write.as/jonbeckett

I'm sitting on the train to Glasgow, which is presently sitting in the depths of Euston Station, London. I'm not going to Glasgow – the train is – I'm leaving it at Preston, about 200 miles north of London.

I thought this journey was going to be incredibly boring, but the universe proved me wrong within minutes. While standing on the platform at Maidenhead station en-route to London, two people in their twenties stood next to me on the platform edge. I didn't look at them, but guessed they were perhaps in their early 20s. They talked non stop about what their various friends had posted on Facebook, or Snapchat, or wherever the hell else the early twenty-somethings are using these days. After a few moments she grabbed his phone, and proudly stated that she was going to check out his call history.

That would be about the moment the nuclear bomb went off, right next to me. Inbetween the curses, accusations, and general abuse being hurled back and forth, it appeared that the guy had spent two hours on the phone to a girl the night before – not the girl he was standing next to. She repeatedly said she didn't care, because she wasn't his girlfriend, but she just wouldn't shut up about it. Ten minutes later – aboard the train – her assault still hadn't abated – she now wanted to see what the other girl looked like. She asked again and again – in the same way a 12 year old might. When they finally got off the train at Ealing, I got a look at them. He had tracksuit bottoms hanging half-way down his ass, and a baseball cap perched sideways. She just had jeans and a black top on. I could only figure she was associating with him to annoy her parents (or he was trying to be “different”)...

While waiting for the train at Maidenhead an old man wandered up to me, and read my shirt aloud while stood in front of me. It's a classic “Think Geek” shirt – it says;

“Give someone a program, and you'll frustrate them for a day. Teach them how to program, and you'll frustrate them for life.”

The London Underground was entirely unremarkable. First train from Paddington to Edgeware Road, then over the bridge to catch the circle line towards Euston Road. Out into the daylight at Euston Road, and then a walk along the street to Euston Station.

I had 40 minutes to kill at Euston, so went for a wander around the shops. While doing so, I thought “would be a great idea to go to toilet BEFORE getting on the 2 hour leg of the journey north”, and then realised I had no change on me (the toilets cost 30p to use, but they are permanently staffed, and spotlessly clean). I had to find an ATM, get some money out, then go and spend some of it to get a small enough amount of change to then put into a change machine to get the right coins for the toilets. Idiocy reigns sometimes.

A short while after arriving back in the station concourse, my train appeared on the boards – at platform 15 – the far end of the station. I joined the exodus of people rushing towards the train, happy for once that I had a seat reservation in my pocket – then slightly unhappy when I reached my coach, and boarded directly behind the woman that would be sitting next to me. In a happy accident, it turned out the train was half empty, so she ended up moving to another row entirely. If she hadn't, I would have – there are spare seats everywhere.

We left Euston a few minutes late. The PA system crackled into life after sitting stationary for a few moments – there were people on the railway line, and the police were en-route.

So here we are. Whistling across the countryside – heading north. Fields with sheep and cows hurtle past, bridges flash overhead, and occasionally trains heading back towards london pass by, turning the windows into Zoetropes.

In a strange sort of way, I'm almost missing having a crazy passenger somewhere nearby. The Australian lady from earlier in the year was pretty entertaining, even if she did make me want to shout “SHUT UP

I'm beginning to wonder if we'll ever reach the destination. The train stopped for ages in the middle of nowhere – a “signalling problem”, and is now crawling along at about 10mph. I'm guessing we have fallen foul of the idiotic game where if your train becomes late, you become the fall-guy for the entire line, because the late running fines are charged per service.

As I write this, we are finally accelerating. No word from the driver. Not getting my hopes up.

The lady sitting behind me has been attempting to make telephone calls throughout the entire journey. She keeps apologising to those she is calling, and saying “it's a dodgy connection”. No lady, it is not – you are moving between phone network masts at speed. The phone network was not built to handle it. Stop trying to have long calls. As I speak, she's been cut off again. I can't help smiling.

There's a guy a few rows in front of me that keeps burping. Loud berps. Disgusting. There's no excuse for it either. He's smartly dressed, early 60s.

Train manager is now on the PA system. Apparently we can get compensation forms. I might try that out – if work pay my expenses, and I get the ticket refunded, I will essentially get money for nothing.

60s guy just let out another enormous burp. Almost sounded like he was going to be sick. Idiot.

There are two young lads sitting under a bridge we are just passing. In the middle of nowhere. I'm wondering what they are doing – they are sitting on the slop of the bridge support, both with writing pads on their lap.

Now fields of corn. Whenever I see fields of corn I think of the movie “Field of Dreams”, where the guy creates a baseball pitch in the middle of his farm, and the ghost of players from the past come to play. Wonderful movie. They don't make movies like that any more – it's a shame. Hollywood is ruled by a balance sheet these days – nobody is willing to take a risk on an idea.

I'm listening to “The Planets” by Gustav Holst – partly because it's great writing music, and partly to block out the conversations around me on the train. I know the train should arrive at about 5:20 at my destination, so I'm not really watching for stations any more. Jupiter is playing at the moment. It's about to let rip into the section that was used in “The Right Stuff” to accompany the liftoff of John Glenn aboard Mercury 7. Wonderful music. Wonderful movie. I've often wondered if the movie might be remastered with modern special effects – in the same way the Star Wars movies have been re-imagined. It's chock full of A-list actors before they became well known, and tells the story of the US space program, from Chuck Yeager's flight aboard “Glamorous Glennis”, through to Gordon Cooper proving he was the best pilot anybody ever saw, aboard the final Mercury flight (no, seriously – go read about it).

Something just occurred to me that might amuse you. While we were away in Ireland, I used the “roaming” part of my phone contract, which entitled me to unlimited roaming for free. When we got home, I got a text from the network, telling me “you saved 250 on roaming charges this month”. How ridiculous is that? It's like saying “you saved 50,000 on this cost we dreamed up that we haven't charged you anyway”. I would call the network idiots, but I've already called other people idiots in this post already.

I wonder if there are levels of idiot?

Anyway... this post has gone on for far too long already. Take it as read that I will arrive at my destination, and post this as soon as I have an internet connection up and running.