Having just spent £3984 on a travelcard (saving of £120 because I cleverly bought it 'last year'- two days ago, before the price hike) I am here to record my experience, as a commuter, to evaluate the value of our public transport rail service.
Not that I have much of a choice- there's no competitors for South West trains on the lines, and driving/ flying/ swimming is simply not an option for myself, rendering their monopoly on my personal commute from Guildford to London (including Zones 1-6) absolute.
Much of the following is likely to consist of general gripes, not just about the service provision but it's likely to also include general observations (likely negative) about commuters themselves. Just to warn you- I can be extremely irritable and grumpy. Especially on the 5.50am Guildford-Waterloo. Though mainly on the 6.24am.
The creation of what may be comparable to an expanded version of Reginald Perrin is as an alternative to bitching on facebook, which has become an avenue for venting many frustrations, but who really wishes to read about my daily commute. Every day. I do not recall a day since my commute began (in March 2013) when I haven't had something to complain about, in true British persona.
I do not expect anyone to read this. If you are- I don't know how you found it- you must be either an internet genius, or very, very bored (if not- just wait. You may refer to the blog for assistance in reaching stage 2 of your nightly REM). It is more a platform to vent my own frustrations, in order for me to (hopefully) become a more pleasant human as I will not longer require a fifteen minute daily rant to my nearest and dearest.
And so I shall begin....
Day 1- Thursday 2nd January 2014- MORNING
The 1.8 mile walk from my flat to the station seemed long and cold this morning, made longer (and more intimidating) by the lack of lighting. On the plus side, my own shadow didn't make me jump this morning (often happens when crossing the blue-lit Wooden Bridge, where lights intermingle forcing my shadow to creep up from behind me whilst also being displayed in front- never failing to make me believe it's a stranger coming speedily up behind me). This morning, there actually was a real solid person coming up behind me on the wooden bridge, making me jump as he overtook me on the steps down.
Dodging puddles the remainder of the walk put pressure on my swollen foot (UDI New Years Eve injury- no current explanation.)
Arriving on the platform at 6.09am I settled into my current 'novel'- a Lynda La Plant thriller, acceptable but not gripping.
Train arrives at 6.22am (yey- no delay and back to the normal time, rather than the earlier 6.15am they've been forcing me into over the festive period), however I am a seasoned commuter who takes my 'spot' on the train station, knowing exactly where it stops to ensure the door is opened in front of me, at the back of the train. I carefully awaited confirmation from the board that it was definitely still a five coach train (so I didn't need to walk further up the platform), yet, and here's my main gripe for this morning, the train driver didn't stop where he was supposed to. This lead to myself and the other seven commuters having to leg it up the platform to where the train carriages had finally rested. Inevitably the mad crush for the final carriage (caused by several 'places' of people being done out of the their usual entry point being rammed up to the one carriage) forced me into the next along. I, fortunately, got a seat, but not a prime placement- having to settle for the corner left next to the window of a three-facing-three plan. Fortunately it was forward facing (something still unnerves me about travelling backwards) however the suit opposite decided his feet and knees were far too superior for the cramped space provided by South West Trains, thus proceeded to almost touch my seat with his legs, forcing my feet to have to be tucked right under the seat, next to the heater (which was miraculously on for several minutes prior to the air conditioning being turned on. Seriously.).
I promptly closed my eyes before even reaching Worplesdon, though the over-head tannoy system was unusually loud, denying my morning-snooze to fully engulf my being until mid-way between Woking and Clapham Juntion.
Note to train guards: Please note; we don't need updating on why the train has stopped (at a red light) when the delay caused is only two minutes. All you achieve is waking us or disturbing us whilst reading. Thank you.
Arrived at waterloo three minutes before schedule (despite the red-light waiting incident) and continued (with care, due to the poorly foot) onto the Northern line to get to Warren Street. Missed the underground by seconds- got there as the doors were closing (I'm a big believer in NEVER rushing onto trains or tubes in such circumstances- at best you look like a fool, and mid- you delay every other person on the underground (which is highly selfish un un-utilitarian of you) and at worst...well, doesn't bear thinking about).
Had to wait two minutes.
Dropped my book on the platform- butter fingers.
Got to warren street with no further issues.
Was cold walking from Tube to office.
And that completes my first entry- the morning commute.
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