Bag or no bag, I had my little trip.  I went to Leeds.  Good journey up; nice time there.  All tickety-boo.

Returning home there was a slight delay in the train departing Leeds Station.  The train manager’s voice came over the loudspeaker:

“Apologies to passengers joining at Leeds for the delay in this service.  This is due to a shortage of train staff.”

Fortunately, though, I did not have long to wait before the train was up and running.  However, when it reached Wakefield there was a further hold-up.  Once again, the train manager’s voice sounded over the Tannoy:

“Apologies to passengers joining at Wakefield Westgate.  This train is delayed due to a balloon on the overhead lines at Wakefield and a shortage of train staff at Leeds.”

This time the delay lasted over a quarter of an hour.  A balloon on the overhead lines is apparently a trickier problem to resolve than a shortage of staff.  But, before long, the journey was once again resumed.  That is, until the train reached Doncaster.

I was beginning to get familiar to the sound of the train manager’s voice:

“Apologies to passengers joining at Doncaster.  This train is delayed due to running behind a slow-moving train at Doncaster, a balloon on the overhead lines at Wakefield and a shortage of train staff at Leeds.”

I found myself privately congratulating the train manager on his prodigious memory.  To remember the place and nature of all the cumulative delays was like playing a game of Pelmanism.  I was suddenly reminded of the old nursery rhyme The House that Jack Built. 

I began to speculate what new delays might lie in store by the time that we reached Grantham and Peterborough, such that by the time the train finally reached King’s Cross, the train manager would be reciting:

“Apologies for our late arrival at King’s Cross.  This is due to trespassers on the line at Peterborough, signal failure at Grantham, running behind a slow-moving train at Doncaster, a balloon on the overhead lines at Wakefield and a shortage of train staff at Leeds.”

An hour later at King’s Cross, I finally emerged from the train a man all tattered and torn.

Simon Turner-Tree

Simon Turner-Tree does not want to hear the train manager’s voice again.