The Return of Commuter Boy

Having assembled the stats from my month of commuting hell on Commuter Boy, I have sent off a rather stroppy letter to South West Trains, detailing exactly how much of my life they have cost me. They'll probably ignore it because, let's face it, it's a bit sad isn't it?

However, by the end, writing a "C-log" every day was driving me up the wall, and quite frankly I didn't have the time. So I shall leave Commuter Boy up for posterity, but from now on, any particularly bad journeys will get blogged about here.

Such as...

This morning. Mainly I'm aggravated about the tube. The B has written a good article on the hell of travelling by tube here, and basically I felt the same today. Especially when, as I extricated myself from the crush to prepare to leave the tube, the tall wide businessman behind me chose the same moment to stretch out a bit. The end result of this, apart from annoying the crap out of everyone around him, was to jettison me head first into the Tub door as it was opening. So not only did I hit my head, it got dragged along as well. This a happy bunny did not make.

And a special comment on the lack of co-ordination between the various transport networks this weekend too. Living in the forgotten wilderness of Zone 3, we were clearly not important enough to warrant any transport services this weekend. The trains weren't running on the line into Waterloo (needless to say, we weren't warned about this in advance). Then there was the closure of the District and Circle lines between Earl's Court and Whitechapel, (though at least they HAD warned us about this in advance. So if you wanted to get to Charing Cross or Embankment from where we lived, you were buggered basically.

It was quite amusing that the announcements stated "There is a good service on the Piccadilly Line, and that's it" while we were waiting on the Piccadilly line platform at Leicester Square. It seemed strangely ironic after that when our Piccadilly line train stopped between Kings Cross and the Caledonian Road for about 10 minutes due to signalling problems at Arsenal. We were eventually shepherded off the train at the Caledonian Road after they decided to suspend the line. So that meant not a single tub line in London was running well. Joy.

Anyway, I'm probably ranting because I'm tired and in a bad mood. But still, I've got a lot more to blog about in the next couple of days before we all face impending nuclear death.