Commuting Characters

I have just returned to the joyful world of commuting with my new office job. I have to catch the bus, which I haven't had to do since sixth-form. It's ok actually, it takes quite a pleasant route, and I even get to see alpacas on a farm on the way, so I'm happy :)

The bus seems to be lacking, however, in the somewhat distinctive characters I used to encounter daily on the train to London when I had to commute for my first job. Both my husband and I used to work in the Big Smoke and would travel up together. This started before we became a couple and is partly responsible for my falling in love with him, even though I didn't know it at the time. Anyway, there were a bunch of interesting characters we saw daily and as good friends often do we developed a wide range of nicknames for these people.

Before I explain a bit about each of these characters, I must make you aware that there is nothing original or clever about the nicknames. They are simple and effectively describe the characters without being imaginative in  any way at all.

So, ladies and gentleman, we shall start with the lady we saw every day on our way to the station:

Steam Roller Woman - she would march past us, eyes straight ahead, arms swinging side to side, ready to flatten down anyone who stood in her path. She was a force to be reckoned with, scarier than those cyclists who sped up behind us without the decency to alert us of the presence by ringing their bell. She huffed and puffed like a steam roller too.

Having successfully made it to the station without being squished by Steam Roller Woman or any iniquitous cyclists, we would encounter more characters:

Weird Kid - there was nothing weird really about this boy, just that he was a school kid who looked very out of place with all the suits and briefcases. Our train was a bit early for the school run, so he obviously had to travel quite a way. He was also scared of us. We would smile at him as he looked shy, in the hope of reassuring him that not all commuters were miserable meanies, but I think we just freaked the poor boy out and if we came near him he would run to the next carriage along and bury his face in the sports pages of The Metro.

The Slacker - this guy, without fail, would always miss the train. The doors close 30 seconds before the train leaves, goodness knows why. As you heard the familiar bleep signalling that the doors were locking you would see The Slacker appear on Platform 1, unshaven, tousled hair, still half asleep... He would look with dismay at the train and then run up the stairs. Moments later you saw him appear on Platform 2, look again at the train with dismay, and then he would watch as it pulled out, achingly slowly in the direction of the city. The first couple of times I felt sorry for him - it's about another half an hour until the next train up that way, so who knew how late he would be for his job, whatever it was? But after a while I could not believe how this guy still didn't know what time the train left. He would always look so shocked that he was missing it yet again. But it left at the same time every day, WITHOUT FAIL. *sigh*

Mr Snob - Mr Snob would sit with a group of fellow small town elites and talk in a rather loud and extremely plummy voice about all the rights and wrongs of the world. Sometimes he sounded well-educated and informed, and indeed quite interesting. Other times he was very much the 'balding Tory, Home Counties, upper-middle-class twit' Bridget Jones describes in The Edge of Reason (although being from our neck of the woods he was probably Labour), and one wished one could block his BBC English out. For some reason he took deep offence to the term Human Resources. "What on earth does that mean? It is and always will be Personnel. I utterly refuse to call them anything but Personnel, and always correct anyone that has the audacity to call them Human Resources." That is (as far as I remember it) a verbatim quote. He also disappointed me that we never heard him say things like "By gum!" and "Cheerio, old chap!" He had that kind of voice, he should have used it with greater effect...

Starey Woman - she always, always looked at my husband for the majority of the train journey if we sat near her. Before we were together I found this very amusing, but eventually it became highly irritating. We did wonder if she had glass eyes and she couldn't help it. But no, she did blink and indeed occasionally looked elsewhere. One day my husband stared her out, and won, haha!

Bomb Bag Couple - one day we got on the train, and found a bag left under our seat. We scratched our heads and pondered out loud (and very loudly at that) whose bag it could be. A couple sat across from us, engrossed in His & Hers politics books or something equally random, and they did not bat an eyelid. Neither did the man sitting opposite them. So, we did the right thing. My husband disappeared down the train to find the guard. It wasn't so much that we thought there was a bomb in the bag, it was more that perhaps someone who had alighted at our station had left it behind accidentally. My husband returned with two guards, one on the radio, the other grabbing the bag and unzipping it. Suddenly the couple put down their books and the man yelled, "Hey! That's my bag!" They glared at us angrily, and he swiped it out of the guard's hands. We apologised and pointed out that it was left unattended.
There are specific announcements that happen at trains stations in this country every 30 seconds or so, "Please do not leave baggage unattended anywhere on the station platform or on the train. It will be removed and maybe even destroyed." And, "If you suspect it report it." (As an aside here, once at Clapham Junction the announcer said, "If you have reason to suspect anything suspicious..." I seemed to be the only person on the platform at that time who laughed out loud, oh dear I am that sad.) Anyway, we were slightly embarassed by this incident, but we hoped they'd learnt their lesson. Incidentally, whenever we sat near them in future, their bags were always under their feet or in the luggage racks where they sat, rather than under an empty seat across the way. Nevertheless we would from then on know them as Bomb Bag Couple.

The Trolley of Extortion - special mention must go to the 'buffet cart' that is wheeled through the train, serving light refreshments i.e. excessively over-priced cardboard tasting tea & coffee, grey sandwiches, and gold plated Kit Kats. Our favourite operator of the Trolley of Extortion was Mr Efficiency. On the way home he would run through the train, the trolley travelling at about 60mph, so that he had covered the whole length before Clapham Junction, which is about five minutes away from London Victoria. He would then spend the rest of the journey standing near the driver end, not doing anything. We don't know if he ever sold anything, or if he simply scattered confectionary and mini bottles of beer at commuters with the hope of having the exact amount of change thrown back it him, landing conveniently in the small rattly till. We will never know, for he just moved too fast to be able to really see anything other than a blur.

The journeys home were generally less entertaining after Mr Efficiency had sped through. There was Guardian Man who spent the whole journey elbowing other passengers as he leafed through his daily copy of, you guessed it, The Guardian newspaper. And Fruit & Nut Man who daily indulged in a Cadbury's Fruit & Nut bar, awkwardly attempting not to shower others with bits of peanut and raisin. Indeed, he would attempt to eat, whilst trying to look like he wasn't eating at all. I think this meant he got more weird looks than if he'd just brazenly torn the wrapper off and crunched and swallowed the bar as loudly as possible.

We also made a couple of friends, who we didn't need to christen with nicknames because we learnt their real names. One was a woman who would talk for the entire journey about her children and the grievance she was pursuing against a bully at work. The other would sit with us, listen politely, make the odd comment, and then fall into a deep slumber whence he would snore like Darth Vader breathes. These two individuals would irritate the rest of the carriage. You could just tell. The volume on MP3 players would increase. People would scrunch their eyes tighter in their battle to doze. You could tell that those reading books were having to re-read the same sentence at least 15 times because they couldn't concentrate. As a group we received a lot of glares, smirks, raised eyebrows, and sometimes a nod of agreement (although those people would quickly look out of the window if you caught their eye).

Yes, commuting by train to London was definitely an experience all right. Lots of stories to tell. I don't miss it in the sense that it wears you out, and there are too many occasions where you don't get a seat or the trains are delayed for some reason or another. But yes, I do miss the different characters we met. And I am waiting for interesting ones to develop on the bus. There must be some, right?