Tag: Trains

Guest Post: 7 Reasons To Travel By Train

Some people have got a real grudge against train travel. We want to change opinions, so here are seven great reasons to travel by train:

1. Someone Else Is Driving. Which means you don’t have to concentrate on anything (except maybe which stop you need to be getting off). You’re free to let your mind wander, whether it be to what you want to eat for tea or how you can help solve world peace. You could never find the solution to world harmony while you’re watching your speed, checking your mirrors and beeping your horn at the idiot who just cut you up.

2. It’s Like Real Life Facebook. Yes, you can actually meet people. If you’re single, then trains are a fantastic dating opportunity. Meeting your future spouse on a train is admittedly not very glamorous, but there is something infinitely romantic about locking eyes with a perfect stranger across the buffet cart. And it’s not just the train itself – many people have found love on the station platform. As you wait patiently behind the yellow line, remember that a different kind of train could arrive at any moment…

3. Green And Pleasant Land. You get to see more of the country. Rolling hills, beautiful coastline, stunning valleys – railway lines can often take you were other modes of transport simply cannot go. If you’ve opted for cheap train tickets to Birmingham, then the view might not be so aesthetically pleasing. But it’s not all disused warehouses and graffiti-clad walls – there really are some amazing sights to be seen from a train window.

4. Meals On Wheels. Who doesn’t love the refreshment trolley? There is nothing nicer than sitting back and enjoying a delicious cheese ploughman’s sandwich whilst watching the countryside roll by.

5. Cash To Splash. It’s great value for money. You can get a great deal with train tickets, meaning you have more cash to spend on that new pair of jeans/handbag/Xbox game/car/house/pet budgie.

6. Sense Of Direction. You can’t get lost on the way. Forget sat navs telling you to ‘turn around when possible’, forget trying to navigate around unpronounceable places and forget arguing with other people over who was right about that last junction. Trains get you from A to B without ever getting lost.

7. Sans Frisk. You can board a train without having your bottle of water confiscated, being forced to remove your shoes and then being groped by a burly security guard. Should you be particularly attached to any of your possessions, such as a special screwdriver, personalised ice skates or a rare range of party poppers, you can also rest assured that these will not be taken away from you on a train.

February 1, 2012
7 Reasons That Attacking A Train With A Bag Of Stones And Excrement Is A Bad Idea

It is said that everyone remembers where they were when they heard that JFK had been assassinated. Similarly, that everyone remembers where they were when Princess Diana died. I don’t know about that. One thing is for sure though, I will always remember where I was when I heard that a train had been attacked using a bag containing stones and excrement suspended from a wire. Here are seven reasons that it’s a bad idea.

1. It’s Unfriendly. I admit, sometimes we’ve had houseguests that have overstayed their welcome and I’ve wanted them to go and I’ve become fractious and my conversation has become terse and curt, and my wife has rebuked me for that by suggesting that I’m, “…not being very friendly”, but never, ever have I considered attacking a houseguest with a bag of stones and excrement. This would be the level of friendliness you could expect if your enemy’s enemy was Uday Hussein. On the Hitlerian scale of unfriendliness (which, having just thought of it, I’m going to begin work on right now), this will rate quite high.

2. It’s Mind-Boggling. What do you hope to accomplish by attacking a train with a bag of stones and excrement? If we consider it as an act of vandalism, I can understand the use of stones*. But excrement? Why would anyone do this? What is the point of this? It’s so mind-boggling that it defies both rational and irrational explanation (which is a shame, as that’s one of my “gifts”). My mind is officially boggled.

3. It Serves No Purpose. While, in major cities across the nation, there are people committing antisocial acts for personal gain and ending up owning iPhones and Tesco Value Basmati Rice, what happens in Yorkshire? A train is attacked with a bag of stones and excrement. But it’s hard to see the benefit of covering a train in poo. While Londoners are sitting back and watching their new, free HDTVs (or HD ready if they nicked the wrong one) what does the perpetrator of this act gain? The satisfaction of having got poo on a train? You could just visit the restaurant car for that sensation. There is no rational motive.

4. It Causes Temporary Homelessness. When I saw the headline Vandals attack train with bag of stones and excrement yesterday, I have to say that it caused me to laugh. Rather a lot. In fact, I laughed so long and so hard that I woke my wife from her afternoon nap and she banished my son and I from the house. It was raining so we had to go to the pub. This is not a complaint, by the way, it’s an observation.

5. Seriously, It’s More Mind-Boggling. PC Gary Shepherd of the British Transport Police said: “A lot of planning must have gone into this…”. He’s right. Where do you get a bag of excrement from? Is it something that the culprit found lying around? Did they have to shit into a bag for several weeks until they had enough? Did he** solicit the help of friends and family? Did he offer to buy the poo from strangers? Did he steal the poo from somewhere? Outside of a blaxploitation flick, where the hell do you get a bag of shit from?

6. Frustratingly, It Hints At Greatness. What begets greatness? Usually a fusion of innovation and endeavour. No one can deny that attacking a train with a bag of stones and excrement is innovative: Infinite monkey theorem suggests that, “a monkey hitting keys at random on a typewriter keyboard for an infinite amount of time will almost surely type a given text, such as the complete works of William Shakespeare”, but could a monkey with a bag and some stones living near a railway line ever conceive of this act? I think not. It also shows dedication. Not only was the bag meticulously rigged, but the act of gathering (or producing and collecting) all that poo shows dedication, self-motivation and commitment to the cause. This person could probably produce work of greatness and real cultural and social worth. If they weren’t a vile and abhorrent weirdo that gets their jollies by spattering trains with a cocktail of turds, that is.

7. What If You Get Caught? It’s an oft-repeated maxim that “if you can’t do the time, don’t do the crime.” But what is the time in this case? It’s a life sentence, because anyone being convicted for attacking a train with a bag of stones and excrement would surely receive a massive amount of publicity. International publicity. Every last person in the world would know who this person was, and there’s only one nickname that would be bestowed on him. Shitbag. People will point in the street and shout “Shitbag”. People in the pub will greet him by saying, “Evening, Shitbag”. It will become so ingrained that his family will probably address him as Shitbag: “Can you pass the gravy, Shitbag?” “Don’t forget it’s the PTA meeting this evening, Shitbag.” “Oooh, look into my eyes and tell me I’m your little panda-bear again, Shitbag.” That’s a proper life sentence. Shitbag.

*I can’t really, it’s just a lot more conventional.

**It’s a he. While I’m a firm believer in equality, this is too weird for a woman to be involved in.

August 11, 2011
Guest Post: 7 Reasons My Experience With Northern Rail Was Shocking

Okay. This has never happened before, and it may never happen again but today, we’re bringing you a guest post on a Tuesday. This is not because we’ve decided we can’t be bothered writing something ourselves, or that we can’t get enough material from the world not ending. We could possibly write about that for a week. We’re posting this today because well, frankly, a friend of one of the 7 Reasons team has just been through a ghastly and iniquitous experience at the hands of Northern Rail and fortunately – as a former journalist – he was in a great position to write it up for us. We have, in the parlance of his former trade, a scoop. So here’s indie-popster, former-journalist, father, husband-to-be and public relations man Conrad Astley to tell his tale of woe. This should be a cautionary tale to us all. Take it away, Con.

When it comes to writing that autobiography, everyone needs their chapter about standing up for truth and justice. Their tale about sticking it to The Man. Their clammy-palmed, seat-of-the-pants courtroom drama.

Well, here’s mine. And it was all about fifty pence.

1. Yes, You Read That Right. 50p. Enough money to buy a packet of chewing gum, a bag of crisps, maybe a chocolate bar if you stick to the cheaper brands. Enough to buy roughly one seventh of a pint if you drink in tastefully lit venues full of attractive, fashionable people, or maybe a quarter of a pint if you prefer hostelries that smell of dog hair and failure. Yet for some reason, Northern Rail – one of the country’s biggest train companies who operate services from Carlisle to Crewe – insisted this sum was worthy of a criminal court’s time.

2. This Went On For A Long Time. The story started last June, when I was making a return journey from Hyde to Manchester Piccadilly and mistakenly bought the wrong ticket. Yes, for readers outside Greater Manchester, that is Hyde of Harold Shipman fame. For reasons far too tedious to go into here, I was travelling into the city centre from one station, with the intention of returning to another several hundred yards away.

3. I Made A Mistake, But In Good Faith. As the two stations were so close, I thought both journeys cost the same amount, so for the sake of convenience I bought a return ticket from the station I was returning to. It turned out I was wrong, and the difference between the two journeys was in fact 50p. A Northern Rail official brought me to one side, took my name and address and, despite the tiny amount involved, told me in no uncertain terms that I had committed a criminal offence which carried a maximum fine of £1,000.

4. I Tried To Make Amends. I tried explaining that this was an honest mistake and offered to pay a fixed penalty notice – once in person to the official and twice in writing – and even sent them a letter of complaint as a shot across the bow. What happened next can only be described as strange. I received a letter of apology from Northern – admittedly for the fact they had not initially replied to my complaint rather than for the incident itself – along with a free one-day travel voucher. I assumed the whole incident had been forgotten about. After all, nobody would prosecute someone they’d apologised to in writing, would they?

5. Suddenly... It turns out they would. Fast forward to the first week of the new year, and a court summons landed on my doormat, accompanied by a list of witness statements and a sheet explaining that I was being prosecuted under legislation dating back to the great Victorian age of steam. Was I going to be transported to the colonies? Not quite, but somewhat disturbingly, it did state I could – technically – be sent to prison for up to three months.*

Of course, I didn’t need to worry and this was no big deal. In fact, the first few legal people I spoke to said the best thing to do would be to plead guilty and go all out with the mitigation.

After all, the worst I’d be likely to get was a conditional discharge, as well as having to pay Northern’s £100 costs. And with a full time job, a young child and a wedding coming up, I didn’t need the hassle of going through a trial.

6. But It Was Wrong. But on the other hand, doing this would mean getting a criminal record, which – no matter how small the offence – I’d have had to declare whenever I applied for a job, took out an insurance policy, or went on holiday to America. Was that worth it for 50p? Some niggling thing deep down inside said I needed to fight this.

Now, if there ever was an advert for joining a trade union, this is it. I contacted the good people on Unison (my trade union)’s legal advice line who told me that, as the train journey had been to get me into work, this was technically employment-related and that they’d pay for my representation.

They also advised me to plead not guilty and even got me a barrister. This was getting serious.

The case was finally heard on 16 May, three court hearings, 11 months, countless meetings and phone calls to lawyers, and a great deal of stress later.

7. They Came Out With A Lovely Line. In order to win the case, Northern needed to prove three things: that I was travelling on the train on that day, that I had bought the ticket in question, and – beyond all reasonable doubt – that I had intentionally set out to defraud them. The prosecution said that if everyone used the railway defrauded them of fifty pence every day, the rail companies would lose a huge amount. I can’t remember the exact amount quoted, but I do remember feeling very concerned for the shareholders. But, as my defence barrister pointed out in his closing statement, if my intention had been to defraud anyone, I might not have chosen a station a few hundred yards away from the one where I’d embarked. Perhaps the true fraudster might have gone for one of the three other stations closer into Manchester, which would of course have carried smaller fares. This might have been the clincher, as the magistrates eventually found me not guilty.

If a single ounce of common sense had been applied to the situation, it would never have gone anywhere near a court, and I would not like to estimate how much this little episode cost the taxpayer.

As a regular passenger, I pay Northern Rail the best part of a grand a year for what is frankly a shoddy service. It’s good to know where their priorities lie.

*The 7 Reasons team added that asterisk: A young child could have been deprived of her father for three months which would surely have hampered her development, for nothing. For absolutely no reason. Shame on you, Northern Rail. Shame on you.

May 24, 2011
7 Reasons to Leave Your Car at Home

It’s World Car-Free Day today. And to celebrate, here are seven reasons to leave your car at home.

1. It’s Healthier. Rather than driving to work, and getting stressed and aggravated at the wheel of a car on the way, you can cycle instead. It’s much better for you, and you won’t just be sitting there, impotently experiencing road rage, so you’ll feel really good and be a lot healthier as a result. Well, until you get run over by a minicab and offered a fight by a disproportionately cross man in a white pick-up truck, that is. But that doesn’t happen every day. Some days it’s a blue one.

2. There Are Buses Available. In order to reduce the traffic on the road and free it up to make more room for areas that are coned-off for no apparent reason, you can take the bus to work. Because it’s always fun to ride in a vehicle in which the driver treats the accelerator as an on/off button, and in which anyone sitting on the upper deck is likely to experience motion sickness from the swaying as it rounds corners at improbable speeds. Not to mention the persistent nagging doubt that the bus will topple over. That’s where the real terror lies. Still, fear of death is life-affirming, so you’ll feel better as a result.

3. The Environment. Cars produce a lot of pollution*, and anyone that’s ever walked along the pavement next to a queue of traffic in the morning will be able to testify to the amount of noise-pollution that they emit. From the teenagers in the Vauxhall Corsa playing neurofunk at stomach-churning levels to the grey-faced businessmen listening to BBC Radio 4 at such a volume that, though you try not to listen, you can actually feel the shipping forecast reverberating through your skeleton as you walk past, traffic is intrusively noisy. But don’t panic. Though you may feel faint through sheer boredom on hearing the shipping forecast, it won’t actually kill you. Unless you concentrate on it quite hard.

4. The Train. You may be able to get the train to work. This will help you gain a new perspective on time and, as you realise that time, in fact, does not exist, and is just a series of made up numbers wholly unrelated to maths or the concept of measurement, you’ll relax and eventually come to enjoy starting your working day at lunchtime. Or 08:57, as First Capital Connect call it.

5. Parking Vouchers. Because you’ve paid for that parking permit, damn it. And every minute that your car is parked on the street outside your house you’re getting value for money. And eventually, if your car is parked outside your house for long enough, you’ll begin to turn a profit. Surely?

6. The Tube. Perhaps you live near an underground railway. And there’s no experience like getting together with a few thousand other people in a tin can and all trying not to look at each other (or at each other’s reflections in the window, that’s an amateur mistake). Ever wanted to know what you’d smell like if you didn’t bathe for a week? Go and stand next to a fat man in a cheap suit on a tube train. Then go home and shower. For a long time.

7. Because It’s A Good Idea. It’s actually a good idea to leave your car at home occasionally. Even if it turns out that the car is the most effective mode of transport for you, you’ll at least have explored the alternatives available. And if it isn’t, then you’ll have learned something valuable. Like discovering that bananas are easier to eat than apples, or that you enjoy eating gorgonzola more that you enjoy eating paté, or that kiwis give you more energy than a Mars bar. Or that you’re much hungrier than you thought you were.

*There are loads of car-pollution statistics available here.

September 22, 2010
7 Reasons That This Sign Could Be Better

1. What’s Missing? I saw this sign on a First Capital Connect train yesterday. What do you notice about it? Or, more specifically, what do you notice about the person depicted on the sign? That’s right, First Capital Connect, you have a sign asking people without feet to keep their feet off the seats. You might as well have put this sign up.

2. It’s Not Very Interesting. But if you’re going to ask people to keep something that they don’t have off seats, then feet don’t really have enough appeal. Football has mass-market appeal and advertisers often use it to get their message across. How about this?

3. Some People Don’t Like Football Though. So you can always try a more fanciful approach.

4. Your. Given that the person depicted has no feet you, rightly, don’t use the word your, as you aren’t asking them to keep their feet off the seats; you’re asking them to keep feet in general off the seats, presumably in case any footless passengers travelling on your train are carrying bags of feet, which are probably quite heavy and burdensome. In which case, this sign would be better. This sign would also let people know that putting bags containing items other than feet on seats is also unacceptable, thus serving a practical dual purpose.

5. Targetting. It’s not clear which footless demographic the sign is aimed at. After all, if these footless people are old enough to travel by train, but are still so ignorant that they need to be told not to put their feet on the seats, then the chances are that they won’t know why it is wrong. This sign spells out the consequences to them.

6. Or Be Less Subtle. Or you can try the putting the fear of god into them by letting them know that if they put their feet on the seats then they will be shot by a man without a lower-body. That should get their attention. Can you implement a foot response unit?

7. Feet. Or you could just have thought about what you were doing in the first place and engaged someone competent to do your signage. I’d like to tell you that your stupid sign ruined my journey, but it didn’t. The late-running of the train did that.

August 24, 2010
Guest Post:7 Reasons That Travelling By Sleeper Is Great

In the final instalment of 7 Reasons Transport Week, regular guest poster Simon Best, brings a touch of old school glamour to proceedings by travelling on a sleeper train.

1 Novelty. Part of the fun of travelling by sleeper is its novelty. There are only four sleeper services in the whole of the United Kingdom, but it wouldn’t be as much fun if you did it every day. Just imagine if your daily commute involved getting a sleeper to and from work (and no falling asleep on the train from Luton to St Pancras doesn’t count). If this was the case you would, essentially, be living on a train. Now I can think of worse places to live – France, for example or Slough – but that’s irrelevant, the main point is…

2. History. Boarding a sleeper is a bit like stepping back in time; even the name sounds like something from a 1930s Agatha Christie novel and it put me in mind of WH Auden’s poem ‘The Night Mail’, with its talk of cheques and postal orders (and that even rarer object the letter). I personally haven’t received or written a cheque all year and I think the last postal order was sent in about 1973. There is no longer a night mail train; now your Amazon orders or the clock you bought on Ebay are delivered by plane. The sleeper is still running. Travelling by sleeper is great because it is historic.

3. VIP Treatment. Normally catching a train is a stressful business. You have to wait on the concourse until the platform is announced – usually two minutes before you’re due to leave – and then it’s changed two minutes after you should have left causing you to either: a) miss the train b) knock an old lady over with your briefcase or c) strain a muscle hurling your suitcase into your carriage. This is not the case with the sleeper. It is always in the station an hour before it is due to leave. You’re greeted by your sleeping car attendant, welcomed by name when you show your ticket (you don’t get that on the 7:42 to Charing Cross do you?), you’re asked what you’d like for breakfast, when you’d like it, and shown to your cabin. In short, you’re treated like Michael Winner being escorted to the first class cabin on Concorde. Travelling by sleeper is great because you’re given VIP treatment.

4. Your Cabin. Once on board you make your way to your cabin, stow your luggage (there is no other train in the world on which you ‘stow’ your luggage you just stick it in a luggage rack and hope someone doesn’t put a huge suitcase on the top). You then proceed to play with all the gadgets, play around with the bed, open the little shelf next to the bunk, climb up to the top bunk and sit there, lift the cover to the wash basin, press the taps, open the blind, and close it again. Twice. Turn the three different lights on and off several times and adjust the temperature slider seeing just how hot or cold you can make it and like the controls on a shower then spend ten minutes getting it just right, which is invariably the setting it was on to start with. Travelling by sleeper is great because your cabin has more gadgets than the TARDIS.

5. The Lounge Car. Once you’ve become bored fiddling with the temperature and switching the light on and off, you’ll doubtless leave your cabin and stroll down the train to the lounge car. Here you can relax on a sofa and order a gin and tonic from the bar (well that’s what I’m having, what would you like to drink?). The lounge car even stays open all night but you can only get booze until one am because, as the stewardess said, “this is a train, nae a nightclub” (who would want a nightclub on wheels anyway). On American sleeper trains lounge cars even have observation decks, with clear roofs so that you can look out at the scenery as you travel along. They also go one stage further and provide actual in-train entertainment, showing films. I was once stuck on a non-moving train in the middle of the desert in Texas. When we’d been staring at the desert for three hours I got quite excited at the announcement that they were showing a film. They showed My Dog Skip. I should have kept staring at the desert. However the actual film is irrelevant. Travelling by sleeper is great because there is a lounge car.

6. Breakfast. Having chosen your morning beverage, ordered your breakfast and arranged your wake-up call when you board the train, you’re gently roused by the sleeping car attendant at the appointed time, with your breakfast which you can then eat in bed while the train rolls sedately through the countryside. Just be careful not to flash your nightwear at a flock of sheep. I love having breakfast in bed, except for the crumbs that you have to clear up afterwards. Travelling by sleeper is great because you get breakfast in bed with a view, and you don’t have to clear up afterwards.

7. Efficiency. We all like things that save us time. Think of all the labour saving devices we have in our homes: washing machines, computers, vacuum cleaners, electric carving knives (actually forget that last one). The sleeper allows you to go to bed in London and wake up next to Ben Nevis (or if you’re feeling more adventurous go to bed in Berlin and wake up in Warsaw). This makes it one of the most efficient modes of transport, as it allows you to travel a long distance and sleep at the same time. Something that is not advised if you’re driving a car or riding a bike.

August 21, 2010
7 Reasons Not To Write On The Train

As a part of 7 Reasons Travel Week, we have decided to try something new. Rather than writing this piece in a conventional location; a quiet atmosphere of consideration and reflection – or in the pub – it’s going to be written on the train during a journey from York to Kings Cross. We like to think of it as a bold experiment into guerrilla style blogging, because that sounds more interesting than a man typing on a train. Anyway, the guard has blown his whistle (or I’m having another acid house flashback) and we’re off. Here are seven reasons not to write on the train.

Space…The Lack Of

1. It’s Tight. No, not my prose style, my deadline – or even my trousers – I’m referring to the amount of room that I have at the moment. I’m 6’2”. The tiny seat that I am crammed into has sufficient legroom for an eight year old child (a small one). My back is planted firmly into the back of my seat and my knees are jammed right up against the hard back of the seat in front of me, just under the “table”. I’ve only been seated for ten minutes and I’m already in pain. Balanced on the teeny-weeny-tiny “table” in front of me is my very small netbook, a bottle of water, a pen, a notebook with a picture of a skateboarder on it (how cool am I?) and a pair of sunglasses. The sunglasses aren’t meant to be on the “table”, they just keep being shaken from their resting place on top of my head. They – for some reason – always land on the f key. Anyway, ocular accoutrements aside, it is all essential writing gear on the “table” (well, I say on the “table”, I keep having to retrieve a lot of it from the floor). This is because of…

2. The Shaking. The shaking of the train is making typing difficult, to say the least. It causes me to accidentally touch the trackpad quite a lot, which makes the text I am typing suddenly begin to appear in the middle of a line I don’t want it to be on. So if what you’re reading seems somewhat confused and incoherent, it’s because of the shaking and not, as is usually the case, because I’m confused and incoherent. Jfmklsdjlggfkgnfk;gnf.g (My apologies, that was my bottle of water leaping from the table and landing on the keyboard. That happens quite frequently).

My webcam captures the moment the flying bottle makes another guest appearance

3. The Mysterious Burning Smell. Oh yes, we have one of those. It smells like an electrical fire. I first noticed it shortly before the train ground to a halt in the middle of the countryside near Leeds. Am I about to die in an inferno? Where is the nearest door? Why don’t the hammers next to the windows resemble hammers? Is that a field full of cows that we’ll have to escape into? Why didn’t I finish that packet of Hob-Nobs before we left the house? I’m beginning to realise that my imminent death isn’t conducive to concentration.

4. The “WiFi”. The East Coast Mainline WiFi network is slower than the train itself. In fact, it’s slower than me alighting from the train, going to the pub for a bit, growing a beard, taking a course in both basic and advanced basket-weaving, and then walking to Google’s office in California to get a printout of the web page that I now wish to view. I keep checking back every five minutes or so, to see if my web page has loaded but no, it hasn’t. And I may need to read that page on how to avoid being eaten by a cow as a matter of some urgency.

5. The Woman Next To Me. The woman sitting next to me, despite being approximately a foot shorter than I am, keeps complaining about the lack of legroom. She also keeps staring at my screen, which is very off-putting. She continually encroaches into my armrest territory, and when the train jars or shakes, her pointy elbow digs into my left arm and my ribs. It serves me right for marrying a woman with sharp elbows, I suppose. The woman next to me is now pulling a face.

6. Announcements. I’m being annoyed by the PA system and it’s causing me to become distracted and lurch into epistolary instead of writing properly.

Dear PA System,

I have heard the announcements now, and I understand them, thank you. I couldn’t be more aware of the location of the buffet car, the name of the train manager, or the myriad ticket restrictions that apply to my journey. I have now decided, as a consequence of the many announcements I have heard, that I will be taking my personal belongings with me when I leave the train. Obviously, without your help, I would have abandoned all of my stuff and wandered off the train naked to begin a new life unencumbered by material possessions and socks. Thank you very much for sparing me from this alternate and possibly quite chilly future. Yours sincerely,

Passenger 12 (facing). Coach C.

7. The Time. We’ve been on the train for two hours and we’re arriving at King’s Cross already. That’s not enough time to write anything. Where’s my delay? Bastards!

August 20, 2010
7 Reasons A Cow On The Line Is Not So Bad

I got stuck behind a cow yesterday. This is my story.

1. Reflect…on the countryside and the beauty of it all. The greens and the yellows and the reds and the blues that you always take for granted. The only thing missing is the black and the white. Because it’s on the bloody line in front of you.

2. Relax…a cow on the line is fairly harmless. Unless it’s two terrorists on the way to pantomime. You should be thankful that it’s only a cow. It could have been Aliens. Or a Polar Bear. Or Von Ryan’s Express. Or Kerry Katona.

3. Reminisce…about the good times. A time when 3G didn’t exist and so you never got stuck in a train in an area lacking 3G. Remember how you never used to switch your phone off and on to see if that helped. Or held it above your head. Or below your legs. Or below the legs of the person in front of you.

4. Reacquaint…yourself with good music. Whatever is on your iPod at the time. Edison Lighthouse for example. Within thirteen repetitions of Love Grows (Where My Rosemary* Goes) you’ll be moving again. And people will be wondering what’s making that strange humming noise.

5. Rejoice…at the thought that those waiting to collect you from the station will not want to hang around in the station car park for an extra half-an-hour. They’ll go for a drive and see a Sainsburys and go in and buy Pork Pies. Which you’ll eat for lunch.

6. Reaffirm…how proud you are with yourself. It’s hard sitting on a train for 30 minutes longer than planned. Your stomach starts rumbling and the mad-Welsh woman keeps bragging about how good her buffet service is. You can resist that bacon sandwich. You can hang on until lunch. And you feel so much better for it. You feel like a better person. If a cow hadn’t got on the line and you’d have arrived at your destination on time, you’d still be lamenting the fact that you always end up sitting next to a fat person.**

7. Reason…that an hour after starting, ‘7 Reasons To Be Polite To Inanimate Objects’, it’s looking no better than when the idea formed in your head. There must be something else to write about.

*For obvious reasons (one of them, not seven), when I am singing this, I don’t use the name Rosemary. I use Jonathan.

**I’m not fattist. If people want to be fat in their own homes, then that is up to then. But when you are on the train you shouldn’t be so fat that you cause me to have an intimate relationship with the window.

July 22, 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 MPs Should Travel First Class

1. The Importance Of Being Important. Most people like feeling important. It gives them an enormous sense of wellbeing. (Thanks to Damon Albarn for that insight). When you feel important, you feel proud. When you feel proud you take pride in what you do. Generally it means you do something well for once. Just think, if we got 75% of all MPs in first class, Great Britain would be 75% better. Believe it.

2. Forget Forgetfulness. Working in first class means you have more space. It means you don’t feel overcrowded or have the sensation that everyone is looking over your shoulder. In this relaxed state of mind you are unlikely to be flustered when you realise you have already pulled into the station. In turn it means you are unlikely to leave important documents on the train. Like the names, addresses and shoe sizes of all your friendly neighbourhood swinging couples.

3. The Art Of Complaining. These days the British like complaining. It is a fairly new phenomenon. Usually such pathetic behaviour was left to the French, while those in this country sucked it up and displayed their stiff upper lip. But for one reason or another those days are fast dissipating and now there is nothing a Brit likes more than a good old moan. Particularly if it is about an MP. Letting MPs travel first class gives us stuff to talk about in the pub, listen to on the radio, watch on Question Time and write about on websites.

4. The Art Of Moaning. MPs, being British themselves, also like to moan. Moaning about having to pay back expenses or moaning about the lack of fresh water crabs in their moat or moaning about Gordon Brown moaning about David Cameron moaning about Labour moaning about the Conservatives. Quite frankly I am bored of it. The Winter Olympics are on and all I can think about is how cool it would be to put Harriet Harman in a bobsleigh. If we force MPs to travel standard class we will hear moaning about not having the correct environment to work in. I don’t want to hear that. It reeks of an excuse. Stick them in first class and they no longer have an excuse for doing a sub-standard job.

5. News Of The Country. Newspapers are free in first class. Perhaps this will encourage one or two of them to read one and find out what is actually happening in this country. Then perhaps one of the two would like to do something about it instead of just talking about it.

6. Strangers On A Train. If the MPs are up at the front of the train, it means there is an empty seat in front of you. Who knows who might join you on your trip to Reading. Maybe a splendidly pretty young thing who doesn’t use text speak? Or maybe a female Canadian Mountie? Or maybe both? Not that either of us would even think about looking at them. We’d be far more interested in cows rushing by our window.

7. Fight Club. No MPs with all us ‘different type of people’ down in carriage D, means it will remain the quiet carriage. That has to be a good thing. For First Great Western.

February 19, 2010