Humph. I got told this morning by my regular travelling companion on the 5.37am train from Whittlesford Parkway that I ought to have a session or two of cognitive behaviour therapy. I’m not entirely sure what he meant by this and I really wasn’t doing very much at all to merit any particular comment from him so early in the morning. We have basically agreed upon a comfortable silence at least until Tottenham Hale. I suppose he might have been reacting to the sound of me sighing as the tannoy in our carriage reverberated with an announcement which had just been repeated for the third time on our journey into town.
If you were in my shoes I’m quite sure it would irritate you too. I can recite the whole message verbatim. “You must have a valid ticket to travel on one of our trains. If you do not have a valid ticket you may be liable to a penalty fare.” How utterly banal and condescending don’t you agree?
This was not the first time I’d heard this. It has been going on now for about three months. In an early attempt to bring them to an end I emailed customer relations and was informed it was for the benefit of blind customers who were unable to read signs posted around the carriage bearing similar warnings. This struck me as ridiculous. What about people who are deaf and blind? I rang them and they briefly appeased me by saying they were planning to reduce the number of times they made announcement. Next, when it seemed to me that the recording was being played with even greater frequency I resumed my railing and engaged in a Twitter exchange with one of their team members who said it was not GreatAnglia’s fault, but was required of them in the terms of the franchise agreement awarded by the Department of Transport.
Well that was that…..talk about a nanny state…..and from a Conservative administration what’s more. I wrote a searing – though polite – letter to my MP. Coincidentally his reply was waiting for me when I got home on Wednesday evening after a particularly tortuous journey, over one hour late, having had to stand all the way to Bishops Stortford on the stopping train and listen to the hateful recording on no fewer than eight occasions.
This cheered me up a little I suppose. So yes, perhaps I do have a bee in my bonnet and maybe CBT is the answer, but I’m hoping my new best friend Matt comes up trumps before I sign up for the treatment. PS I’ve promised him two days of my time canvassing at the next General Election if he does.
Talking of one’s state of mind, people always say when you’ve come back from holiday the best thing for you is to immediately book the next one. So I’ve only gone and done it! A Ryanair flight to Carcassonne in a couple of weeks’ time for a long weekend catch up with Hen, her Galgos, Myrtile and her Daihatsu Jet van Mowgli which is parked illegally by a river somewhere in the wilds of Roussillon. Boy I feel good!
PPS A book recommendation for you: Cycling to the Ashes: A Cricketing Odyssey From London to Brisbane by Oli Broom.
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