Tag: Train

7 Reasons This Poster Frustrates Me So

1. It’s Quicker By Rail. I’m sure it was, 75 years ago. Sadly, given the fact that my last foray on a train took a good deal longer than it took Neil Armstrong to get to the moon, I would suggest times have changed. And not for the better. It’s frustrating that this poster would now have to say, ‘It’s Quicker By Rail (Unless You Meet A Cow)’.

2. It Oozes Frenchness. This isn’t my usual anti-France and all things French rant, in fact, it’s made me think of Grace Kelly. Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, unless you happen to be writing this in front of your girlfriend. Now, I’ll be the first to acknowledge that Grace Kelly isn’t French – or at least a close second behind her – but in the film To Catch A Thief, she did spend an awful lot of time poncing around with Cary Grant on the French Riviera. And frustratingly, this picture reminds me of that poncing. And if there are two things I can’t stand, it’s poncing and the French. Together.

3. The Woman. While the man looks like he’s a man, the woman looks like a statue. It’s disappointing for those of us who take female equality so seriously. You would never find 7 Reasons being so vindictive. That’s why, at all times, 50% of us are strictly male lesbians.

4. Visit Scarborough. It looks quite nice in the poster. If I had been alive back in 1927, I may have got on the train. Unfortunately, having found a photo of its current state and transposed it over the poster, I can see that it hasn’t really changed much. Which is why I now have little option but to pay the £108.40 and take the 5 hour 40 minute journey (plus cows).

5. Chivalry. I am naïve. I believe it when the older generation say, ‘it wasn’t like this in my day’. They are usually talking about manners. Or sex. But that was the wrong club at the wrong time, so really it’s just manners. People used to say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’, though not necessarily at the same time, and men with walking sticks would most definitely offer them to women with bad backs. Sadly, though this poster indicates that in fact man couldn’t care less. Which means the older generation have lied to me. Either that or this woman is in fact a statue.

6. It’s Joe. This man is Joe Scarborough. He’s the host of Morning Joe on MSNBC. In a past life he was also a politician. The only reason I know this is because I found numerous pictures of him while searching for a photo for Reason 4. Rather frustratingly, forever more, I will hold this useless piece of information about Joe Scarborough in my mind. No doubt at the expense of some fascinating fact about sausages.

7. The Man. He reminds me of Piers Morgan. And I’m not sure why. Which means it’s doubly frustrating. And as doubly frustrating things tend to do, they will no doubt occupy my mind for the rest of the day. Which in turn, of course, means I will be dreaming about Piers bloody Morgan tonight. Thank you BBC News Magazine. Not what I call a public service.

August 10, 2010
7 Reasons You Should Never Go To Wimbledon With Me

The following is based on a true story. Sadly.

It Looks Like Rain

1. Rain. That’s what you’ll see when you wake up. Loads of it. ‘Bloody typical,’ you will say, ‘every day at Wimbledon has been hot and sunny this year. Except today. When the roads are flooding’. You’ll then have to decide what clothes to wear. Which is never an easy thing to do. Skirt or trousers. Shoes or flip-flops. Bra or no bra. Okay, the last one was me. And I went bra-less. Once decided, we’ll then make our way to the station where we find the…

2. Car Park is packed. Not a space to be seen. We’ll leave the station car park and I will make you drive to all the places in the village that require permits to park. You don’t have a permit. I shall then helpfully ask if you’d ‘just like to go home’. You don’t. You have taken a days holiday for this. You suggest we go to another station where car parking exists. I agree. But on the way, we quickly check our car park of choice again. I step up to the plate and spy a space. You have to circumnavigate a bus and do manoeuvres that make a Rubik cube look simple, but you get in there. Sadly, by the time we have disembarked via the sunroof* we have…

3. Missed The Train. We have thirty minutes until the next one, but don’t think you are going to be getting bored because now you are going to use your female charms** and get the nice man at the ticket kiosk to find us the cheapest route to London. He needs to take into account that we have one Network Railcard that comes into use at 10am. It is now 9:15am. The train leaves at 9:36am. It’s a problem that makes him wish he had a Maths GCSE. He succeeds though and the rest of the journey to Wimbledon goes without hiccup. Well, actually, it turns out to be very pleasant indeed. I teach you how to do a suduko and you teach me that I shouldn’t make comments about pictures of women in bikinis. Sadly this is where it goes horribly wrong again. Once inside the All England Club, we will discover that we are too late to get on Court 12 where we would have been able to watch Laura Robson and then Monsour Bahrami and Henri Laconte. Disappointed, I will try and cheer you up by buying you a…

4. Hot Dog. Though it had another fancy name that I can no longer remember. But it was a hot dog. A sausage in a roll. That’s a hot dog. Unless it’s a sausage roll. But this wasn’t. It was a hot dog. And I’ve just bought you one. And I’ve bought myself one. We shall walk away towards the ketchup. Here, I shall ask you where my hot dog is. You say you don’t know. I’ve left it behind haven’t I? Yes, I have. I walk back to the hot dog vendor and as casual as it is possible to say, I say, ‘I seem to have forgotten my hot dog’. I feel a bit stupid. You feel a bit stupid about being at Wimbledon with someone so stupid. The sun has come out though, so we go off to…

5. Court 5. Here I shall select the seats furthest away from the action. Thankfully, you have a bit more common sense than I do, so after we’ve seen the British Junior – Oliver Golding – win, we move to a better location. Here we watch another British Junior – Eleanor Dean – win. Then comes the match we came to this court to see. Greg Rusedski and Todd Martin against Jonas Bjorkman and Tood Woodbridge. Greg Rusedski injures his quad and at 5-0 in the first set, the match is over. I am beginning to think that there is going to be a 7 Reasons piece in this. You are beginning to think you should never have come to Wimbledon with me. Later, you advance towards jazz music and the champagne bar. I follow you with my…

6. Tea and Bourbon Biscuits. I don’t get hints. You realise I don’t get hints – either that or I am not prepared to pay £117 for Champagne when I have – just two hours previously – splashed out £3.30 on a pathetically small ice cream for you. We leave. Ninety-minutes later we are back in the…

7. Car Park. There are only four cars left, but, unsurprisingly, given that I am with you, your car is still boxed in. You climb over the bonnet and in through the sunroof and I direct you through a 27-point turn to get out of the space. You are now in touching distance of home. Nothing else can possibly go wrong.***

*Might be a slight exaggeration, but you definitely do not get out of your door.

**This won’t work if you’re a man.

***Until I start singing ‘I’m Coming Out’ by Diana Ross. All because you told me Spain and Portugal were coming out after half-time.

June 30, 2010
7 Reasons It’s Awkward Travelling On The Train (With A Strange Man)

1. It’s Monday morning and I am on the train to London. It’s after 9.00am so the train is fairly empty. I have a a block of six seats to myself. We pull into Maidstone East. A man gets on. He could sit anywhere. But he doesn’t. He sits opposite me, one seat across. Why? Why did he do this? But worse is to follow. He says, ‘Good Morning’. I feel awkward. I know shouldn’t. I know I should just be able to say ‘Good Morning’ back, but it feels strange. A stranger saying good morning to me on a train. I mumble a ‘Hi’ back, feel a bit embarrassed and go back to my book.

2. It’s no more than five minutes later. I am reading, but I can sense the man is looking at me. I feel awkward. I raise my head. Sure enough he is looking at me. He sees my attention on the book has lapsed and takes his chance. ‘Good book?’ he says. ‘So far, it’s very interesting,’ I reply. We spend the next five minutes talking about Harold Larwood. (I am reading his biography). I say we talk about Harold Larwood. He does most of the talking. I pretend to look interested.

3. There is a lull in what was never a flowing conversation. I feel awkward. Is now the time I go back to my book? Or is that deemed rude? Am I now supposed to talk to this man all the way to London Victoria? The man looks towards the window. I see this as the opportunity I have been waiting for. I turn back to my book. And I vow not to look up again.

4. We arrive at London Victoria forty minutes later. We haven’t spoken in that time. I stand up and grab my bag from the rack. The man is still sitting there. What is he waiting for? I feel awkward. What do I do? Am I required to say goodbye? I think about it. In fact I am sure I am about to say it. But I don’t. I just look at him. And half-smile. And half-nod. And half-walk off the train. The other half ran.

5. I’m waiting on the platform for a Wimbledon bound District Line train. Suddenly, from behind a bloke who is no doubt sponsored by Pukka Pies, appears someone I recognise. It’s the man again. And he’s seen me. I feel awkward. Now what do I do? I didn’t say goodbye. Surely that means I don’t say hello. But we can’t just stand next to each other and pretend we are just two people who have never seen each other before. That would be awkward. He’s getting closer. But here comes the train! I feel less awkward. I get on the train. I sit down. The man sits opposite me. I feel awkward.

6. My stop is next. Parsons Green. Surely this man isn’t going to get off here. We have spent twenty minutes not talking to each other. But I haven’t been reading. I have mainly been looking out of the window. But the window is behind the man. So occasionally I’ve caught his eye-line. And I’ve felt awkward. What should I have done? Is he thinking the same as me? Or have I hurt his feelings? Have I made him think he’s boring? Parsons Green arrives. The doors open. I stand up, turn left and alight. I walk down the platform. I dare not look back. I know, I just know, that if I do, he’ll be there. I walk home and never look back.

7. I’m in the kitchen. I’ve just flicked the kettle on. I decide there is probably a 7 Reasons post in this. Something about feeling awkward on the train. I get my notepad out and start scribbling down what happened. I get six reasons done and re-read them. As I read it, I feel awkward. I feel awkward about feeling awkward. I also feel very silly.

June 16, 2010
Guest Post: 7 Reasons Musical Chairs Is Not Just For Birthdays

Joining us on the 7 Reasons sofa this week is a packet of biscuits. Unfortunately, a packet of biscuits is incapable of writing a 7 Reasons post. Even when they are ginger nuts. As a result, I – that’s me – have been dragged into the office on a Saturday to entertain you. It better be bloody worth it. Show me you love me. Thumb me up.

Via http://www.fantasticalreality.com/

1. Speed Dating. There are so many reasons to introduce musical chairs to speed dating. Seven in fact. That is the correct number. It lets you see who is the fastest, the fittest and the least sweaty potential date. You can see who wants you more. They will go for the chair opposite you everytime. You can see who has a shocking taste in music. That’ll be the guy who skips a bit when Madonna’s ‘Material Girl’ comes on. Actually that’s two birds with one stone. You can also spot the best movers. And finally of course, you can see who can handle their drink the best. Literally I mean. The last thing you want is to bring someone back to yours who so readily spills red wine.

2. Getting Tables In Popular Restaurants. Now I’m quite good at getting tables in restaurants that are apparently always full. It’s not because I am well known, it’s because I book about five years ahead. I don’t see why so-called ‘celebrities’ should be able to just turn up and get a table though. What have they ever done apart from sell copies of Heat? Musical chairs gives power back to the people. They would beat a celebrity to a chair anyday. Okay, so they won’t be able to pay the bill, but that’s why you play musical chairs again at the end of the meal. Richard Bacon can pay it.

3. A Seat On The Bus/Train/Tube. It always annoys me when people don’t offer their seat to the elderly or those who look like they might be about to keel over. I’m not saying I’m perfect, there has been the odd time when I’ve made a pregnant woman have her contractions standing up, but in general I do offer up my seat. But I don’t see why it should always be me. I have as much right to sit down as the plank with his jeans round his knees. I couldn’t give a damn if he says he has to sit down otherwise they’ll be around his ankles. He should invest in a sodding belt. Or better still remain as he is. We play musical chairs; he’ll trip over; I get a seat. Result.

4. The Prime Minister. I don’t know about you, but whenever I watch PMQs it always annoys me that Gordon Brown never answers the bloody question. And the same applies to Tony Blair and John Major and everyone else who has had that seat. It’s about time we found out if anyone in the House of Commons can actually give a straight answer. A game of musical chairs is the most obvious way of finding out. (We’ll go clockwise. That means Harriet Harman is our last resort).*

5. The Cinema. It’s not like the theatre where you pay more for the best view. In the cinema you pay £12 (well you do where I live) whether you are in the perfect position to see the whole screen or just the perfect position to gain neck ache. Let’s sort it out. Everyone gets ten seconds in each seat. Genius.

6. My Lounge. In fact this applies to every lounge, dining room, kitchen, conservatory and reception room I have ever had the pleasure of living in. I always end up with ‘my’ chair. It’s not ‘my’ chair per se – apart from in this house because actually all the chairs are mine – it’s just the chair I have a habit of sitting in all the time. It’s not good for the cushions. They need another person to sit differently on them. I suppose I could just say, ‘Let’s swap seats’ but I live with a girl and she’ll probably just think I am accusing her of being fat, heavy lump. Which she’s not.

7. The 7 Reasons Sofa. Like me, I bet you have always wondered what would happen if I Marc and I swapped positions on the 7 Reasons sofa. The answer is probably nothing exciting – though I would be tempted to uncross my legs. My foot has gone to sleep. That would actually be a very humorous reason to play musical chairs with the 7 Reasons sofa. I would probably walk around the sofa like Kevin Spacey in The Usual Suspects and Marc would amble around like the BFG. Now I have said that, perhaps we’ll just stay as we are.

*7 Reasons has no allegiances to one party or another. I do, but 7 Reasons doesn’t.

April 24, 2010
7 Reasons That Time Zones Are Confusing

The way we measure and calculate time is a wholly abstract construct that is often difficult to grasp. And then, when we split it into zones – that are also abstract – it becomes very confusing indeed. Here are seven reasons why.

1. South Africa. I’m not a geographical expert, but I have rough grasp of the map of the world and how it relates to me. I’m in England; I know that South Africa is approximately 5,500 miles away from me. I also know that France is 21 miles away from England. But it’s exactly the same time in France right now as it is in South Africa. This means that when it’s lunchtime in Cape Town, it’s lunchtime in Paris, and when it’s teatime in Cape Town, it’s lunchtime in Paris. But they’re so far away from each other!

2. The Moon. The moon has a time zone of its own, Lunar Standard Time. Today’s date on the moon is 42-12-21. So if I go to the moon, I’ll probably need a separate moon calendar, and perhaps a moon watch, though I’m not certain about that. What I do know is that the time (and date) on the moon bear no relation to the time and date on Earth, or even in Paris, where it’s still lunchtime.

3. The North Pole. There isn’t a time at the North Pole. The moon has a time, but the North Pole doesn’t. The reason the North Pole doesn’t have a time zone is because there’s no permanent human presence at the North Pole – which makes me wonder if there’s something that we’re not being told about the moon? If you go to the North Pole, you can just choose (arbitrarily) to be in whichever time zone you like. This means that you can be in a totally different time zone to the person standing next to you and the same time zone as someone standing inside Starbucks in Croydon. Or Johannesburg. Or any Starbucks you like.

4. The South Pole. The South Pole is on New Zealand time, despite being a long way from it. This is because most of the things that the polar bases consume are imported from New Zealand. But in Britain, most of the goods we consume come from China, though we’re not on Chinese time (yet). This is good as their next New Year is in February, and my New Year guests arrive in December, and there’s only so much of me they can take.

The International Date Line

5. The International Date Line. You may have already noticed that it’s not straight. This means that if you travel sort of North-Eastish, by sea, from New Zealand, the date may change several times on the way. The date line isn’t a time zone though, so when the date changes, the time doesn’t. So you know it’s 2pm, because that’s what your watch tells you, but you don’t know if it’s today, yesterday, tomorrow or Thursday – which must make arranging shipboard entertainments damn nigh impossible. And what if one of the days is your birthday? If you’ve worked on a sort of North-Eastish-sailing ship from New Zealand for a few years, you could end up having your fifty-ninth birthday at the age of twenty-seven. And then your presents would be inappropriate. What twenty-seven year old wants a subscription to the Radio Times and a pair of Totes Toasties for their birthday?

6. Trains. The Indian Pacific train in Australia has its own time zone. On its journey between Kalgoorlie and Kalgoorlie the time on the train bears absolutely no relation to the time zone that the train is in. This is because it crosses several time zones (including a weird one that changes in half hour increments). I find this confusing, but compared to British trains – which also seem to operate in their own time zone, one that bears no relation to either the time outside the train or the published timetable – it seems quite straightforward.

7. Greenwich. Greenwich Mean Time (GMT) is the time zone of zero degrees longitude. Greenwich is in London. London switches to Summer Time (BST) during the summer months. This means that London is an hour ahead of Greenwich in the summer. But, as Greenwich is in London, Greenwich is also an hour ahead of itself. This makes my head hurt. But if anyone can think of a way in which I can exploit this to plan a heist or win the lottery, please let me know.

April 12, 2010
7 Reasons To Get On The Wrong Train

1. For A Seat. Why is it that whenever you get to your train it’s full and the one on the opposite platform is empty? Every bloody time it happens. You end up having to sit with some woman from Birmingham. Every bloody time. Get on the wrong train. Get a seat. Get a woman from Worcester.

2. For Thinking Time. You’re going to be late for work anyway. You always are. The excuses are wearing thin. Your dog can’t die every morning. He’ll get bored lying. Getting on the wrong train gives you more thinking time.

3. For First-Class Travel. Get on the wrong train and travel first-class. You may as well, you’re going to get chucked off anyway. May as well get chucked out of comfort when you’ve had your free tea and newspaper.

4. For The Adventure. The Unknown. Where will you end up? Will you get on the Love Train or the Midnight Train To Georgia? Or will you end up in Luton. It’s like Russian Roulette. On trains.

5. For The Journey. The journey is always better than the destination. Remember all those school trips? The coach trip was always so much better than the actual Geography fieldwork you had to do in the…erm…field.

6. For Escapees. The likelihood is that you aren’t reading this in prison, but if you are – and you are lucky enough to escape – it is worth remembering that if you don’t know where you are going, you can be sure no one else does.

7. For A Different Time. Who says it is the wrong train? It might be the right train and just the wrong time. So okay, I suppose that does make it the ‘wrong train’, but it isn’t necessarily the wrong train. If you catch my drift. Or should that be train? Either will do. Do you? No, I can’t remember what I asked either.

April 7, 2010