( I come undone… http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s88r_q7oufE&ob=av2n )
The last couple of days in my life have been a little busy. As usual, there have been plenty of smiles, but not all of them ones that I’d like to tell you about in great detail. *wink, wink*
Today, I travelled back to York by train.
Back? Where from, you ask. Like I said, I am infuriatingly reluctant to share details sometimes. This is one of those times.
The train journey lasted roughly 1 hour and 15 minutes. I spent the entirety of that time curled up underneath one of the luggage shelves because there were no seats free and lots of people standing up in the aisles already, and it was beginning to irritate me immensely every time someone tried to move past me and I pretty much had to sit in the lap of/stick my arse in the face of the nearest seated person in order to let people past. Plus my legs were aching. So, after a few minutes of this madness, I moved on. A few more awkward minutes of standing by the carriage doors and I decided I simply couldn’t spend the remaining hour of the journey like that. I found the luggage compartment to be satisfyingly near-empty, so I settled in there.
The looks on people’s faces as they passed through were fantastic.
‘Love, there’s seats in that coach now’ — ‘Are you ok there? I’ve just left a seat, why don’t you go and sit in it?’ — ‘Can I get you anything from the snack trolley, sweetheart? There’s seats on the train now y’know’ — ‘Have you got a ticket? Can I see your railcard? There are seats free down there, now… No?’
All were politely responded to with a quiet ‘Oh no, I’m quite comfortable here now, thanks’, and a little smile to myself as they shuffled on in mild confusion, and I returned my headphones to my ears.
Call me weird, but I genuinely find sitting cross-legged/ leaning against carriage wall with knees against chest, far more comfortable than the standard posture demanded by train seats. I also prefer being where no other people are. I mean, other people’s luggage chillin’ around me, I can deal with. Oversized middle-aged men with flatulence problems and/or violent colds, and/or munching on disgusting food and/or reading giant newspapers under my nose, and/or absorbed in some sort of offensively important business on their laptop/iPad, casting me disapproving looks every time I shift slightly in the direction of their zone of seriousness, however…
Uhm, I digress.
(But really, is it just me who always finds that those kinds of people are the only ones who ever have empty seats next to them? The only time it hasn’t been an oversized middle-aged man, it was an oversized middle-aged woman cradling an excitable Jack Russell dog. I digress again).
This is not some kind of car-snob rant against public transport. Although, coming from the middle of nowhere I genuinely thought that, like, 5 people in the whole world or something, used trains. Only when I went to uni and started actually using them myself did I realise the truth; the world and his wife – and his dog, apparently – use trains. However, I personally have never had an experience with them that has been any better than a little traumatic. Maybe this is simply due to my being too easily traumatized. I really am at times.
Either way, I rebelled against the traumas today, which resulted in much amusement for myself and possibly (hopefully?) some amusement for the friendly fellow train folk who will likely never know just how comfy the floor of the luggage area is to a tired, tired cat.
I don’t want to leave you without a photo, so here is one of my dog and my cat sharing a bed:
Probably isn’t as adorable if they aren’t your Floyd and your Joey, but it was the best I could do without resorting to hijacking someone else’s photography skillz.