42209 & 42224
“Blah, blah, blah BGC, where’s the Leopard Print update? I can’t live my life without it. It’s so boring on the train without a blog update to read…..” and on and on and on and on.
So before he/she/it has a hernia, let me get today’s carriages out of the way and then we can get onto all things animal and keratin.
It was 42209, Carriage B on the 18:03 to Penzance and Carriage C, 42224 on the 18:37 to Frome. Highlight of the journey was sitting next to a chap reading what would have been called in my day, “Dungeon Master’s Guide” and looking at the pictures of the scantily clad elfish women.
So “Leopard Print” and “French Nails” – I boarded the morning train last Thursday and treated my rear end to one of my favourite seats, the isle seat next to Mr Williams. Mr Williams is a very dapper gent who boards at Reading. For those still trying to place him, he’s the chap who comes into Carriage A and usually yells out “Not that one!” as some Reading wazzock tries to steal his reserved seat. And just so everyone knows I’m not quite the stalker this post is making me out to be, how do I know he’s called Mr Williams? Well it says so on his reservation.
Anyway grabbing this seat means you’re almost certainly guaranteed a double-berth to yourself at least until Reading and as Mr Williams hasn’t been around for a while, if you’re really lucky, you get both seats to yourself all the way to London. Alas on this particular Thursday, two seats to myself was not to be, as I was surprised to be disturbed by Mr Williams himself and there was nothing else to do but to leap up like a startled gazelle and let him in.
But then the next day, Friday, I was fortunate enough to get the same seat again but somehow didn’t notice until I was sat sitting down that Mr Williams’s very own seat was occupied by a lady of certain years who was draped head to toe in Leopard Print. And yes, you’ve guessed it, she also had French Nails.
Now before I get accused of anything anti-sexual (or even sexual) this lady was perfect fine, she didn’t hog the armrest, she didn’t sniff or snort and she didn’t pick her nose with those perfect nails, but the journey wasn’t all sweetness and relaxation for me as I was worried what would happen at Reading when Mr Williams was sure to board.
Obviously I’d have to get up to let him in, and presumably she would too, but then what happens to that single vacant seat? Do I take it again as that’s where I was sitting and after all, it was Mrs Tigeress who’d made the original mistake? Or would she somehow expect to be able to do a sort of reverse “First Come First Served” and expect me to slink off and try to find another free place?
At the end of the day it was panic over as Mrs Tigress got off at Reading and Mr Williams was presumably having a long weekend as I ended up sitting next to some sweating day-glo clad cyclist, which was less than perfect.
So, it’s over to you, the jury…….if Mrs Tigress had stayed on, and if Mr Williams had come nipping down the isle with full expectation of his usual window seat, what would you have done?
