Dating: Tinder THE NAKED TRUTH

As my series on dating has shown my dating has been a pretty interesting experience, to say the least. It has had some ups but to be honest mostly downs. But, weridly these downs have been pretty amusing. Everything you have read in these blogs has been completely and utterly true. No truth has been stretched. Nothing has been made up for your entertainment. Maybe – it is the men I am attracted to. Maybe – its because I keep trying new things and moving away from my norm. I don’t think I have a type but upon reflection – its staring me in the face.

Am I desperate? Do I pine to spend time with someone because everyone else round me is in happy relationships. Honestly – the answer is strangely no. You find yourself spending weekends in bed eating peanut butter on toast, drinking tea and then eating a whole jar of peanut butter off a knife – which I have found I love doing. Whilst, your housemate and close friends travel to the different corners of the country to visit their other halves. Joyous. Its lovely and of course I am extremely happy for each and everyone of them. I have found weekends an exciting time to travel, see new friends and see old ones.

They say your twenties are a time for exploring, finding yourself and having fun. I am doing all of those things. I am twenty- two years old and yes, I am single! Who cares! I am loving it. What will the future bring? I have hopefully a prosperous career. At the drop of a hat I could go anywhere in the world.

But, its time to stop. Its time to stop looking. Stop settling just to fit in.

So, I really don’t need a man to complete my life at the moment. Anyone who knows me will realise that I am a career women who wants to be successful in the an industry that needs you to constantly be on top. Constantly up-to-date. Constantly ahead of everyone else. In fact, be more prepared and live life in the fast lane.

Tinder

So that’s why I joined Tinder….

Ha! Got you there.

Tinder is a wonderful invention.

The set up of Tinder is simple.

It connects secretly with Facebook and steals your name, age and a small sample of photos.

You can upload extra photos so that the male/female players can judge you further.

The whole app is based on location – which you can set from 2km to 150km away. I usually have my set to the closet possible which is 2km. I can’t be doing with the prospect of travelling. All though I am sure you all know from my POF dating experiences, men usually travel to see me. I am cool like that.

Image-1 (5)

Tinder gets better. In fact you don’t even really need to be able to read to use it. It just has pictures. It is dating for the lazy. You can Tinder anywhere!

Tinder

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Of course, there is a short blurb section where people mostly write their Twitter, Facebook, BBM pins and Snap-chat names so you can stalk them further. Personally, I think most people are just trying to get extra followers.

Image-1 (4)

But Tinder cuts the crap. I don’t need to read a long profile about how amazing you were at teaching children in other countries, that you’ve travelled to Thailand and touched a tiger, you just live for the gym and your friends are your life…

Trust me I have read the same blurb hundreds of times and seen the same photos over and over again. Sadly, your travelling experience would appear to be the same as everyone else’s….! So, if you thought that you had a unique experience  I am afraid that 50-60% of people on Tinder have touched a tiger or an elephant, been to a Thailand full moon party, taught in a foreign school, strangely held a snake or been to an American Basketball game.

Tinder is simple.

I look at a photo of you and for all three seconds

of my life I decide if you are attractive. If you fit the bill I swipe my finger to the right and if you don’t really meet my desires its on the scrap heap, swipe to the left!

If both parties have swiped to the right. “It’s a match!’

This then gets added to your match section.

Image-1 (3)

If I am being honest it is a bit of an ego boost.

Image-1 (3)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I have currently 545 matches… and sadly they mean nothing.

Then if you can be bothered you can engage in awkward conversation with this person.

Image-1 (2)Image-1 (1)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I must say it is just men looking for an easy leg over. I do not part-take in such activities. However, I do enjoy ripping people apart when such requests should be proposed. I actually feel like I am doing these men a favour by either telling them off or messing them around.

I thought I would give you some excellent examples of people I have had to deal with – let me add I have protected their identities.

Personally Marvin (below) is one of my favourites…. and to the rest of the desperate men out there… I hope to god you learn. Thank you Marvin.

Image-1 (1)

Image-1 (2)

Advertisements

Trip Advisor: Hospital Trip Part 5

Operation

Chapter 10: The operation

The time had come – I was presented with a paper of sexy paper pants… and a gorgeous green dress which was extremely slinky. In fact it didn’t even have a back by just tied up at the back.

I had to get changed of course into my night-dress and then the ladies on my ward asked me to show them how I looked. So I strutted up and down the ward wheeling my drip and limping. I looked so sexy.

The porter who was called Alan came to wheel my bed down and I left the wonderful women of my ward behind and off I went down to theatre.

Of course being me it wasn’t that simple… I had the whole question and answer test with the anesthetist. Who asked me so my questions about my life. After finding out I had been throwing up he proclaimed that I would need a rapid induction when they put me to sleep.

In otherwords… I was going to be strangled…. yes. Strangled in a hopsital.

I was wheeled into the theatre where I was greeted by a lovely gentleman dressed head to toe in mistletoe green who introduced himself as Kevin my surgeon – yes his name was Kevin that really made me feel confident.

The last thing I remember before I was strangled and put to sleep I said:

‘Kevin, if you ruin my stomach I will literally kill you’

Then I woke up and I was cured….

Well I am sure you realised that I was not the end of my terrible trip to hospital.

I of course needed a drink considering I hadn’t had water pass my lips for about 2 days – but alas the nurses had placed the water to far away that I couldnt reach it. I couldn’t reach the bell either maybe they were doing it for banter…

I had to call for help – Florence Nightingale did not appear. I was actually asked why I needed help and that most patients after they have opeartions sleep….

WELL I AM AWAKE.

I then asked for some help to get to the toilet…. the nurse then asked me why I needed help excatly?

Yes this did occur to which I replied in the politest way possible… ‘Well I have just had an operation, I cannot walk… I haven’t been to the toilet for nearly six hours.’ She was unamused but yet escorted me to the toilet.

Weeing in the toilet was such a joyus experience the sense of relieve was beautiful. Well, until I got stuck on the toilet and had to ask for help. My stomach felt like someone had punched me 30 times in a row just for banter and then decided to punch me again just for good measure.

I am glad to say I survived the night and I slept properly for the first time in 3 or 4 days to be honest it was a little hazy.

However, waking up to the Doctor and his gang of 10 doctors was not so joyous. Whether you need sleep or not the lights go off at the same time every night and they are turned on at the same time of the morning.

I greeted the doctor and his merry friends as best I good as I was poked and prodded again. I was asked if the pain had gone and to be honest I was throbbing but I had got used to the dull pain by now.

I needed painkillers. The doctor agreed. I thought bloody hell I am getting good at this – if all else fails I shall become a doctor… hahah. However, sadly I waited nearly 5 hours to be given some painkillers.

But joy of joys I ate for the first time – it was of course disgusting but when you haven’t eaten for four days it is best to just be greatful.

All in all I survived and I am glad to say that I have mended well I could continue this sorry story but at the end of the day I am sick of writing about it and I am sure you can’t be asked to read anymore!

Trip Advisor: Hospital Trip Part 4:

Chapter 8: Adult Potty….

Before visiting hour – I was resting after my tiresome ultrasound – to be honest not eating anything makes you incredibly tired. The women next to me was amazing, she was called Sue, in her 60’s and had not eaten for 4 days. She was waiting to basically have a camera shoved up her bum to see what was going on inside her which is highly delightful.

Sue and I decided that to pass the time we would pretend that we were heading off to Ibiza, we were on a diet in order to skinny down and look amazing in a bikini before we jetted off for our amazing holiday in the sun.

Surprisingly, this analogy worked. A head fuck yes but a good distraction.

However, poor old Sue caused an excellent distraction during a rather boring Monday afternoon in hospital.

So… lets get the maths right, in order to get a camera inserted into your arse this requires this area to be cleared out straight away. I am not quite sure what drugs Sue was given but they worked pretty fast less than 15 minutes and she dashed off to the toilet…

20 minutes later she returned proclaiming:

‘Everytime I moved more came out….’

Sue went to lie down, when her friend arrived for a chat, the curtains were drawn around her as after being on the toilet for such an intense session nobody wants to see the light of day.

The nurse returned with another and final dose of the drug to continue to rear spring clean. She also brought a small portable toilet, basically a chair with a hole in the seat and a plastic bag attached underneath to catch the ummm drips….

5 minutes later: I hear a groan, a giggle from Sue’s friend, then a amusing shuffle and then a peal of laughter as Sue’s friend laughed at the situation poor old Sue was in.

Of course I didn’t see behind curtain but by the sounds and noises I could hear bad things were happening.

Poor Sue couldn’t make the actual toilet and therefore used the adult potty. So the nurse’s dream came true – someone shat themselves into a plastic bag on an adult toilet.

 

This ‘Inbetweeners’ clips sums this situation up most perfectly.

 

Chapter 9: It’s a girl!

During the afternoon I had mH11any visitors to brighten my life and to help the time go faster because seriously being in a hospital is like waiting for the world to end.Daisy Pj;s

In fact according to the highly trustworthy newspaper the Telegraph it will in fact end: 2000002013AD – the year the world will end? Proving that waiting in hospitals is a very long time.

During my stay I had many exciting visitors and guests even though visiting hours are at set hours everyone was breaking the rules.

Hayley from work brought me an overnight bag on Monday morning with exciting items such as a sponge, a toothbrush, soap and the most amazing items were my Monster Inc colouring book and Daisy inspired PJ’s if anyone who reads this doesn’t know me I own a rabbit called Daisy so this was a welcome mood brightener!

Daisy Rabbit

Other guests included the wonderful Cathi who had brought a large array of exciting magazines to cheer me up. She had collected them in a rather W.I rally fashion asking all her friends for them. Amazing – I was up-to-date on the celebrity gossip by the time I left holiday. I knew all the things there was possibly to know about the Kardashian’s but seriously who even cares.

Ellen from work also paid a visit during the lunch time period bringing me lots of sweets that I could sadly only stare at, as no eating was allowed.

Later on in the evening after I had napped, coloured, wheeled my drip to the toilet, watched other people eat: it was evening and proper visiting hours.

Matt my housemate arrived with my wonderful friend Ben bringing lots of hugs, clothes from home and lots of talk of battered sausages.

Battered sausage digression:

The reason behind the battered sausage talk was the fact that since I had entered hospital I had for some reason been craving a battered sausage and chips –H9let’s be honest I wasn’t going to get it in hospital 1. because the food is terrible and 2. I wasn’t allowed to drink or eat anything which is awkward.

On the other hand my bikini Ibiza body was going well – I had lost nearly a stone and was feeling terrible. Starving yourself thin is not the way to go and I wouldn’t recommend it to anyone.

Eat healthy and exercise – I write this after I have consumed 11 chicken wings, chips and some Apple Tango – joyous – I feel horrific. That was not a good choice.
More visitors arrived to add to the fun of Ward 8 friends from work arrived bearing gifts – well not your normal kind of gifts.

My work parents (they call themselves my work parents, they call me Hansy and care for me as my parents are at my home in Cambridge) brought me an exciting array of gifts. Basically then went to the Hospital shop and bought me as much as they could find – basically they bought the most random items they could find to cheer me – it was like Christmas!Men’s boxers – 3 pairs an array of colours white, black and grey in a large (just in case) – these were hung from the bedside lamp as decoration.

  1. A nightgown – an XXXL – basically a sheet so if I threw up again on myself or on my bed – I WAS PREPARED
  2. Surprise magazines – A Card Making Magazine, A children’s lucky dip magazine – providing endless fun of stickers, a frisbee and a blow up football. This launched into a game of catch with the other 5 patients in the beds on my little ward – we were the worst patients – however it was the only fun we had all day. The stickers were stuck everywhere all over the machines and my drip had the wonderful addition of the Very Hungry Caterpillar toy.

The best present was…. my work parents decided my poor appendix was going to be a girl… that didn’t stop people asking where my baby was…

After the visitors had left the doctor arrived to bid me the news that in two hours I would be having my operation. I have never been so scared in my life.

 

Trip Advisor: Hospital Trip Part 3:

Chapter 6: Robbery

My first night in hospital had been an interesting one – I had thrown up on myself, been wheeled to the toilet in a wheelchair and fainted on the toilet – and that was all before midnight.

After midnight I had a restless night. One reason being that – Before I went to bed I was told and asked to sign a waiver form that if any of my personal items were stolen the hospital wouldn’t be held responsible. Amusing considering I couldn’t walk let alone run after anyone who decided to steal any of my personal items…

This led to me sleeping with many of these items that I thought had some kind of importance to my existence in hospital…

That night I slept with:

  1. My phone
  2. My phone charger
  3. My colouring book (Monster Inc – kept me occupied)
  4. My bag of washing items
  5. Magazines

To be honest the bed was uncomfortable enough without the added extra of the items above – however I weighed up the pros and cons and decided that in the long run and potential robbery I wouldn’t be able to get through the hours of boredom without them.

Fortunately I wasn’t robber but I can’t work out whether this was down to the fact I didn’t sleep at all, the pain was unbearable or I was terrified of being robbed by clever robber posing as a Doctor or Nurse?

Chapter 6: The morning welcome party

The morning after the night before

So I woke up in the morning about 8am (so I must have slept a little bit), just sat up to get comfortable when I am seriously not kidding a PACK of doctors arrived at my bedside, closed the curtains and started talking about me to each other!

Um Hello – I am sitting here and I was trying to consume by breakfast of the NHS’s finest orange juice…

After talking about me to my face they asked how I was doing and then yes – I was inspected in the groin and inner leg area again… To preserve my dignity my pillow was used to protect my triangle (I am going to hope yo know what I am talking about).

‘Do you mind if we just check you over Hannah?’ (The Doctor address me)

‘I have got beyond the point of caring… but you have started so you should at least finish’

After my triangle was protected the prodding and wincing commenced – they then announced in a brash tone:

‘As you can see the patient, has slight swelling in the abdomen and pain around the right hip… The patient will be sent for an ultrasound scan to see if we can see what the appendix is doing….’

During this statement doctors and the like noted down things in their notes books…. yes this happened.

‘Oh and Hannah you won’t be able to eat or drink anything before your ultrasound scan….’

I stop drinking my orange juice in a saddened manner even though it tasted like crap and then looked at them all – proceeded to down the whole thing and then said:

‘I won’t drink anything else – I promise, looks like I am on a drip diet – roll on Ibiza…’

They left….

So I was fitted with a fluids drip which is a highly inconvenient – you have to stay in the same position the whole time so that the blasted fluid goes into you – talk about awkward positions.

Surprisingly I only waited a mere hour before a delightful young porter man came to pick me up in his chariot –

Back to Alton Towers we went… bashing into all the things – including doors and the like.

When we arrived at my destination I joined similarly dressed people in their PJ’s waiting for their ultrasounds.

If anyone knows me – I love to fill that awkward silence so I announced that having an ultrasound was not in my life plan and the only time I thought this would be occurring is when in fact I was with child. I then announced that I was not pregnant to my knowledge.

Silence…

Then an old man next me wet himself…

He was whisked away leaving a beautiful shining beacon of urine behind… which consequently was discovered by the porter who took me to the Ultrasound room – he trod in it. I laughed so hard that a little bit of wee came out.

Chapter 7: Show me all my organs…

Well what can I say the ultrasound was an experience: To put it into context I was having an ultrasound because they wanted to see how swollen my appendix was and if anything else was going on inside me…

They laid me down, got me comfortable before I was handed two pieces of over sized blue kitchen towel – one to tuck into the underside of my bra (as I had to roll my t-shirt up to expose my stomach) and the other was to yes save my dignity and tuck into my pants….

The annoying thing about my appendix was located near to my triangle area which meant it was getting a lot more air-time than usual. I mean I was soon going to have to start charging for such exposure.

 

Picture of Appendix

Anyhow, for anyone who has seen One Born Every Minute the process is exactly the same. The Doctor applied on to my stomach – it was so warm and snuggly kind of like when you put a jumper on when you are playing out in the snow, your hands are cold but the rest of your torso is so warm.

After the gel was applied – basically looked inside me… how exciting… but also really werid.

However, I really didn’t think this would ever happen to me unless I was lying with my of course gorgeous husband holding my hand as we look at a the black and white live image of my unborn child. I would then wipe away a tear and kiss my husband with joy.

This of course did not happen – instead of my unborn child – I saw my organs. He spent a while searching for my appendix, an extremely long time.

During the deep sea search of my stomach… I thought while I am here I proclaimed:

“SHOW ME ALL MY ORGANS….”

To which he did…. all of them – 45 minutes later I knew where everything was. Unfortunately he did not find my appendix, the poor little guy was hiding away from the nice Doctor and his warm gel and werid ultrasound stick thing.

I was then wheeled back to my lovely bed! Where I was hooked up to another drip and I continued my enforced hunger and water strike. Trust me not drinking is the worst – I looked like a Zombie – my mouth was dry but also so were my lips but luckily I had brought my trusty Vaseline with me and the world was saved.

During the waiting period I drew a beautiful picture….in my amazing Monster Inc colouring book and yes I am that talented….

Monster Inc colouring book talent!

 

Trip Advisor: Hospital Trip Part 2:

Chapter 5: ‘At least you didn’t shit yourself…’

So if you have read the story so far I would like to say it gets worse…

hospital

I had been in hospital since about 2pm in the afternoon – what you have to understand is no matter where you are you have to wait for everything.

I had moved from the uncomfortable chair in the A&E waiting room to a wonderfully uncomfortable bed in the hospital ward.

I hadn’t eaten all day – the ward basically had me hunger strike I wasn’t allowed to eat or drink anything. The kind of hunger strike that would have you on a beach in Ibiza with a beautiful washboard stomach. Except I was not going to Ibiza and I was high on morphine that was not doing anything for the pain.

It was probably about 9 pm and finally they decided that I was allowed to eat something – can you believe it – something to eat – that’s when they presented me with a squashed, thin, grey tuna and cucumber sandwich.

Yummy – what more could I want than a tuna sandwich for dinner! Yeahhy! I mean seriously what planet are they on.

….and then half an hour later after one bite of the delightful tuna sandwich and a bottle of oasis summer fruits I threw up on myself.

For 45 minutes I sat in my own sick because I couldn’t move. The pain in my hip was so bad that I physically couldn’t lift myself off the bed.

The nurse came by and gave me a sick bowl – they look a little bit like grey bowler hats….

I threw up again missing the bowl completely except for a small splodge…

The nurse came back:

Hannah: ‘I am really sorry I threw up again,’

Nurse: ‘Well at least you didn’t shit yourself….’

Hannah: (holding up the bowl and pointing to the splodge of sick) ‘I got this bit in the bowl….’

The poor nurse had to undress me, wipe down my bed and change it…..

Chapter 6: ‘Stay here… you won’t move will you?’

The lights were turned out about midnight for what for most normal people call night-time – but nothing stops at a hospital.

I didn’t sleep at all – I had to lie in a werid position to let my fluids get in through my drip – how exciting.

Of course one thing leads to another and eventually you need the toilet. But its awkward when you need to pee but you can’t move. I had to press the call button to ask to be – yes escorted to the toilet. Gets worse though doesn’t it when you can’t walk to the toilet that is 10 seconds away – so you have to be wheel-chaired to the toilet. Lifted on to the toilet and then they have to pull down your trousers for you. Mid wee I faint….

Yes keel over on the toilet…

My head kind of in my lap lolling like a dog.

The nurse of course is not equipped to be dealing with a bottom naked young lady, mid wee flow, fainting for banter.

The only words I remember are:

‘Hannah, stay here, you won’t move will you?’

I reply in some kind of morphine induced coma… ‘Do you think I am really going to go anywhere?’

So by the end of my first day in hospital I have been prodded and poked, been asked if I was doing drugs, had my blood taken, fainted and couldn’t see, ate a squashed tuna sandwich, threw up on myself, fainted on the toilet…. all this occured in one day… you wait till you hear about Day 2!!!

Baffled

Baffled

Trip Advisor: Hospital Trip Part 1

Chapter 1: Inner thigh pain

Unfortunately I was taken ill a few weeks ago:

It all began on a Thursday – the day before wondrous Friday – my inner hip or pelvis started hurting and by Sunday I was pretty much unable to walk and limping was a standard!

I decided to take myself to the A&E:

I had not been to A&E since I scaled a large kitchen cupboard at the age of five and ate all the travel sickness pills my mother had decided to hide in the highest cupboard. I was of course rushed to hospital and given what I thought was orange squash… I was sick for many hours.

So I returned 17 years later with a pain in my hip… yes a pain in my hip – who knew after being prodded and poked in some rather umm areas close to home such as my inner thigh…. I was admitted to hospital.

Before the story really begins….

Before entering any hospital you must address these three main points:

  1. You will probably waste over 4 hours of your life waiting for something to happen.
  2. Take some water because if you want a drink of water in A&E you have to ask for it, it is poured for you and no drinking the water from the bathroom taps!
  3. Take a some kind of reading material because the television that is available has news on repeat: By the time your standard 4 hour wait is over you will basically be a newsreader.

Chapter 2: The doctor who didn’t know how to take blood

I was taken up to the ward in a wheelchair which at the time I compared to being on the runway mine train at Alton Towers….

We navigated around doctors, nurses, patients, tackled the lifts and then rammed doors – it appeared the only way to get through any door was to be pushed at speed through them – eventually I was placed in a bed if you can call it that. It was probably the most uncomfortable thing I have ever had to lie on for a elongated period of time.

However there was the fun of pressing buttons that moved different parts of the bed up and down – at one point I was literally sandwiched between the foot of the bed and the head of the bed in some kind of scratchy hospital bed sandwich. Eventually after making myself at home and comfortable I was approached by a Doctor wearing a white lab coat, a stethoscope around her neck and a clip board – for a moment I thought I was on the set of ER.

She didn’t speak much English at all and after asking her to repeat her questions about ‘Where it hurts?’ ‘What my medical history was?’ and many other amazing and interesting questions I was yet again inspected and asked where it hurt, to press on this, move that and so on. It was finally time to have my blood taken and my cannula fitted so I could be put on a drip.

My friend Hayley from work had come to support me through this terrible ordeal as mum and dad had decided to take a holiday in Scotland a few days before – bloody selfish!

The Doctor returned with only can be described as ‘the biggest syringe I have ever seen in my life,’ and thats when the ordeal began….

Let me put it into perspective – my veins aren’t the easiest to find but I do have veins to carry blood to and from my heart and go around my body – EVERYBODY DOES.

After a rather Trainspotting experience of having a piece of elastic tied round my arm and having to squeeze my fist into my palm to get the blood pumping my poor little vein would not appear.

I was then asked by the Doctor in the white coat: ‘DO YOU DO DRUGS?’ yes, those very words were uttered…I looked and said ‘Do I look like I do drugs?’

Silence.

Then my arm was repetitively slapped – Yes my arm got bitch slapped – but still the vein refused to appear. Two Doctors and 3 nurses, more slapping and elastic tying later a nurse managed to coax blood from my poor arm. They took so much blood that when they left I fainted….Poor Hayley had to deal with a rather dazed statement:

‘Hayley I can’t see?’

‘Hannah you don’t need to see’

‘Oh ok’

They've taken some of my blood....

They’ve taken some of my blood….

Chapter 3 – They’ve taken some of my blood…..

In true Johnny English style – once connected up to a drip, every-time I needed to move anywhere such as the toilet I proceeded to wheel my drip with me to the toilet reinacting a particular scene for the first Johnny English film… This continued for the three days I was in hospital.

Johnny English: My God, what have they done to you?

Elderly Man: They’ve taken some of my blood.

Johnny English: The bastards.

Chapter 4: Getting high for free

Being in hospital is possibly one of the most boring experiences I have had to go through – to be honest it looks like I was having fun but I was in a lot of pain which of course required large amounts of pain relief…

I tried so many drugs you wouldn’t believe – none of them worked…. This is what happened when I was given morphine…..

How to travel on a British Train

The wonders of British Train Travel

trains

It would appear that travelling on a train in Britain is becoming more and more difficult. For some; its an everyday struggle. The price of  travelling on public transport is continually rising.  It would appear that it can cost up to the price of a small farm animal to travel on a British train.

I will not get into it – but the metaphorical suggestion of a small animal is quite apt, because the experiences I have had on trains is similar to visiting a petting zoo.

For one there are never enough carriages, everyone is squashed.

Let me paint a wonderful picture…no matter where you are, whether you and the rest of your wonderful fellow passengers have managed to get a seat or are left standing up: the experience is the same.

During your train travel experience you are most likely to experience at least one of the below:

  1. it smells of swear because air conditioning is broken
  2. someone chatting extremely loudly on the phone
  3. prams that contain screaming babies (who sadly are usually brats for some reason)
  4. sticky toddlers stuffing their faces with quavers
  5. bikes propped up – these generally fall over when the train jolts and stops abruptly. (I have actually been hit several times by other peoples bikes falling over and have received somewhat cumbersome bruising. I then thank the genius person that invented those rather funny fold up bikes –  I secretly laugh at  people for having them- but in terms of train travel – they are ok.)

Then you have those people who sit in or under the luggage racks – depending on the train, where it is going and whether there is a large amount of women who have over packed for a weekend at their friends, parents or partners – 5 pairs of shoes is not OK for three days.

Of course my first choice is to sit in a seat – however I have been known to sit in a luggage rack when there is no sitting or standing space.

The other annoyance in the space front is the wondrous 1st class section which lends itself to nearly 1/4 of the train carriage! It is always empty… nobody sits in there. But if you sit in there you get a fine if you don’t have the right ticket. Bloody madness.

Story 1:

I was on my way to Leeds to see my best friend Chloe. I boarded the train at Leicester where I found that there was no room at the inn in terms of seating. The prospect of standing for the two and a half hour journey was neither appealing or was going to happen.

The luggage rack had of course a rack to place luggage and then a space underneath for large suitcases, children, dogs and any other emotional baggage one has these days.

I slipped underneath and made myself at home with my book, some coffee and a delightful snack, usually sushi for some reason – excellent snack.

Unfortunately half way through the journey a rather large man who had an impressive beer belly – he had obviously invested a large amount of time growing it – perched on the luggage rack opposite mine. I was then greeted with a view of his delightful belly button that poked out every time the train jolted – due to his ill fitting t-shirt. He would smile down at me in a leering manner – I felt most uncomfortable.

Then to add insult to injury I was then joined at the next stop by two teenagers who squeezed underneath my luggage rack. I was then faced with being continuously elbowed as they took self portraits of themselves (selfies as they are otherwise known as) together and then proceed to YES upload them on facebook labeling them: My train Journey.

I was thankful to leave the train: Just before I jumped off I was greeted with this horrific entrepreneurial quick fix to life.

British trains' answer to falling bikes.

British trains’ answer to falling bikes.

Yes, a hanging bike rack – may I ask how you get your bike up there?

I can barely lift my bike up a kerb let alone, lift it, suspend it and hook it on to this stupid contraption.

I left the train in disgust.

Story 2:

I travel on trains quite a lot – it easy to jump on the train home to go home and visit the parents and I don’t own a car because I currently learning to drive.

On one of my delightful trips home to see my parents – if you go during the day with a railcard it is a lot cheaper – only £10 return!! However, this time usually brings out the strangest of people.

I have managed to get a seat – I like the ones with the tables I can stretch out my legs, spread out my things on the table and pretend to be intelligent, intellectual and studious (well i did that when I was a student – whip out an academic people – yeahhhh people’s eyebrows go up)

Let me paint a picture:

Next to me and by the window (so to my left) is a woman typing on a laptop. Opposite me is a women playing on her phone. Next to the women playing on her phone is a man playing on his ipad, wearing a Nike tracksuit ensemble, wearing gold rings and drinking Stella.

The moment I sat down, I wish I had not – they say don’t judge a book by it’s cover –  I know.

But 5 minutes into the journey – after I have opened by book and begun reading (note it was not educational), the tracksuit man starts trying to read the blurb on the back of my book by ducking and turning his head – moving closer and closer to the table in the middle of us. He then burst out laughing. This carries on continually for 15 minutes.

Soon he grew tired of trying to stare out my book blurb. He then moved on to the woman next to me. After taking a large slurp of Stella he actually pushed the laptop screen forward and said to the women ‘doing work is for boring people’, the women who is of course shocked rightfully ignores the man, pushes the lid back up and continues typing.

The bad man then pushed the laptop all the way down – turning it off and coursing the women to loose all her work and not being able to turn her laptop on.

But a pat on the back for her she just says calmly: ‘Please don’t do that!’

He then takes another slurp of his Stella and asks the women next to him if she would like to go back to his because he could show her a good time!

By now – I was pondering my next move – I mean do I move seats, do I tell the conductor or do I sit tight and hope he leaves at the next stop.

I dismissed the first two ideas thinking that it could cause me more trouble than it was worth and luckily to he did disembark at the next stop – but not before asking the woman next to him again back to his house.

She refused politely.

After the man had left – I stupidly announced to the train ‘Bloody hell that man was mental’

Nobody was amused.

That’s the problem with British trains – nobody is friendly!

Story 3:

Yet another trip down to see my parents involved an amusing experience with food and drinks trolley. It does puzzle me how the train service is allowed to get away with charging it’s customers £1 for a mars bar, £4 for a terrible sandwich which has probably traveled on the train since the early hours of the morning – poor thing it must be all sweaty and droopy by the time someone consumes it.

Anyhow: the food manager as they are called who risks death to manager and protect the food from harm during its scary journey down the carriage aisles was asking people if they wanted any food.

However, instead of just speaking in a normal voice.

This food manager broke into song – a song he had made up about the food he managed.

Due to my shock all I remember is:

‘Buy a lion bar for 80p and hear it roar’ where he subsequently roared loudly….

lion1

I was scared for life – although it did bring a smile to my face.

If you ever get on the Leicester to Stansted train – you may be in luck. You might meet a man that manages food and sings.

Train rules:

As a result of the last three stories I have come up with some excellent rules when travelling by trains in Britain:

  1. Always try and find a seat – wonder up and down the corridors if necessary to avoid children taking selfies and fat men’s belly buttons
  2. Buy a fold up bike – this reduces the amount of bruising to other passengers
  3. Pack lightly for weekend trips – leaving more room for other people’s bags and people’s bums
  4. Do not sit near anyone that is drinking – safe yourself
  5. Do not listen to loud music – i frequently ask young teenagers ‘Do you want me to sing along? I can hear every word?’
  6. Read and mind your own business – if you don’t you could be engaged in awkward conversation
  7. If you come across a food manager – apply ear plugs
  8. Eat smelly food like Sushi and then no one will sit next to you
  9. Buy a first class ticket – then you will be alone as no one else sits there

OR DON’T GET ON A TRAIN AT ALL – I WARN YOU TRAVELLING BY BUS IN BRITAIN IS WORSE.

Lady on the train: What’s that matter? Have you never made love before? (Don’t Ride on Late Night Trains, 1975)