Today I travelled by train. I rather wish I'd not, after some discomfort, and I will reconsider in future. Three trains took me to Livingston, but I needed two to get back, after being dropped off in Edinburgh. So, a fairly long day that should have (in theory) been relaxing, and should have allowed me to do some work. However, next time I think I will drive. Even though the effort of just over 400 miles in a car might seem excessive, I believe (for reasons I will explore below) there's justification in one person travelling by car rather than train.
The advantages of sitting in your own motor are numerous, and they are:
There's no need for a special "Quiet Zone". The train windows this morning were adorned with this label, which was not surprising because I'd pre-booked a seat and it happened to be in the Quiet Coach. When I took my position, I was pleasantly surprised to find a lot of legroom in the 'airline' seat, and considered that the journey was set to be good and relaxing. I turned my phone to silent and started to read the paper. I was more than happy to forego doing any work, other than to nip out of the carriage to make a couple of calls. However, I was soon challenged; a woman got on at Newcastle with her three kids. That in itself was not cause for concern, but the fact that they sat in the Quiet Zone and were anything but quiet was most definitely out of order. The annoying little shits (one in particular) were talking so loudly that despite their seats being at the other end of the carriage, I could hear every fucking question, observation and emission. I felt sympathy for those sitting much nearer. Why on earth does East Coast Trains not ban noisy kids from the Quiet Coach? Why does a mum take 3 kids on board a train and sit them in a Quiet Coach unless the shits are mute? Grrrrrrrrr. Of course, in my car I can set the noise level to whatever I want. There is no tribe of noisy fuckers planted in the vehicle to annoy me.
When I am in my car, I don't have to join in any games of musical chairs or watch others shuffling about between numbered seats. In my car, I am in seat number one - in fact, I am in the proverbial Driving Seat. This morning, at the non-noisy kid end of the quiet carriage, ( ie. next to me!) there was a mild mannered dispute regarding the occupancy of two seats that were apparently "Pre-booked", according to the chap who announced it three times, and belittled a little woman sitting behind me in his chair. Daddy Bear secured for his wife the empty (pre-booked) seat next to me, and Mrs Meekness sat without a word. This was after the trenchcoat-wearing tall woman got up and moved after Daddy Bear highlighted her presence as a non-conformance. So, I endured the shuffling, while a boring exchange took place between Little Woman and Daddy Bear, who actually decided he'd stand for the Newcastle to Edinburgh leg. I think once he was acknowledged as 'in the right', he was happy to be chivalrous. Now, if I were in my car, no one would have been in the seat next to me.
On the way back, I was tortured by the painful one-sided conversation offered to me by the bloke behind, who was too loud on his mobile phone. The window seemed to reflect his rambling shit towards my ears, and I learned everything I never wanted to know during his conversations with his Gran and a girl he knows in Hull. Granny wanted to know the inside of a duck's arse, and he relayed all details about his few days in Edinburgh. Costs of everything, quality of the food, details of his schedule, and all about his new job. It was oh so fucking excruciating. Then, the female in Hull was his target. Johnny is apparently a nutter who has mistreated her, but has slagged her off to all his friends, and he's well out of order. This was not so much 'The Only Way Is Essex', but 'I Feel I've Been To Hull and Back'. The mobile user was a dick, and his delivery of the blurb was as far from entertainment as Cannon & Ball in Panto. The weirdest line was, "For some reason I imagine that you've got a kitten". She hasn't got one, never has had one, and doesn't want one. I suspected he wanted to see her pussy. He was arriving in Hull at around 7pm, and was going to pop round to see her new flat. Twat.
Upon arrival, in my car, I could have left my belongings on board without the threat of them being taken away and blown up by the police. I could have exited my car without fear for my life; it's unlikely that my foot could possibly disappear down a fucking great gap between the door sill and the pavement. If I were driving my car home, I'd not have been sprayed with Diet Coke as there would have been no one next to me opening a 500ml bottle. Nor would I have had to smell Cheese and Onion crisps, or listen to a Grab Bag's worth of them being consumed at 300mph by the gangly 19-year-old.
No, in my car I would have had full control of the environment. I could have opened a window (unlike on the train) and I could have avoided shit input from other travellers. The seat would have been more comfortable than that on the last leg of my train journey, which involved me sitting on a seat with less padding than a squashed Fig Roll.
The madness is that usually, cars make financial sense when two or more are travelling, and for a single person, the train is usually cheaper. However, I would have used ten gallons of petrol, so £60 worth. But my train fare was £72 and I had to get a lift and a taxi (£5) at the other end. So all in all I really should have travelled by car.
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