(no subject)

My train-fu remains weak.

I usually manage to get to King's Cross for the Foxton run with bare minutes to spare at best, or just in time to see the train pulling out of the station (quite usual). Yesterday, however, I made it 25 minutes early. Time enough, thought I, to get the ticket, a sarnie, and then meander around WH Smith in search of a copy of the Fortean Times.

So, credit card at the ready, I waited for the people in front of me to get their tickets from the machine (the instant tickets being far easier than queuing in the main foyer, provided you know where you are going). They went, I inserted credit card and punched in the details. The machine should, at this point deliver three pieces of card - two tickets, out and return, plus a receipt. It spat the outward ticket at me and promptly announced that the printer was buggered, and that I should go to the main foyer for the rest of the ticket as I had been charged for this transaction, thank you very much. It then shut down and started sulking.

Well, I was a bit put out by this, but I still had 20 minutes before my train, and 5 before the earlier, faster Cambridge train which I had noticed while waiting.

So, I queue up. I get to the front and, brandishing my half ticket explain the problem. They insist on being taken to see the broken machine. "It's broken" I am informed, lucky they were there; I hadn't figured that out. So back into the main foyer ticket hall. To the annoyance of people in the queue, I get to wait directly next to one of the tellers, who then begins the arcane ritual of giving me the second part of my ticket. This involves re-crediting my card with the cost of the journey, then charging me again. Then there is the ritual canceling of the ticket, which is hampered by the fact that her printer won't work. There is a theme running here, and time is ticking away.

Eventually I am presented with two new baroque tickets, suitable for framing, and I have five minutes to get to the other end of the station before my train leaves, or it's wait another hour or so.

There's just no point in getting to the station early. The Karma Pixies insist on the ritual, which involves blind panic and a great deal of racing about. Technology quails and falls in the face of their onslaught, as do I. I have learned my lesson; next time just get to the station in the nick of time with plans other than to catch the train at the last squeak.

It is the way of things, when your train-fu is weak.

(no subject)

My train-fu remains weak.

I usually manage to get to King's Cross for the Foxton run with bare minutes to spare at best, or just in time to see the train pulling out of the station (quite usual). Yesterday, however, I made it 25 minutes early. Time enough, thought I, to get the ticket, a sarnie, and then meander around WH Smith in search of a copy of the Fortean Times.

So, credit card at the ready, I waited for the people in front of me to get their tickets from the machine (the instant tickets being far easier than queuing in the main foyer, provided you know where you are going). They went, I inserted credit card and punched in the details. The machine should, at this point deliver three pieces of card - two tickets, out and return, plus a receipt. It spat the outward ticket at me and promptly announced that the printer was buggered, and that I should go to the main foyer for the rest of the ticket as I had been charged for this transaction, thank you very much. It then shut down and started sulking.

Well, I was a bit put out by this, but I still had 20 minutes before my train, and 5 before the earlier, faster Cambridge train which I had noticed while waiting.

So, I queue up. I get to the front and, brandishing my half ticket explain the problem. They insist on being taken to see the broken machine. "It's broken" I am informed, lucky they were there; I hadn't figured that out. So back into the main foyer ticket hall. To the annoyance of people in the queue, I get to wait directly next to one of the tellers, who then begins the arcane ritual of giving me the second part of my ticket. This involves re-crediting my card with the cost of the journey, then charging me again. Then there is the ritual canceling of the ticket, which is hampered by the fact that her printer won't work. There is a theme running here, and time is ticking away.

Eventually I am presented with two new baroque tickets, suitable for framing, and I have five minutes to get to the other end of the station before my train leaves, or it's wait another hour or so.

There's just no point in getting to the station early. The Karma Pixies insist on the ritual, which involves blind panic and a great deal of racing about. Technology quails and falls in the face of their onslaught, as do I. I have learned my lesson; next time just get to the station in the nick of time with plans other than to catch the train at the last squeak.

It is the way of things, when your train-fu is weak.