Sunday 24th September 2006

I’m aware that for consecutive Sunday’s over the last few weeks I’ve bemoaned Sunday rail travel, as if I each Sunday comes as a fresh surprise. This Blog should be renamed Stanley McHale's Inexplicable Delusion That Travelling On A Sunday Is Similar To The Rest Of The Week... Lot. Hmmm, catchy. I rung National Rail Enquiries from my hotel and told them I was travelling from Edinburgh to Liverpool.

“Right… Well there are quite a lot of disruptions today.�

“Let’s hear it…�

“Well, you can do it with either one change, or two, or three. Which would you like?�

“Let’s go for one, shall we?�

That’s like being asked, upon the day of your execution, “Well we can give you a bullet in the back of the head, or we can chop bits off one by one. The advantage of the chopping is that it will take longer.�

I got to the station and bought my ticket. They are friendly at Edinburgh Waverley and always tell you which platform to go to when you buy your ticket, unlike in Liverpool, where they give you your ticket and then pull out a small voodoo doll of an basic passenger and stick pins in it.

“Right, you’ll be travelling to Preston. Get a bus to Wigan. And then a train to Liverpool.�

“I thought I could go straight to Manchester.�

He checked his screen. “No, sorry. Preston. Wigan. Liverpool.�

I went to the platform and looked at the screen. The train would be calling at Manchester and so I could do it the easy way, as my friend at National Rail Enquiries had told me. It seems strange then that I should be told to go to Preston and then do that whole coach journey thing again. I think it’s a ploy to send some people one way and some people the other in order to level out the number of passengers in any one place. You have to be savvy on trains to defeat their evil lies and just make your own way.

I drew up a third Muller advert on the journey. I think three should be enough to present to TBWA when I go down to see them. I’ve found I really enjoy the process of storyboarding a story out. You have to draw about thirty little drawings for even a 30 second advert so it’s time consuming, but when you’ve done that, and you’ve neatly written the details of each shot beside it, you can flick through and basically see a product, it’s quite rewarding.

If we can get money for these… That would be proud moment. And if they got on TV… I’d be insufferable! “That one’s mine! Yep. Came up with that. What do you mean I’ve already told you?�

The guard came along and looked at my ticket. “Change at Preston for Liverpool. Then a bus to Wigan. Okay?�

Yeah, whatever you say. I smiled victoriously to myself. I was going to defeat his evil plot to get me on a bus and simply stay on the train until Manchester, which I did, met Athena for a pint in the Black Bull near Piccadilly Station, and then trained home to Liverpool. My ticket was perfectly valid on the Liverpool train, and not a coach in site. Why do they do it?

Indoors, I made a cup of tea, unpacked dirty clothes, and went to bed. It’s funny how even these mini-trips can make coming home rewarding and I decided to indulge in trying to think of as many details of the last five days as I could. Meeting Dad, Ali and Steve. Getting a desk for Wade. That delay at Heathrow. Oh, The Comedy Café on Thursday. Being too scared to go on an Edinburgh ghost tour. The Stand. Lying train conductors. I was unconscious in minutes. And so now I know how you feel.

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