This Is the Aaarrrgghh of the Train

I know I've ranted about public transport here before and probably a million times or more in real life, but I've got a new story.

Yesterday I was to travel to Bridlington for music and liquid refreshment with my mate Ted.

Sometimes I drive, but because I intended to partake of liquid refreshment of the fermented variety I needed to take the train.

That's where the problem began.

One train was cancelled – possibly because some of Northern Rail's employees had decided to have a sick day and go to the pub, or possibly because their trains are as old as the hills and are held together mostly by duct tape and used chewing gum – and the next one turned up, full to the gills. As if the lack of seating wasn't enough, someone decided to swandive on to the platform as they got off the train – they were probably pissed out of their head – and delay proceedings for a good three quarters of an hour. I say good, but I don't mean good in any way.

The conductor decided that because someone had fallen from a Northern Rail train on to a Northern Rail platform at a Northern Rail station that he and his employers had a certain amount of responsibility. He sat and waited with the woman until the emergency services arrived to deal with her injuries, or “injuries” if she was faking it because she spied lawsuit potential. In fairness the platform is quite low at Driffield and passengers are warned about this, but that doesn't free Northern Rail of any blame.

45 minutes for an ambulance to arrive – the crew were probably all down the pub as well. 45 minutes. Yes, I know, it's appalling. Luckily drunken pretend injuries aren't life-threatening.

The train set off and the conductor, who looked like a 7-foot-tall version of Dave Gorman, came around to “answer questions”.

“Can I buy a ticket?” I asked.

“Don't worry about it,” he said.

“I need a return.”

“It's alright.” And he sauntered of to inform some horrified passengers that the train might not actually get them into Scarborough before Eastenders started.
Only it wasn't alright. If I was to get a refund for this colossal inconvenience I would need a ticket. I was unable to buy one at Driffield because the ticket office there sensibly closes at 1:30. There is a ticket machine on the opposite platform, but I wasn't going to walk all that way when it's allowed to buy one on the train in such circumstances.

Except I couldn't. Jumbo Gorman wouldn't let me.

On the way back I bought a single from the ticket machine in Bridlington, as Northern Rail now treat people who don't buy from a machine that's likely to swallow their money and issue no ticket before they board as fare-dodgers.

The single, for the record, is a mammoth 10p cheaper than the return.

I have complained to Northern Rail about the whole episode, but I can no more prove I was delayed by that train than I can plait fog.

And I'm sure Northern Rail have enough on their plate dealing with millions of disgruntled customers each day and don't have time to read this, which is why I tagged them on Twitter – hi, crap rail operators.

If my allegations of Northern Rail employees being down the pub is true then it's actually quite fitting as the company couldn't organise a piss-up in a brewery.

It'll cost them a lot, but why not fix the platform so it's actually safe? And if they want to throw some free tickets my way (unlikely after this rant, I know) then I won't complain.