Are We Nearly There Yet?

The Skip looked like it was a competitor in 'Dancing on Ice' this morning. The sparkling white road had sealed itself round the tyres. I decided not to 'go for a spin' in case the car took this more literally than is generally meant. It was public transport for me again. At the station the shutters were down on the ticket window and there was a long queue forming around the forecourt as would be passengers struggled with the slowest ticket machine in the world. Naturally, as you would expect in this situation, the only-train-for-the-next-hour came and went while fists started thumping the screen and the whine of a printer spent ages detailing the exact route the passenger would take in copperplate writing (well, it might as well have been). The only amusement to while away the time was watching people running across the impacted ice of the forecourt (no gritting) to catch the only-train-for-the-next-hour and skidding, arms akimbo, into the current fist waving ticket machine victim.

The flashy station information board said, 'limited service, listen for announcements'. There were no announcements, but then there were no trains. Losing the will to live I decided to press the very big blue button on the scary information machine. This caused a stir among the other passengers, and I noticed one man move his paper away from his face to evesdrop. I toyed momentarily with the notion that the crowd on the platform were admiring my nerve in pressing the information button. The machine then made a series of the loudest bleeps ever heard - marking me out as the person who had dared stand out from the crowd. I think the bleeps were designed to be loud enough to be heard at the next station, rather than just ringing in the operatives' office. I asked the machine when the next train was, and it helpfully said there were lots 'going around'. I looked around and couldn't see one. The machine then thought there would be one 'any minute'. There was an audible sigh of relief from the platform. Sure enough, without any accompanying announcements or any indication where the train was going, it appeared. You do need to be telepathic with public transport and have confidence that the train you are stepping onto is actually going to the right place. The only-bus-for-the-next-hour I caught next was the opposite, in that its in-built machine told you far too much. Every stop was pinpointed with almost satellite accuracy, which just served to emphasise how slowly we were moving towards our destination. On the way home it helpfully repeated it all in reverse order. I had a game of Tetris on my phone and ended with motion sickness. I do hope the ice has melted tomorrow.