Never on a Sunday

What could be more annoying than arriving at a train station to discover that you have missed your train by one minute, and the next one is in an hour?* Well, having half your party – crucially, the half carrying the picnic – being swept off to Reading because they rashly went back onto the train at Maidenhead to fetch a jacket one of them had forgotten would be quite annoying, but fortunately they leapt off again in the nick of time. And missing our connection to Marlow due to a last minute dash into the ladies due to the inevitable consequences of drinking a bucket-sized cup of coffee to pass the time at Paddington would also have been pretty irritating (am I the only person in London who would be willing to drink a slightly less jumbo sized cup of coffee – say something slightly smaller than my head, or my bladder – in return for not having to pay three quid for it?) although fortunately we avoided that too, just.

No, what would be really really annoying, annoying enough for me to blog about it on what is after all my day off, would be if the ticket inspector on the Marlow train – being the second ticket inspector who had looked at (and, more to the point, stamped) our tickets – looked at them for a very long time, looked at us, and then pointed out cheerfully that had we got a groupsave ticket it would have saved us twenty quid, but that now they had been stamped, we couldn’t get a refund.

Yes, that would be very annoying indeed.

*Any answers involving the words ‘two hours’ are disqualified on the grounds of obviousness.


2 responses to “Never on a Sunday

  1. Oh dear! Not a good day one way or another. Here’s hoping tomorrow is better.

  2. Oh well, at least it didn’t rain. And after the week we’ve had, that’s something

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