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my crazy weekend journey...I went to see my girlfriend this weekend. The third time in around 2 months, it was the first time I had seen her and we had fun (and didnt worry about the relationship ending). It was fun, she even took me out for a meal (I tried to do the manly thing and pay, but shes just too stubborn). But I had to leave at aroung 3 on sunday to go home - this is what happened on that fateful day!3pm - I left my girlfriends...After she left me to walked to go back, I walked on to the train station, the bulletin/departure board said there were no trains to Birmingham, so i went to the information office to ask for help. They told me I could go to kings cross (London) then from there get to Birmingham. so I went to the ticket information booth. They told me I would have to PAY to go to london, because my ticket didnt permit me to go.
Apathy is its own reward...
i hate that- if you have to go anywhere near London you have to pay through the nose- blooming southerners
PLAN CLAN MAN!!
He who makes a beast of himself gets rid of the pain of being a man- S. Johnson
I once had something vaguely similiar. A trip that was supposed to take six hours took eleven, to go three hundred miles. Coach from hatfield to heathrow. Hour and a half. Coach from Heathrow headed west toward Penzance breaks down after an hour or so and pulls into the first service station, the name of which i will never forget as long as I live, Membury.
Cue a four hour wait for a coach with enough spare seats to enable me to sit down. I find out this bloody coach isnt going to Plymouth, but to Bristol, which while in the right direction, takes two hours due to the now evening traffic. The next coach to plymouth is an hour later, which arrives and goes on without a hitch for the last two hours down to Plymouth.
****ers didnt even give me a refund for their **** service. If you can avoid it, dont go by National Express. They're ****ty, cramped as buggery and you're nearly guaranteed to wind up sat next to some crazy bint who wants to talk about knitting.
"It fits like clothes made out of wasps!"
One time when I was sat on a bus, an old SAS sniper sat next to me trying to show me his bulltet holes and how to kill a man with one finger.
I just wanted him to go away, he was freaky... I think I said around 5 words to him in the HOUR he sat next to me, he, however, wouldnt shut up.
I havent had a single train trip from Cambridge ACTUALLY go without a hitch. Going there is always fine... I think I'm cursed or something. I hate our trains...
Apathy is its own reward...