guessed it….. due to a defective train! I finally got home after another 3 hour trek thanks to "Great" Western!

It’s time to get my car out of moth balls I think!

So how was your Sunday?

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