Some days you’re just luckier than others (as I was talking about the other day: Some days). And on Saturday this week I went to visit my cousin who lives down near Bath. It was going to be a long trip six hours in total of travelling for six hours of visit time but then it was just one of those things that you have to go and do sometimes. It was their housewarming, their husband’s birthday so a visit was in order. Anyway I thought, I’ll get a chance to catch up on some reading on the train.
So off we went to the station, Katherine and I were running a bit late. But so was Pete, we got to Clapham Junction and a train just magically pulled up, we made up the time and got to Paddington with plenty of time to buy the tickets and some food. And this is where the first thing went wrong of the day. Because of some confusion about how we were going to be getting down there (car or train) we didn’t buy any tickets until we got to the station. And once we went up to the machine the tickets were 45 pounds each! So £135 in the hole we went to the shops to buy some food. The rest of the train journey was fine, and actually quite enjoyable. That’s right we were being lulled into a false sense of security. In fact this security went on all of the way through the party at my cousins house. It was fun, there was good conversation and food. So it was time to leave, all we needed was a lift to the station. The journey to the station should have taken twenty minutes, but…
two hours. There was some kind of mysterious “cars driving into Bath convention” going on. Loads and loads of traffic and no seeming problem at the end of it. After about an hour and half we had to get out of the car and start walking. We’d missed two trains. And once we got out of the car and Dominic had turned around and went back home two things happened. It started raining, and there was suddenly no more traffic.
Pete suddenly said, “One of us is unlucky today who is it”?
To which I replied that it must have been Dominic and that the traffic had moved around now to block him on the way home.
Which seemed funny at the time but clearly it wasn’t true. So we headed off to the station in the rain and started following the signs to the station. But because we were on a ring road the signs were taking us the way that the cars are taken to the station. Katherine at one point said that surely we must need to walk through the town centre to get to the station but there were no signs in the town centre so we followed the road signs. And by the time we arrived at the station thoroughly soaked we could tell two things. First that we’d walked around the whole of the outside of Bath, and second we could see the place that we’d started from from the station and what had taken half an hour would have taken five minutes.
Well we got to the station and as luck would have it the train we thought we’d missed was running late and was still stopped at the station. Excellent we thought. Lets get on this one. However the train was broken, so then we had to get on a train on the other platform that then had to swap positions with the other train. Finally we were on a train and it started moving, after fifteen minutes it suddenly stopped and started going backwards. And another fifteen minutes later we were…
back in Bath train station.
Then another ten minutes later we finally left the station and headed for London. It had taken us two and a half hours to leave Bath!
After we got back to London we were walking back to our house. It was so late that the back entrance to the train station was closed so we had to walk around from the front and under the railway bridge. In the six years that I’ve lived here it’s something that I’ve probably done once a week without incident. But today, today something, some force, some something, needed to tell everyone that it wasn’t our group that was unlucky, but that no instead it was me – Alex.
How do I know it was me and not say Katherine or Pete?
I’ll tell you how. Because as I was walking under the railway bridge a Pigeon shat on me. And I’m not just talking a small amount either, oh no.
Massive white and brown runny gobs of crap all over my shirt. And then as I turned to see what it was the biggest bit of white shiny poo slid right into the middle of my crotch. Yes dear reader it looked like I had become a bit too excited.
All I could smell the entire time I was walking home was the incredible smell of scampi!
It was truly a crappy end to a crappy journey. At least Katherine and I got to laugh about it all the way home.
You can read her version of events here: A bird under a bridge