This weekend, T was in Leicester visiting her boyfriend. We arranged to meet up on Saturday, and I set about buying my train ticket online. I am registered with Trainline, but under an old email address that I can no longer access because it got hacked. I signed in, tried unsuccessfully to change my email address, and spent so long faffing about with it that I missed the train I had intended to catch. Mr C said that he would buy me a ticket using his App, and emailed me the e-ticket, only to realise that he hadn't unticked the 16-25 railcard box, so I had to start again. I signed up for a new Trainline account, using my current email address, and it was all looking good. I bought the train ticket, off peak so it wouldn't matter too much if I missed another train, and then activated it before we set off. I am always very suspicious of e-tickets, having missed the start of many films trying to use them unsuccessfully. But it was looking good, until I tried to activate the return journey ticket, only to find that there wasn't one. Because I hadn't ticked the return journey box. And I missed the next train, without even having left the house. Third time lucky, I made sure all of the right boxes were ticked and unticked, and got the return journey for the same price as a single. Although unfortunately a £13.70 return journey had cost us almost £37 because of our ineptitude. I would like to say that I will learn from my mistakes and never do that again - but Mr C who is a frequent train traveller makes the same mistakes every time, putting it down to the website being "counter-intuitive".
Kettering station is a 20 minute drive and we were still cutting it fine, despite having already missed two trains (and they only run once an hour). I jumped out of the car and into the station, and of course the train was just pulling into the station. And it was on the furthest platform. I ran (who even knew I still could) up the stairs, along the bridge and down the other side. There were lots of whistles and beeps and I headed towards a closed train door, motioning to a nearby guard, who was holding up a blank white Strictly score paddle (why?) to check if it was OK for me to get on, or was it too late? He ignored me completely, so I pressed the button to open the door, just as I spotted the 1st Class signs, but I was so desperate to get on, and thought if I moved down the platform to another carriage, the train might move off. Lots more beeps and whistles made me jump on the train, and I hoped that there wouldn't be a locked door between 1st Class and the rest of the carriages. It was fine, and I rushed down the 1st Class aisle, clutching at the handles on the back of the seats, expecting the train to set off at any moment and knock me off balance. Of course, it didn't move for another 5 minutes. The bells and whistles were presumably coming from the train on the other side of the platform. No wonder the guard ignored me.
The train was full, but I found a pull down seat in a corridor. It was only a short journey, but I had thought romantically that I would use the time writing. I had my BuJo with me, which is short for bullet journal. I saw one on Pinterest and thought they sounded fabulous. A Bujo is basically just a customised diary that you can use however you want. The ones on Pinterest are amazing - very creative with beautiful graphics and stickers, coloured charts and tick boxes. I read a post on how to set up your own and then realised that it is just a diary that you write your own dates in. But I like it anyway, even if mine is not beautiful like the Pinterest ones. I used it a lot in the Summer to write notes when I was doing research for my writing (or being nosey and people watching on the beach).
When I was at Uni in the early 90's I always travelled by train and it made me feel brave and adventurous and free spirited. I thought I would recapture some of that spirit on my 20 minute trip, and use it as inspiration for writing my BuJo. Unfortunately it was not to be - partly because I was sitting on a folding seat the size of a beer mat and using up my concentration on staying balanced, but mainly because, squeezed into the doorway with me were a party of youngish women wearing many layers of makeup and far too much leopardskin, drinking cans of cocktails through straws. With them were two gruff sounding men, wearing shiny jeans and no socks, who smelt like pubs used to smell. They were all talking over each other, bragging about how late they had gone to bed the night before and what drugs they had taken. I nodded and smiled knowingly (even though I had gone to bed when 'Winterwatch' finished) and looked out of the window and kept on trying not to fall onto the floor. During a lull in their shouting, Mr C called me on my mobile phone to check I had made it onto the train. Tattooed eyebrows were raised as my phone rang out "man's not hot". Google it if you don't know it. Download it as your ringtone if you have kids between the ages of 30 and 13. It is my weapon of choice in the battle of embarassing my kids. I like to remind them that I still have it, just before I show my piercings and tattoos to their friends. I am kidding, I don't show, just threaten that I might...
So, I made it to Leicester, T and her boyfriend were waiting for me, and I spent a few blissful hours with them before it was time to come home again. She just gets lovelier every time I see her, and it physically hurts me when I have to leave her. Apart from when she is home for long enough to mess up her bedroom, and then I am glad to see the back of her. But mostly, I miss her every day.
The train journey home was fine - I did manage to get my BuJo out, but I do find that people eye me suspiciously when I write in it, often straining to read what I have written. Which is unfortunate because it is usually about them.
And then after a lovely day, I went off to a 50th birthday party with some very funny, very drunk people. Sadly I cannot share my experiences because they are too blue. I was of course the sensible one, but even so, Sunday was a hard day to get through and I was in my PJs by 5pm.
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