Monday, 21 July 2014

42069 18:37 Monday 21st July


This morning’s train escaped my notice and my camera when I decided on a smartish walk for the tube rather than hang around like the lurking spotter I am fast becoming and try to take a photo of the number.

Tonight, however, it was full of thrills and excitement when my usual tactic of “jump on the first train to Reading” (Copywrite 2012 BGC) nearly backfired on me. The first train in tonight’s episode was the 18:03 Penzance service and I was safely aboard Carriage E, 42333 (a duplicate) but the service didn’t start going anywhere until 18:08 when the driver finally decided to turn up and do his job.

There are rumours that the delay was caused by him being served a cup of tea made with a non-union teabag and served in a non-ASLEF mug. The only option of course was to walk out in a fit of pique with all members of TGWU coming out in sympathy.

Anyway in case you were all wondering where this was leading, this delay meant that the train I usually meet at Reading was now ahead of us. I was hoping the stop of Twyford that the other train must make would allow us to overtake but alas no, we crawled through Twyford at the rate of a drunken snail and I only had the sight of @emily1780 “waving” me goodbye.

Luckily all was saved by the FGW phone app which allowed me to note that whilst we were pulling into Reading on Platform 7 about 6 minutes late, my connection was being held on Platform 9. Springing up the escalators like a demented and rather overweight gazelle I emerged just in time to throw myself into Carriage C, 42069 and even had time to open the door for a blonde dreadlocked gentleman whose gazelle impression was even more overweight than mine.

Alas there were two chaps who must have been doing gnu impressions rather than gazelles as they arrived just as the doors locked. “Oh this is pathetic” one moaned “you’ll hold this one just outside the station to let that one overtake” – And indeed that’s exactly what happened. Still I hope the dispatch chaps reply of “I don’t care, it’s locked now,” went someway to softening the blow.

P.S. Just in case anyone is questioning the accuracy of this blog it turned out the blonde gentleman didn’t have dreadlocks, but actually had blonde braids. Happy now?

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