44042 & 42217
But it’s back in the saddle today with a double-bagger of last night’s 17:05 to Frome where I sat in a reverse formation Carriage A called 44042 – more of that later - and tonight where the 17:49 Worcester Service brought me as far as Reading inside 42217, which was a Carriage C.
So what was the news from the 4402 – Well the eagle-eyed amongst you will have noticed that of course any Carriage A should be a “quiet carriage” and here we might as well stop and consider the word “should”.
I think I’ve mentioned before that in the mornings I only limit myself to Carriage A’s because I simply can not face the noise levels of the other carriages first thing in the mornings and at this time of day, by and large, Carriage A does live up to its quiet billing and is an oasis of rustling newspapers and the gentle clearing of throats.
Later in the day though it can become a real case of hit and miss, sometimes the carriage remains fairly quiet but at others it can be party central and you’d have a quieter journey sticking your head out the window at full speed – don’t try that at home kids.
But what grinds my gears is that the majority of people go in the quiet carriage to deliberately be exactly that, quiet, but there is a certain set of people who simply don’t believe this sentiment applies to them. It’s not the silent carriage so of course there is always a certain level of noise and I would never shush and tut at someone who is making a low level of noise and I even give the phone call makers the benefit of the doubt just to see if it’s just a very quick “I’m on the train” call.
But last night’s offender was in full chat mode with not one but two calls that spanned right through the Train Manager’s welcoming speech and with no sense of irony this blathering pest chatted right through the request to keep noise down in Carriage A.
I gave her 5 minutes and then politely (yes, honestly, it was polite) said “excuse me, it is the quiet carriage.”
The shrew faced harridan then said to her phone callee “I’m going to have to go, I’m being shouted at.” She hung up and then said “You are so rude!”
Not wishing to prolong any sort of disruption for the benefit of the others I didn’t react but just in case there’s a wild chance the prune mouthed witch-woman is reading……you think that was rude? Well, honey, you ain’t seen nothing yet………you mardy arsed bitch-cow-bag, I fucking hate you. And just so we’re crystal clear, your husband fucking hates you cause you make him use a penis beaker and still deny him anal after 10 years of a soulless, empty marriage; your kids hate you cause you’re a nagging siren who cares more about tidy bedrooms than pillow fights and fun; the whole fucking carriage fucking hates you cause you hog the armrests and you have the BO of a camel in heat; oh, and I fucking hate you as well. Bitch.