You either get used to crowded trains in London or you move elsewhere – that’s the deal. Yesterday, (rather appropriately, since it was Halloween) I had my worst ever train journey home.
I got into work super-early in order to leave early, catch the 5.25 from London Bridge and take the girls trick or treating. Unfortunately, there’s an inexplicable 25-minute gap between trains after the 5.25 (during rush hour, ten minutes is more usual).
If I missed the 5.25 there’d be two little girls going out of their frickin’ minds somewhere in Bexley. 😦
When the arrival board at London Bridge began saying the 5.25 “would be composed of 6 carriages” everyone on the platform began to frown (it’s normally at least eight – or even ten!)
Then the Lovely Melanie texted on behalf of the girls asking was I nearly home? Was I? Was I? Was I nearly home? When would I be home? Was I nearly home? Was I?
Then the 5.25 arrived, already full, and one person got off.
Just the one.
There was the usual orderly scrum to get on, but a couple of minutes later only half of us were on. I knocked on the window and politely asked people to move further down (always ask politely – don’t get angry or rude, that never helps).
People shuffled up and two more squeezed onboard.
Bugger, I thought, thinking of two little girls going out of their frickin’ minds somewhere in Bexley; I cannot miss this train.
It took an effort of will but – breaking every ingrained habit of English etiquette – I squeezed myself onto the already overloaded train.
It was horrible. No one could so much as lift a finger for the next 20 minutes. One poor woman was in tears.
In almost 20 years of London living that was the single worst train journey ever. 😦
But it was worth it when a hyper-excited squealing ghost and little devil came bounding up the path to meet me at home. 🙂