1. Ticket rules issued by National Rail are sporadic, unlogical and more frighteningly, unknown to National Rail's actual staff. This happened today on arrival at Liverpool Station's Ticket Office at 10:15am:
Cashier: 'Ello.
Me: Hi there! I have this ticket back to Ipswich for 1pm. My appointment this morning has cancelled and so I would like to head back before 1pm. Like, now. Is that possible? If I need to pay more to make up the difference, that's fine.
Cashier: Let me see what I will cost ya. Ah, it will be another £46.50.
Me: Christ. The original ticket was only £15. I'll wait it out. Bummer.
Cashier: Well, if you can wait until 12pm, you can get on that train.
Me: Really? And I don't have to pay anymore? Ok. That would be fine.
Cashier: Yeah, sure. You can get on the 12o'clock with this ticket.
Me: Groovy. Thanks a lot!
Cashier: Mmmmm.
I got on the 12pm train. I was getting home a little earlier than anticipated. All good.
The ticket officer came around and saw that my ticket had 1pm written on it and he got all eggy. I explained that the Liverpool St ticket officer said that it would be fine to embark on this train. I explained the conversation.
I had to purchase another ticket. I'm miffed and cheesed off. Not only have the London Underground *proper* effed me over yesterday - now I have to deal with a uniformed Nazi into a mini computer as well.
2. On a positive note, the stroll from St Pancras to Liverpool St this morning was most beautiful. It only took 7.5 hours and the sun was shining.
3. The variety of food-stuffs available at stations to a mere mortal like me is most mesmerising. I totally dig London Town. I just ate raw fish for breakfast followed by some cumin chicken soup all washed down with a hot chocolate.
4. I wonder what the toilets are like on this train. I feel most bloated and pressurised, like a gas canister, after eating all that revolting gone-off train station food.
5. Someone walked past my hotel bedroom window last night, I estimate around 4am, and declared, rather loudly: "I really need a poo".
6. What's the etiquette for crossing a road in London when the lights say "red man" but there's nothing coming to run you over?
7. What's the etiquette for crossing a road in London when the lights say "red man" but the traffic is all queued at the traffic lights and not actually moving?
8. What's the etiquette for helping women with pushchairs down the underground stairs?
9. That was a trick. I know the answer to No. 8. But 40people in St. Paul's do not.
10. I had an eye test today. First one ever. The dear optician was most sweet. She asked me to read the letters on the board. I pretended to do this with random letters that statistically had little chance of corresponding correctly with the letters that were actually on the board. Chance was not my friend; I obviously got them all wrong. I fessed to the nice optician that I didn't know what board she was actually on about and would she kindly point out where this said board is actually located.
11. I got a prescription for some glasses. I tried a few pairs on in the shop. They were most unbecoming and aren't my bag at all so I have to say that I not going to bother with this first world problem. As long as I can fasten my children's seat belts then that'll do.
12. The optician made me complete a health questionnaire. They always feel like a trick. No one else was completing one. I'm sure there is a calibration allowance on these types of assessments to accommodate people's truth slipping.
13. I'll get some specs at the weekend. I'm squinting like Rab C Nesbitt just typing this.
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