Alex's Bloody-Minded Highland Expedition - Part 3. DAY 3

The final part of our mock challenge-documentary, where our eyeoreish self-absorbed hero finally makes it home. Or tries to. It's a bit like Ulysses 31 but with public transport instead of spaceships.

If you haven't already seen them read the rest of the series (one, two, three, four) first.


08:25: Awaken from a night of blissful sleep five minutes before the alarm goes off and launch straight into the shower. Launch straight back out of the shower five minutes later to switch it off. Today's improvised shaving substance is "Radox Shower Gel". It also helps remove yesterday's coal from my hair.

09:00: Arrive at station well in time for the 09:47 train to London my notes say I'll be taking home. It doesn't exist. A quick assessment of the timetables reveals the only East Coast train from Inverness to London left two hours ago. Why did the timetable I scribbled down a fortnight ago say otherwise? Damn my handwriting. Am reamed to the tune of £40 for a single ticket to Edinburgh and hop on a local train (full of bloody tourists, not local people) just before it leaves. From there my magic Willy Wonka ticket will start to work again.

09:18: Realise I've left a pair of miniature thumb-cuffs on the window sill at Mrs Thrills' boarding house. I wonder what she'll make of them.

10:59: At Perth I have an idea. When life gives you lemons you should make... a cocktail! I text an old friend in Edinburgh and we arrange to go for Mojitos at Harvey Nichols.

10:50: Hurrah, Forth Bridge after all. It's ancient and rust-coloured, built in a bygone era when everything was constructed for giants by giants. In the space of three days I've seen everything good in Scotland.

13:19: Edinburgh is sweet. So is the friend. Suddenly I'm pleased my notes were wrong.

17:00: After cocktails at Harvey Nicks I board a southbound train. It's packed with millions of uncontrolled kids. I find a seat but meh, no power and the free wifi's dropped from its usual, awful standard to just plain broken. I scrunch up into a very tiny ball and, 8 hours after leaving the Highlands, start to read my tattered copy of The Thirty-Nine Steps. No view but that's okay; after the last two days I'm all landscaped out.

19:47: Leave York late. It's still packed with rowdy children. On closer inspection there are only two children but they are rowdy enough to seem like thousands. Immerse self in Underworld and deliberately fixate upon a combine harvester at work in the evening sunlight. It couldn't symbolize the end of summer harder if it tried.

20:00: The horrid children persevere in their mission to drive everyone mad. Worse still there are two posh, loud, obviously spoiled and very annoying girls sat opposite and I can't decide whether to fancy or loathe them. I settle for both.

20:15: Depart Doncaster 15 minutes late due to "a rowdy passenger on the train which required attention from the police". By now the bog is starting to resemble something from a nightclub. The tannoy keeps going "bong! bong! bong! Attention train guard, please contact the driver". Maybe he can't get the wifi[1] to work either.

20:48: It's getting dark outside. And colder. No matter what direction I travel in it's always getting colder. Heat death of the universe taking effect? Whiny posh tarts are getting restless; without power for their laptops they're having to resort to the lost art of conversation. Despite working in media they aren't good at it.

21:40: Arrive London KX on time. Only kidding.

21:59: Arrive London KX for real.

22:43: HOME


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Day 3 statistics: Mojitos: 1. Forth Bridges: 1. Apparent rowdy children: 2.96*10^15


So. Like a good arbitrary challenge documentary, what have we learned by the end?

• Complaining works. If they ignore you just complain harder. I've traveled about 1,400 miles this weekend and paid for hardly of them.
• Nothing will make you loathe humanity more than 22 hours spent on public transport.
• Neither of the East Coast trains I used this weekend ran to time. Maybe I'm due a refund on my magic Willy Wonka ticket - compensation on the compensatory offer so I can do the whole thing again? The Highlands must be gorgeous in winter.
• The Scottish Highlands are beautiful. Just don't stay at Mrs Thrills' boarding house.
• A friend says I'm an emotional masochist for doing this. She's probably right.
• Harvey Nicks do great cocktails.

THE END
?




[1] Truth in advertising: all over their literature and trains East Coast trumpet their free wifi. And indeed there is free wifi - you may associate a laptop with the "eastcoast-wifi" network to your heart's content. They do not, however, make any promises that eastcoast-wifi be connected to the Internet.


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Edit: photos of the expedition here.