One woman has already missed her flat viewing as she can’t get there on time. Another one got grabbed by a client in the next carriage who detained her for a chat on the way to the buffet. The woman in the seat across the aisle from me said that some embryos needed to be ‘put back into the injection tube’ (whatever that means) as she wasn’t going to get there any time soon.
And neither am I. Anywhere. We’ve been sitting at Harold Wood for close to an hour now due to broken signals all the way along the line between Goodmayes and Ilford.
Meanwhile, I’m stuck here answering my emails (hallelujah mobile broadband) listening to the inane details of everyone else’s lives as they narrate them into their mobiles.
Perhaps I’ll make up something juicy and broadcast it to the carriage myself.
UPDATED: 12h19 and I’ve finally arrived at work, over two hours late. On the plus side, a woman two seats back and one to the side from me managed to get her car insurance sorted out after a long time on hold, and the woman in the seat in front of her applied for a new bank card, in the process telling everyone at our end of the coach her name, branch, account number, sort code and birthdate.
No related posts.
Tags: trains
