My Life on a Plate

Oh to be in England - NOT

I'm not sure I should be writing this so late at night but I need tension release before I can sleep. I only have one nerve left - God help hubby if he gets on it!

Today I took my mother to the railway station in Nottingham to put her on a train to Staffordshire where my sister lives. To transport a frail, forgetful 81 year old on such a journey has required military precision. My sister and I have checked out timetables and accessed the internet regarding train times all week to ensure a smooth journey for her.

We arrived in Nottingham in time to catch the one o' clock train. I checked out the 'departure' list but could see no mention of a train to the required destination. So had to take mother up a flight of stairs to the information desk. Park mother on a seat while I go to ask where the train has disappeared to. Am informed there is no train at one. Return to mother, blood boiling and phone sis on my mobile. (I hate them but they are useful on these sort of occasions) Return to information area, pick up a timetable which informs me there should be a train at one. Stand in a queue to ask why there is no train.

Some young flippant thing informs me the timetable has changed. When I point out that it's still on the printed version and the internet she informs me that posters have been stuck around the station about the changes. I tell her I don't live on the station and can't see posters from fifteen miles away and am rewarded with a sarcastic 'Have a nice day, Madam.' Up yours too.

Return to mother. Five minutes later a muffled announcement informs us a train WILL be running to her destination from platform six in three minutes time. To climb yet more stairs, cross a bridge and get mother to the train seems an impossible task so I run ahead to see if I can persuade the train to wait. It seems there is no crew avalable as yet. Put mother on train, phone sis again and wait. Twenty minutes later an announcement informs me the train will NOT be running as no crew can be found. By this time mother is in such a state of confusion she can't even remember where she's going! Remove mother from train and by now she needs the loo. Up another flight of stairs, over the bridge and down to the platform where the loos are. A notice is pinned to the door. 'Toilets Closed,' I don't usually use foul language but by now I'm tempted. Up another flight of stairs to another platform to find a loo then back again.

Wait on platform four for the next train. My stomach is rumbling, a cold wind makes sitting uncomfortable and then...another announcement! The train will now depart from platform one. Yet another flight of stairs, a very weary mother and my temper is decidely frayed. We sit and wait for the delayed train. I watch the rats scurrying by the railway line. I have no objection to rats; if people weren't so filthy they wouldn't surface but the trash and debris obviously attract their interest. But then again, there are no litter bins on the station so people will dispose of their rubbish inappropriately. I suppose the reasoning is that bombs could be placed in bins - by this time I could quite cheerfully do it myself.

Finally the two 'o clock train arrives at twenty minutes past. I deposit my mother on the train, phone my sis yet again and wave goodbye. It has taken four hours to get my mum across fifty miles. It takes less time to travel to Greece.

It's very late. Time to sleep, perchance to dream. About trains I suspect! Sorry to bore any readers but I really don't have much to say of any importance. Goodnight ...er...morning.