The curse of the bullshitting announcer
A long time ago in a far away land ( yorkshire ) there was a young RAF chappy who had been visiting witht he wifey back home, near Hull. Ok it was me. I was living in the Outer Hebrides which are like the Falkland islands but less culture, for some strange reason the wife decided to stay at the outlaws for a while longer leaving me to make my own way back to Jockland.

It was winter time, wet, cold, and I was stoney broke so was relying on my forces rail warrant to get me back to work.
It didn't start to badly, change at Selby, then York then sit on the east coast line staring at
the "landscape" for several hours, in the BR equivelant fo roadworks. Quite some time passed but to be honest as a young Dad with a wife and 2 kids under the age of 3 it was a nice rest. I picked my nose and daydreamed, read a book then daydreamed and picked my nose.

Eventually the train pulled off (fnaar !!) and we made our way to Edinburgh, this was when the "Curse of the bullshitting announcer" struck

"BING BONG we regret to announce that all passengers hoping to join the 18:00 Whiskey galore express to Glasgow have now missed this connection. However all tickets can be used to travel on the next train to Glasgow"

Relief all round, well for me anyway, but wait I have another train to take me to Paisley yet !! What will I do ??

"BING BONG all passengers hoping to travel to Paisley etc etc will be required to report to a member of customer services when alighting at Glasgow in order to receive further transport"


That was alright then, I returned to my epic nosepicking session. At Edinburgh I changed trains and finally alighted at Glasgow.

At about 22:00 on a Sunday night.

There were no customer services types around, apart from a tramp an me there was no one there.

Fucksox

I had no money on me, I did however have a credit card which may or may not work so I thought I'd chance my arm with a cab.

Making my way to the taxi rank I knew it was a long shot, 10 seconds later I knew it was more a case of "NaefuckingchancesonImnaetakkinganeefookeranywareona manckycreditcardfuckoff"

Or "no sorry" in English

I had to get to the Glasgow airport for a flight in the morning. I had ( still have ) two feet, and legs. So I set off walking.

Now the only time I'd been through Glasgow was on a bus or a train, walking along the train tracks seemed a bit silly so I decided to try the but route which I knew vaguely. It ran a long a dual carriageway, not the best idea really.

To make matters worse it was sleeting constantly, but there were hilights on my walk, namely being tailed by a police car through a town which I now know is Govan, and...well thats about it really.

I made the airport a fewe hours later, pissing wet through and cold, the rest of the journey was easy after that, even though some kind souls decided to wake me up from my comfy bed in a lounge somewhere to ask if I was going to Spain


Fucking Spain ???????????
(polar69, Thu 29 May 2008, 17:31, Reply)