take one woman with low self esteem, but quite good hair
add one moronic illness
stir in some medication which causes hair to fall out
mix it all up and this is what you get...
Monday, September 19, 2005
Girl on a train?
Note: this post was typed into a Nokia 7200 on September 17 2005 on the 18:05 London Paddington to Penzance...
I sit here on the train, having discovered that paying a supplement to sit in first class provides no guarantee of a pleasant journey free from drunken sports fans and other undesirable characters. On the outward journey, I was hemmed in by a group of guys on their way to Queen's Park Rangers, one of whom managed to get through three cans of Strongbow during the two hour trip. The thought of sharing my return journey with a similar crowd a few hours (and a number of beers) later was not a welcome one... Even though one of them asked me if I was on my way to a modelling assignment (yeah, right...) which made me feel momentarily and girlishly gleeful, before I reminded myself that he was a bit of a plonker.
Incidentally, I say "sports fans" rather than "football fans" because I am privileged enough to have also experienced the new breed of cricket fan on a train journey from Birmingham after the Ashes test at Edgbaston. I was in the so-called quiet coach. The fans were in the corridor outside the so-called quiet coach. I think you can probably guess why the prefix 'so-called' is relevant here.
On that occasion, I was 'armed' with my weapon against irritating fellow passengers - which arguably and somewhat ironically made me an irritating passenger myself. Unfortunately, having left the aforementioned weapon in my car this morning with no time to go back and get it, I am unarmed and must listen to the inane drivel of those around me.
There is a couple in my eye line who, I suspect, were hoping that the first class carriage would be empty enough for them to... erm... what's the train equivalent of the mile high club? Sadly, their really-quite-frantic-under-the-circumstances fumbling is hard to miss from my vantage point, but if I were to move to face in the other direction, I would be blinded by the setting sun.
Despite (or indeed, in spite of) my surroundings, I sit here feeling rather serene. I went all the way to London on my own to meet some people today. Some of whom (well, one actually) I'd known before I started blogging (or "clogging", as my predictive text would have me believe), some I'd met before through blogging, some I'd been reading for a while and looking forward to meeting while others were off my "blog-dar" but I enjoyed meeting them anyway.
My fears were unfounded. As so many of you had predicted.
After the initial wave of nerves had died down, I flitted about, introducing myself sometimes to blank faces, sometimes to vague nods and "ahhhh"s and sometimes, just sometimes, not needing to introduce myself at all.
It sure is a funny old hobby we share, but you're a good bunch y'know.
<< Home
I sit here on the train, having discovered that paying a supplement to sit in first class provides no guarantee of a pleasant journey free from drunken sports fans and other undesirable characters. On the outward journey, I was hemmed in by a group of guys on their way to Queen's Park Rangers, one of whom managed to get through three cans of Strongbow during the two hour trip. The thought of sharing my return journey with a similar crowd a few hours (and a number of beers) later was not a welcome one... Even though one of them asked me if I was on my way to a modelling assignment (yeah, right...) which made me feel momentarily and girlishly gleeful, before I reminded myself that he was a bit of a plonker.
Incidentally, I say "sports fans" rather than "football fans" because I am privileged enough to have also experienced the new breed of cricket fan on a train journey from Birmingham after the Ashes test at Edgbaston. I was in the so-called quiet coach. The fans were in the corridor outside the so-called quiet coach. I think you can probably guess why the prefix 'so-called' is relevant here.
On that occasion, I was 'armed' with my weapon against irritating fellow passengers - which arguably and somewhat ironically made me an irritating passenger myself. Unfortunately, having left the aforementioned weapon in my car this morning with no time to go back and get it, I am unarmed and must listen to the inane drivel of those around me.
There is a couple in my eye line who, I suspect, were hoping that the first class carriage would be empty enough for them to... erm... what's the train equivalent of the mile high club? Sadly, their really-quite-frantic-under-the-circumstances fumbling is hard to miss from my vantage point, but if I were to move to face in the other direction, I would be blinded by the setting sun.
Despite (or indeed, in spite of) my surroundings, I sit here feeling rather serene. I went all the way to London on my own to meet some people today. Some of whom (well, one actually) I'd known before I started blogging (or "clogging", as my predictive text would have me believe), some I'd met before through blogging, some I'd been reading for a while and looking forward to meeting while others were off my "blog-dar" but I enjoyed meeting them anyway.
My fears were unfounded. As so many of you had predicted.
After the initial wave of nerves had died down, I flitted about, introducing myself sometimes to blank faces, sometimes to vague nods and "ahhhh"s and sometimes, just sometimes, not needing to introduce myself at all.
It sure is a funny old hobby we share, but you're a good bunch y'know.
<< Home