The long road home…
I have unwittingly become party to a gigantic waste of my own time. I boarded a train at London Euston at 14:31 this afternoon. The train from London to my home town is supposed to take 55 minutes point-to-point. I am writing this now from Seat 4 of Coach D at 15:53 whilst travelling at speeds commonly made by first time unicyclists with acute vertigo, looking out at what should be a view of the various flora and fauna of the Midlands’ rich countryside, but what is actually the uninspiring dowdy face of South Ruslip Underground station in London’s outer belt.
It would appear that because of “crucial improvements to the west coast mainline” that Railtrack have been trying and failing to complete for the last eleven years, I and my various co-passengers are being sent down a line known to many as the hellish Chiltern Railways comfort destroyer to Birmingham line. This usually goes from London Marylebone to Snow Hill, but today it has been made even more excruciating by snail-pacing the distance across Greater London from Euston to High Wycombe at a mind bending 3mph.
If there is anybody walking in the direction of Princes Risboro that would like to find our train and have a nice leisurely conversation for a few hours, it would be lovely to see you.
I have nothing but time, believe me.