Trains

Not that I mean to sound like some kind of anorak-wearing enthusiast, but I do like trains. There is something so romantic about them. When I take the train, I can almost imagine I am a fur and pearl clad woman in an Agatha Cristie novel; that the person who has reserved the seat opposite will almost definitely be Poirot, who will be instantly charmed by my innocent yet witty manner and rescue me from a terrifyingly dashing, moustached murderer. Ah, the glamour...
In reality of course, this doesn't happen. The reasons being:
1. Poirot almost certainly would never travel third class.
2. Although I do have a beautiful pearl necklace, I look rather like a fuzzy pom-pom in a fur coat, and Poirot would probably mistake me for a small bear or a cushion if I was to wear one.
3. Virgin Trains and the rest are no Orient Express. You are more likely to come across a paper cup of lukewarm instant coffee than a gin and tonic. And more likely to have a drunk Everton fan fall asleep on you shoulder and knock his Carling on your copy of Murder on the Orient Express than encounter a charming Belgian detective.
Nonetheless, I live in hope and still enjoy flying through the glorious countryside and spying people's back gardens on the way.
But then there are days when the rail network fails you, like that time my train stopped for 5 hours somewhere outside Rugby and my friend's bag got stolen while she when to get her Sorry-We've-Made-You-Late complimentary coffee.
Today was not that disastrous but I did get stranded in Crewe briefly because the track was flooded.
My annoyances are two-fold. First, we live in a country where it rains for a third of the year. If you think of the UK, it is probably raining. Why have we not got trains that can deal with this problem?
Second, and more importantly, Crewe is no Monte Carlo or Venice. It may be one of the least inspiring places I've ever been. Being stranded somewhere a little more elegant would be so much better. But the weather and British town planning are against me.
So today I was stuck. I had narrowly missed missing the train in the first place: jumping on board with about 30 seconds to spare. I was so pleased with myself for avoiding being late for work, only to be shot down by flooding.
At Crewe though, I did meet some marvellous people. Not Hercule but the first was a modern day Hercules/hero of sorts. While the rest of us grumbled about the lack of bus replacements, the weather, the lack of information from the guards, Amy Childs's existence...our man was calling the train line, organising buses, dividing us into different destination groups, being generally efficient and cheerful. I think I fancy him a little.
My other new friend was an 86 year old man who sat next to me on the finally appearing bus and told me (in thick Welsh accent) "Girl, you'll go far." Hurrah! Always a nice thing to hear. He told me his life story, all about his finances and the importance of saving. We discussed how nice Marks and Spencer's food is and what a bargain his coat was. He assured me that even though he could afford to leave £10,000 each to 4 charities in his will (quite the philanthropist) he still always caught the bus. "Of course," I said, "May as well use your bus pass." He chuckled and elbowed me for my cheek. What an old flirt, but we were like BFFs by the time we reached Chester.
And THAT is what is good about trains, delays, and adverse weather: talking to interesting people, hearing some stories, getting some good advice. The people you meet may or may not be not be suave or exotic or geniuses, but they are probably quite funny (intentionally or not) and its probably worth breaking the ice and having a cup of tea together. Or a gin and tonic. It will certainly speed the journey up.