Tag Archives: Edinburgh

Why I hate train companies. And my ex.

18 Apr

Unknown-7

I’m on the train from London to Edinburgh to see my friends and family over the Easter break.

When I got back from New York yesterday there was a whole thing with my tickets for this journey. By “thing” I mean “incredibly upsetting, aggravating, enfuriating and downright f***ing stupid situation”.

Let me explain. Remember in January I had tonsillitis? Well I had a booking to go up to Edinburgh and have a weekend with my friends. I’d booked it back in November when feeling particularly sad about my life one day. £160 for the pleasure of five hours on a packed train, rattling up the East Coast.

Well, I felt so ill in January that I couldn’t travel. So I paid another £30 to change the tickets to Easter weekend. I was supposed to pick the original tickets up from a machine in the station, but since I wasn’t using them I did not. I got my new tickets emailed to me. Boom. Only three months to wait to use them.

So yesterday I printed off my tickets and realised that I also needed the originals. Jet lagged. Tired. Confused. But never mind, I went down to the station to get the original tickets.

Tickets no longer on the system.

I had several phone calls with East Coast Mainline. The answer to each one was this: your tickets no longer exist. You need to buy new tickets.

WHAAAAT?!

I finally got through to a nice man called Stefan who said to buy new tickets, then write and explain and they might (note “might”) refund one of the journeys.

I had no idea what to do. New tickets were an additional £250.

So I did what I always do when I need help or advice: I called my Dad.

And his advice was, “Life’s too short. Pay the extra money. Go and see your friends.”

I took a moment and a few deep breaths. Made my peace with the injustice. Flexed my AMEX. And booked new tickets. Angrily.

But I feel OK about it, you know.

I want to see my friends.

And I booked the original tickets because I felt sad. I was ill because I didn’t sleep for six months. I didn’t notice I needed the old tickets because I was ill. You see what has happened here.

It’s all his fault.

Well, his and East Coast Mainline’s.

Welcome home to me

17 Oct

I got back from Boston about an hour ago. Quick unpack. Quick repack, because I’m going to Edinburgh tomorrow night.

I’m looking forward to a weekend of relaxing with the kind of friends you can totally relax with, seeing my sister and my nephews, and a kindofsortofsemi date with Wedding Boy.

I’m also looking forward to not being in my flat.

I love my flat. When I bought it three years ago I was just beside myself with delight at having my own place. I remember when I first came to view it, and immediately texted my friends and said, “I just viewed the flat I’m going to marry!”.

I just don’t like being at home anymore.

Being in Boston, and living in a (very nice) hotel room, distanced me from the life I shared with him.

Also, I’ve always wanted to live in the US. I’ve worked there a couple of times (two months in Pennsylvania, three months in New York) and studied at the University of Texas for a year. My family went on holiday to Florida and Colorado every year when I was a kid, and my parents still spend three months of the year in Florida. It’s fair to say we all have a bit of a love affair with America.

I guess I’m thinking that maybe the pizza of doom happened so that I’m free to go where I want and do what I want.

I don’t know. I’m jet lagged and tired and my thoughts are very jumbled.

Everything in my flat reminds me of him, and nobody welcomed me home.