Another day, another train journey. Today I was off to Manchester to do another Pulp Boy preview.
I faffed around the house in the day and got ready to go catch my 14:15 train from Euston, only a 15min walk from my house.
Nice and relaxing like.
It was only when leaving my flat a little late (bout five to two – cutting it fine) that I thought it might be sensible to check the ticket.
It was for 14:05
Oh.
Could I still make it?
No. I tried, but the bus I jumped on hogged all the red lights. I missed the train by about a minute. It wasn’t too bad, there was another one twenty minutes after, but I had the ticket inspector fear, I went to find out how much a new ticket to replace the £12 one I had would be… the answer came back as £57.10. I got on the next train and looked sheepish.
But then the announcer told me (me indivdually, but over his train speaker system) that anyone with the kind of ticket I had but on the wrong train would have to pay the FULL fare of £80 – these aren’t valid.
Well, now I was a bit scared, I’m a bit skint and didn’t have time to get a coach. I had to fork out £60. I wasn’t happy.
And they didn’t check my ticket for ages on the train – I was getting more and more livid until I nearly barged into the drivers cabin and rubbed it in his face, hoping my £2.90 change choked him, as long as it didn’t choke him enough to crash the train… I didn’t want that.
I wouldn’t have minded if I could blame someone else for missing the train… but it was just me being a moron.