The Delights of British Rail

Or, rather, East Midlands Trains. This morning I dragged myself from my bed at least half an hour earlier than I liked to catch a train to London for a meeting. I loath these early starts,particularly on Monday mornings, when I am never at my best. As usual, I ran late and rushed from the house, leaving both book and laptop behind. Fortunately, my trusty iPhone and iPad are with me. I arrived at the station with about five minutes to spare and heaved a sigh of relief. The front portion of the train was already there, but we were waiting for the rear portion. So we waited. And waited. And waited. Apparently there were 'signalling problems' earlier. At last, the train pulled in, about ten minutes late. A flood of humanity poured forth, rushing, jostling, irritable. Those of us on the platform stood back politely, waiting to board. We knew the drill: the doors would be locked again while the two trains were coupled, then we would be let on. Unfortunately, the trains had other ideas. They would not couple. There was much rushing of personnel up and down, an ever-growing collection of people stood at the coupling point talking and staring down. Still, it appeared, t he trains would not couple. Then suddenly, miraculously, and for no apparent reason, they tried again and this time it worked. The doors opened, we clambered aboard and we were off. We are running seventeen minutes late. I shall, again, be late for my meeting. You just cannot trust the trains in the morning.