mostly david ephgrave

I had a follow-up appointment about my ongoing vertigo in London this morning, which meant braving the Chris Grayling-led shitstorm of a national rail service with its supposedly newly phased-in timetable, which I’ve included a scan of below, in case you’re unfamiliar with the changes. The image is there, I promise. The new timetable’s very bold and must be saving money across the board. If I’d been given the task of streamlining the UK’s railway network, I don’t think I’d have had the temerity to remove the actual trains from the equation; it’s a stroke of genius akin to bringing Britain’s more stringent fire safety requirements into force post-Grenfell by eliminating every building. The journey into town was spent sat cross-legged on the floor of the carriage, unable to move thanks to the woman who chose to stand in the barely perceptible space I’d left so people could squeeze past. Thankfully, I had a copy of Private Eye to keep me entertained, or I wouldn’t have...

I'm currently hurtling from Finsbury Park to Hitchin on my way back from a gig, but I can't get comfortable because THE TRAIN I'M ON IS NOTHING LIKE THE TRAINS THAT NORMALLY RUN THIS ROUTE .  I've been travelling from Herts to London on and off for twenty years, and in all that time, the journey has never been serviced by a train like this. It's the kind I'd expect to take from St Pancras to Brighton or from Vauxhall to Leatherhead; not from Finsbury Park to Hitchin (seasoned travellers of the South East will know what I mean). The colour-scheme and seat design is completely wrong, and the adjustable shelf in front of me isn't the right shape. I feel like I'm having the dullest outer-body experience ever: everything around me is wrong - and what I don’t get is no-one else seems fazed by this. Three paragraphs into this blog post and I’m safely home, but still shaken by my commuting experience. All the way back I was ...

Today is not the day to be lugging equipment into London, and yet here I am, lugging equipment into London.  Thankfully, I've not got as much gear as I've been carrying on my last couple of trips, as the place I'm playing tonight has a proper technical set-up. Despite this, I've still probably got more on me than is strictly necessary, just in case something doesn't work along the line To add to today's sweatbox situation, I'm currently on a train that's being held at Hitchin, due to a fire at King's Cross signal box, with no chance of us leaving until the signal box is restaffed. Thankfully, there's just the amount of aircon to save us from being cooked in our juices; frankly a relief, as we've already been here for twenty minutes.  I did a quick run of my show this afternoon to aid tonight's performance, though I did it at a friend's flat for a change of scenery, as I'm cat-sitting for them this week. The cat gave nothing aw...

I mentioned a few days ago, after using a blog-post as an excuse to collate my many tweets on the subject of buses, that I’d eventually do the same with the ones about trains. This was originally meant to be a joke, but the bus blog was so popular - forty-one views and counting - that I couldn’t ignore the interest.     So, here it is. If you like concise commentary about public transport, you’ve come to the right place. I derive far too much pleasure and satisfaction from being the first person off the train and through the ticket barrier. The man sat next to me on the train who sucked his fingers after finishing his crisps made me feel like I was party to it. Got to the station earlier than I needed to, so have taken the slow train as a 'treat'. Woman on the train, complaining that she "Hasn't had no time to wrap anything". I need graph paper to work out the double-negatives. The train driver j...

Yesterday, my train from Gatwick Airport to St Pancras was diverted due to a trespasser on the line. This wouldn’t have been notable if the driver hadn’t kept telling us we were being redirected via "Eleph -aren't & Castle". He must have said it fifteen times. Not eleph ant , but eleph- aren’t . His comic timing was excellent. Each sentence took a different route to its deliciously mispronounced punchline. I’d have understood it if English wasn’t his first language. It sounded like it was. Everything else was intoned in a broad cockney accent. Why was he giving one word unexpected airs and graces? I can only assume he’s never seen elephant written down outside of this context and hasn’t made the animal connection. Imagine his embarrassment when he does. Is that an Indian or African Eleph-aren’t?

Today's been another day of train journeys.  I'm currently on my way back from Milton Keynes; the sort of place that it's best to travel away from at speed. The weather outside my window is dreary. I'll be glad to get home.   We just passed through Leighton Buzzard . Sadly, there wasn't a single bird of prey in sight.   I had a casting in London at lunchtime, which went reasonably well. I then caught the tube to Euston, so I could take the first available train to the Land of Roundabouts to pick up my newly-repaired laptop.  When it died a couple of days ago, I was worried that I'd lost a lot of data. Most of my personal photographs weren't backed up; I didn't fancy having to recreate them all from scratch.     Thankfully, this hadn't happened, which was a relief. I'd like to profess my thanks to the God of Technology. Things nearly turned nasty a moment ago, when I trapped my little finger in the gap between the ...

I derive far too much pleasure and satisfaction from being the first person off of a train and through the ticket barrier. I consciously plan ahead for it. It's pathetic. I'll position myself in the optimum carriage (the second from the front for Hitchin; the first for King's Cross) and will be by the door with my ticket in my hand before we pull into the platform. I do this because: (1) I'm late, (2) it's late, or (3) because I'm a bit of a dick.  I'm never rude about it. I don't push and shove; I use subtlety and stealth to ensure I'm out first.   If alighting from public transport was an Olympic sport, I'd probably be a multiple gold medallist. 

I just had to practically dislocate both arms whilst climbing over another passenger on a packed train, because he refused to move into the empty seat next to him.  While every bone in my body was bent in inconceivable directions, every bone in his despised me for choosing to sit there. Not content with forcing a spot of commuter contortionism, he's now desperate to read what I'm writing. He keeps sneaking glances in my direction; trying to find a gap through my fingers that offers an unrestricted view to the screen of my BlackBerry.   I CAN SEE YOU LOOKING, MY FRIEND. I CAN SEE YOU LOOKING.   What is it with packed public transport that brings out the worst in society? I’m pretty sure that his bag didn't pay for a ticket.  The woman sitting opposite just gave me a little conspiratorial smile; she knows this man's game just like I do. It’s a shame that people resort to such selfishness when in public. I’ve lost count of the amount of times I’ve...