It's (not) good to be back

Several months with not a single journey requiring the services of Third Rate Western has been most pleasant. Off to London yesterday, though, and even I am not stupid enough to attempt that journey in the car. There's only so much Radio 4 one can tolerate to be honest.

So, up early and away we go.

Suit - check
Wallet - check
Oyster card - check
Mobile - check
Check the live departure boards - check

And off to the station. I note that knackered old parking ticket machine is still proudly guarding the bottom of the steps to the platform, but there do appear to be a couple of new machines elsewhere in the car park. Whether they work or not is, of course, another matter. Never mind, I pay by text message these days - which is presumably what APCOA wanted to encourage me to do by failing to fix the machines for NEARLY TWO YEARS!

I digress. We're here for a train journey to London, not an investigation into parking facilities. So, although the live departure boards indicated all was well in the world of Third Rate Western it is, as is so often the case, not. Not at all. Bugger all trains is what it is, in fact. Something has happened, somewhere near Swindon. Not sure what, or precisely where, but chaos ensues.

In a rare moment of sympathy for the poor platform staff (even though they do have a nice warm box to skulk in), I take issue with a fellow commuter who seems to think that the staff have deliberately screwed up his journey just for shits and giggles. They clearly enjoy a crowd of irate travellers demanding to know where the train is. As it happens, they have no more idea than I do, and I even tried asking a pigeon.

So off we go to Bath, to get a train that's going to London, via Bradford-on-Avon and Newbury. An opportunity to gaze upon the beauteous vista that is Trowbridge is usually welcomed, as is a fleeting glimpse of the White Horse of Westbury, but this morning is really not the time to enjoy them, as I am late. Very late.

So, no-one, least of all the unfortunate platform staff, knew what was going on. Perhaps we should all be grateful, though, that amongst the chaos, the four revenue protection stalwarts were on guard, ensuring that nobody could get onto a train without a ticket. Not that there were any trains to get on, but if Hitler had taken that kind of view, he'd never have made it to Dusseldorf let alone Dover.