Here is something I wrote on the train on Saturday, I hope it entertains you.
3:15pm: It is currently quarter past 3 on a Saturday afternoon and things are not going well. I was due to arrive in Plymouth to spend the weekend with my good friend Kathryn about an hour ago. This has not proven to be the case. I will most likely arrive in an hour’s time, but today’s experiences have taught me to expect otherwise.
My bus this morning started this horrendous chain of events though the roots of these problems go back a few days; this I will come back to later. Essentially, the bus I got should have arrived at Southampton Central train station at 2 minutes past 11, a full 8 minutes before the departure of my train. However, it did not. It arrived at 11 minutes past 11, a mere one minute after my train’s departure, but enough of an issue to royally destroy the rest of my day. I waited an hour for the next train to Westbury, it arrived 5 minutes late, meaning I missed what would have been a late connection to Plymouth anyway, but even this was not the major issue at hand at this stage.
As soon as I realised I would be late I attempted to contact Kathryn. Her phone was switched off or otherwise unavailable, and so I left a text and a voicemail message imploring her to phone me as soon as possible. I even attempted to text a mutual friend in the hope that that he would be able to contact her online. No doubt both have tried to contact me since then, but I would not know. My phone has been dodgy for a few days and is now thoroughly not working, to the extent that I cannot access messages, numbers, anything.
This left me in a predicament and, upon arrival in Westbury, I set about trying to rectify the situation. I knew I would be late, but how late? The nice men at the help desk cheerfully informed me that I would be at least two hours late, then, with equal joy, told me there was no wifi, so I could not use the internet to contact her either.
BUT! There was a pay phone, and I had some pound coins, perhaps there was hope after all. But I could not access my contacts on my phone and thus would not be able to reach Kath, not knowing her number by heart. Having wasted £2 in a hopeless conversation with directory enquiries, the Geordie man on the other end summer up my situation perfectly: ‘You’re a bit buggered aren’t you?’.
There was no time left to ponder other options at this stage, the train to Taunton was about to leave, and I needed to be on it to have any hope of reaching Plymouth. On the train I hoped there would be Wi-Fi, alas there was not. I hatched a plan. Scouring the records of my laptop for a phone number, any phone number, of someone who would know Kathryn, I was on my real last hope here. Success! Simon Davies, his number contained in the chat log of a long forgotten MSN conversation, was the link I needed. Still though, I lacked a phone. Having transferred to what I pray will be my last train of the day, I found a fellow passenger, sat in front of me, willing to lend me his phone. I called Simon, and this is where the story leaves me. I have asked him to pass on my message, though he is unsure if he has an up to date phone number for Kath.
I don’t know if he will reach her. I do not even know if Kath received my original messages. I hope he did and hope she did. I should point out that the train manager has just informed us of a fault, meaning we will have to transfer to another train. This really is one of those days. I’m so sorry Kathryn, if I ever reach you, maybe I’ll be trapped on this train forever. I’ll have to pack my stuff up now, so this is where I’ll leave things for the moment and I’ll pick things up when I’m once again able to access my laptop.
3:49pm: Onto the replacement train now, apparently the other one is broken. Hopefully I’ll be in Plymouth before too long.
