On the train home...

I hate trains.

I mean we all have some sort of disdain for public transport, a lot of the time you would rather be driving than having to share your locomotive with a bunch of strangers who would be weirdoes and there always seems to be at least one that is. But I actually hate trains.

I'm currently typing on the train. This isn't all that weird but there are people who are looking at me funny with my widescreen laptop (I get the same look in lectures, but it's the most beautiful thing I own so it doesn't bother me) perched on my knee typing away like my life depends on it. The train to Preston was hell, delayed for half an hour and nowhere to sit; worried I was running over peoples toes with my suitcase and almost not able to get off. It wouldn't have been a disaster to not be able to get off, I could have just gone straight to Wigan but I didn't pay to Wigan so I may have got in some trouble there.

I don't know what makes trains any more scary than buses. I got 4 buses a day almost every weekday for 2 years and although the thought of leaving the house to start my 1 hour commute to college filled me with dread almost every morning – it wasn't the bus part of the experience that was the negative part. Buses and trains are not that much different. Trains are actually more reliable and if they are going to be delayed you know about it in advance and usually know approximately by how much as well, something you don't get with buses. At some point I've had to run for both. They both follow pretty strict routes and trains are faster. Train drivers can't just choose to change their route and not take you where they are supposed to take you because of snow or traffic (I'm talking to you Number 3 bus driver who decided not to go to New Look and dropped us at the side of the road instead). All in all you'd think that trains would be the preferred mode of public transport.

And yet I hate them.

Maybe it has to do with the fact that 95% of the train journeys I have made have been carrying a significant amount of luggage. I did nearly run over several pairs of feet on the train from Lancaster to Preston and trying to carry a laptop in its bag along with a suitcase and a bag of stuff that wouldn't fit in the suitcase is not the easiest thing for a 5"2' woman to achieve. But I carried the same luggage from my room to the bus to get to town centre, and this wasn't as stressful. It was still stressful mind, just not as stressful. So that doesn't seem to be it either.

I was thinking about this, and all of my previous experiences with trains. If you look at my family you'd expect me to have a fear of buses rather than a fear of trains – my mother can't stand buses. But I couldn't think what it could be that induced this emotional response when it came to the thought of having to get a train on my own. In fact the first time I ever did get a train on my own I broke down crying because I didn't want to do it.

And then I remembered. I can't remember how old I was at the time, but my mum was really into cross stitch and she would go to a cross stitch and craft fair with her friend every year. And I had gotten really into cross stitch as well so I was going to the same fair. On the train. But, because I was so young I had been stupid enough not to go to the loo before we left. Needless to say, we were on the train and I was really desperate for a wee. The train toilet was out of order. We were stopping at another station before we got to Manchester but there wouldn't be enough time to get me off and into the loo. So my mum did what you could do back then with young children, took me to the train doors so I could have a wee on the platform while the train was stopped (obviously this gives you a clue as to how young I really was). The train doors closed (on my Godmother's arm if I remember rightly, because she had tried to stop them) and we were still on the platform. Our tickets, my mum's bag, all of the other stuff we had brought with us were on the train with my mum's friend. Naturally, being a young child I started to cry, I had no idea what it was that we were going to do. I was young, I didn't understand trains; I didn’t know what to do. It worked out fine; we just got on the next train and were lucky enough that nobody asked us for our tickets.

Maybe this one event has had an effect on me for the rest of my life. I do manage to get trains; I'm on one now. In fact this is my 6th in the last 6 days. But I still get a sinking feeling when I know that I have to leave the house to go and get a train somewhere. Maybe next time I get the train I'll try going somewhere where I don't need any luggage and we'll see how stressful that is. But maybe I will just be scared of trains for a while to come, but often my life is about facing fears (such as leaving my room and walking around a very slippy campus to a lecture).

Anyway, I'll be home by 5, which is when this will probably be posted because you're not actually here with me at this point. My dad is picking me up from the station but will be a bit late because he has to work, but a lift greatly reduces the stress of the journey overall because buses in Skem are much more stressful than their counterparts anywhere else I will tell you that now.

Another thing that really annoyed me was when I was on my train from Lancaster to Preston it rushed past campus. An hour after I left campus. Seems like such a waste of time and energy to be doubling back on myself, but that's just the way the world is built!