I managed to book two tickets for the same rail journey for Wednesday. When I tried to change one, I discovered that the admin fees were almost the same price as the ticket. Had I booked the ticket for the right day I’d have missed the train anyway as I’d booked it too early.
When I came to buy the new ticket there weren’t any cheap tickets. The first class ticket was cheaper than the standard class for a train that left 30 minutes later but was about 20 minutes quicker. A no-brainer. Or, so I thought.
The train crawled to Southampton and then waited an age. Had I not been sitting in the comfort of First Class trying to pencil one of my Chicassos* I’d have noticed.
I accepted we would have to pootle rather than hurtle and I thought – as I often do – about a man called Alexander who died at Potters Bar.
*A Chicasso: One of my doodles, of course!