Do they do it deliberately? Do they lay on “special” events just because I’m having to come through to the DGP?
This morning in Waverly Station , the weary travellers last breath of fresh East Coast Air before being herded through to the Queens Street/Treblinka “selection ramp”, young ladies were handing out sample bags of jellied sweeties.
Those who are blessed by angels and never/seldom have to travel on the filthy, putrid, disease ridden cattle trucks operated by First Scotrail may have an idyllic notion of what it’s like. They probably imagine a lovely amble through beautiful countryside with the gentle rhythmic “ratty-tat-tat, ratty-tat-tat” of the train lulling them to sleep and the gentle soothing voice of WH Auden whispering his “Night Train” in their ear.
It’s not. It’s hell – and the face of hell is a fat, sweaty, adenoidal mouth breathing gut-bucket, shovelling a burger into his fat sweaty face at 7:10 in the morning then settling down to gurgle his delight as he masticates his free bag of sweeties. Well – given the noises he was making I can only hope he was “masticating”!
One of the few times that I’ve almost been thankful for tinnitus.
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