Tales from the Tube

[Laxie]

Do you get on the plane or in it?

[Snatiramas]

Do you get on the plane or in it?

Now I am no wordsmith but I tend to get on a plane and get in a car......no idea why!!!!!!
It might be because I catch a plane. One definitely catches on, and not in, or maybe not

Post grammatically improved after the event. Original post done from an ipad in a PC World. Not great for typing

[GreekStein]

Enjoying this thread a lot Mr Ramas, thanks for writing!

[dizeeG]

this is an amazing read and some great stories along the way - much comedy as part of it too !!

hope to see that lady u met in Mia nightclub soon!

[gatso]

on a plane obv. I thought that on is for things you go onboard so planes, buses, boats, trains but then realised that bikes/motorbikes ruin that theory as you get on them too

[Laxie]

I'd much prefer to go in the plane.  Can't imagine you'd stay put for long if you were on it. 

[Snatiramas]

on a plane obv. I thought that on is for things you go onboard so planes, buses, boats, trains but then realised that bikes/motorbikes ruin that theory as you get on them too

Ah but is it because there is nothing to get in.....

[TightEnd]

On a Plane, clearly

[gatso]

on a plane obv. I thought that on is for things you go onboard so planes, buses, boats, trains but then realised that bikes/motorbikes ruin that theory as you get on them too

Ah but is it because there is nothing to get in.....

yeah, I'll go with that as my onboard thing works for everything that has something to get into. and you do get in a sidecar.

now just need to figure out what makes the use of onboard correct

[Snatiramas]

So we had a great lunch....well breakfast really, and the father of soul and I head into yet another American Mall. They are no different to the ones here of course, except everything costs less. Jamie has noticed that everybody has been staring at us since the start of the trip. It really has been most disconcerting, causing me to check my flies far more than normal just in case. I think it can only be the fact that we look like tourists......

Well we are now an hour and a half in, and have been singularly unsuccessful in finding a suitable present for our respective partners. We are not panicking but at the same time we know that some token gesture is necessary.

At this point, as we meander from shop to shop feeling tremendously uninspired, Jamie gets grabbed by a five foot five good looking bundle of energy whose name is Eli Cohen. Now how have you read the first name? Elly or Ee-lie. Isn’t it funny, how we assume in a book, that the name we give the person is correct? I remember being mortified on watching the first Harry Potter film that the poor girls name was pronounced Her-my- oh – knee and not Her- my- own. Ruined the whole experience!

Anyway this poor girls name is Elly and she is about to do a pitch on Dead Sea salt products to two very sceptical, knackered, severely hung-over Brits. She was brilliant it was without doubt the most amazing pitch. Her vibrantly blue eyes, undoubtedly enhanced with contact lenses, danced as she spoke. We both tried the hand scrub and from that moment we were just sold on the whole idea. Actually the stuff is good and Mrs. Snat uses it unlike the massage packs that you pop in the microwave that I bought her in Vegas!
So now we have it all! Presents for the kids, presents for partners, huge hangovers, and all that remains is a journey to the airport and a nine hour flight home. Marvellous! Well this part of the journey is remarkably uneventful other than we couldn’t find the lounge! By the way, shopping in a lot of US airports is not a patch on Theifrow.  Well after much walking and a certain amount of swearing by yours truly, due to our inability to find it, we settle in the lounge for a while.

Then onto the plane. Oooh Business Class. I like it. I start messing about with Jamie’s seat and then I stop when I realise it is easier for him to rearrange my seat. Of course he gives me a practical demonstration first. So we patiently sit. The cattle class passengers stroll past us. It is amazing how cattle class punters try and make you feel guilty for sitting in Business Class. Well I don’t! I love it. We are sitting and sitting and eventually the Captain says “Everybody off we have a problem with the hydraulics!”

I just want to go home, sitting in my Business Class seat, or rather semi –lying, asleep. Off we all get. Forty five minutes later we all get back on! Supper was lovely. They will wake me for breakfast and I fall asleep. Only to be awoken by an elderly lady who has some kind of fit. Noooooooooooo!!! Oh yes. I have been asleep two hours. There are five hours to go. The cabin is in darkness and I am wide awake. Bugger. In fact half the cabin is wide awake. Not Jamie. I almost wake him out of spite but decide not to.

Instead I play my favourite game of how I would spend a £12 million lottery win. You know who would get what, which new car, where would I live. All that stuff. Somehow I fall back to sleep whilst imagining whether it would be an XJ or Aston. Then just like that we are home. I love travelling but it is always sweet to get back to this much maligned country......
Until next week..............You can blow on the whistle to get attention!

[Snatiramas]

This morning I hate the tube

[outragous76]

This morning I hate the tube

[Snatiramas]

I sit in front of my laptop tonight somewhat troubled by thinking of a suitable topic about which to espouse.

 I thought I could write about the valiant struggle of the working classes against the unbearable oppression of management. Then I thought I could write about the forward thinking management team, who just want to bring in some flexible working practices and get rid of a few of the workforce along the way.

 Let’s be honest this would open up a whole can of worms so I am going to avoid it. Instead I am going to tell you a story of all that is wrong with the tube.  Last Friday there was no strike on the tube. I went online first thing and it stated a good service on the Northern line. Arrive at Edgware station and there are no trains at the platform. Now this is unusual as normally there are two there at any given moment of time during the rush hour.

I ask the young man who is on the walkie talkie communicating to what is known as control, what the problem is? Now I have no idea of his name but this guy is mustard. Always positive. Always polite. He tells me there is no problem. He says “you can see there is a problem, I can see there is a problem, but control say there is no problem!” So a good person who is doing his job without much support.

He puts me on the first train twenty minutes later and says that it should be Morden via Bank, but right now he can’t be certain. Well the train starts and sure enough it starts off as Morden via Bank and at Hendon the poor thing has a complete identity crisis and becomes Kennington via Charing Cross. So I get off at Camden Town and change line. I get to work five minutes late.

How in this modern technological age can control not have any idea that there is a problem? Worse still if they did know there was a problem, why didn’t they let the poor chap who had to face an irate public have some information!!

The strike that followed on the Monday is just an extension of what happened on the Friday. A lack of co-operation, a lack of information, only an interest to negotiate through the media. There lay the real problem. The power of the press and the belief that everybody needs to get their side of a conflict over to us the poor ignorant public.

Personally I would like a strike against all media day. Nobody listen s to the radio, nobody watches TV, nobody buys a newspaper, nobody catches up with the latest events on their computer. People just spend twenty four hours just talking to each other!!

Until next week if you are in the end carriage the last set of doors will not open.

[Snatiramas]

The next station is Manflu......

This is an all stations to feeling utterly wretched.
I will post something on the return journey

[Snatiramas]

Just like that it was gone. The manflu that is. Isn’t it funny that you don’t realise how well you feel until all of a sudden you don’t feel 100%? I always remember the old Tunes cough sweet advert, where the commuter goes up to the ticket window at a station (soon to be replaced by a machine with multiple options) and full of cold asks for a “decond class return do Dottingham”. It was a truly awful advert but it reminded me of an observation that I have been meaning to share with you for some time. Now as regular stalkers of this thread know, most days I catch the Northern Line.

The great thing about the Northern Line is the wealth of information that you get about the next station. There is an electronic messenger board and in addition a very pleasant voice tells you which station the train is approaching.  Lots of other lines have no warning at all as to the next station. You have to read the map. Bloody liberty. Elsie, for that is her name, reels the station names off one at a time, perfect electronic diction right up until we get to Hampstead.

For some reason Hampstead does not compute and it comes out as STANSTEAD. The first time I heard it, I obviously thought in my semi soporific early morning state I had misheard Elsie. Now six months later, I am absolutely certain that she does say Stanstead.

Now you can spot a Hampstead commuter. They are a different quality. They can’t understand why there isn’t an empty carriage just for them. I imagine that they are some of the most troublesome complainers who get on the tube. Why haven’t they complained? Where is the action group headed by Fortescue Smythe raising questions in the House?
I want to start a group but it really isn’t my fight. I have however started a new game which involves asking other peoples opinion as to what Elsie is saying. Eighteen to two so far agree that it is Stanstead. When you go on the Northern line I urge you to listen out for it.

To Victoria the escalator, who was down with escalator flu on Friday, get well soon