It is 1233, a rumble signals the approach of the 1222 to Aberdeen. The windows flicker by my brain managing to make sense of the odd still

image, my head scans and eyes jitter, first quite rapidly then slowing, like the carriage of a typewriter that slows as the typist tires.

 

To my alarm the windows show a preposterous scene, I quickly land on the only two possible explanations. This is the 1222 from Seoul to Ho Chi Min, or some sort of world record game of Twister is being judged onboard.

 

I wonder if I have a seat and check my ticket, sure enough "27A" I glance up as from left to right ...L... ...M... ...N... 

 

Turning on my heel I run bag on shoulder coat flapping like a NY homicide detective behind me, 2 bannanas and banzai magazine slapping a dramatic Ta-too against my leg. With each carriage passed the fear of being left on the platform builds until I dive aboard, coach E.

 

Onboard there is rather a Carnival atmosphere. for a moment I hope that the game of tetris in Samsonite around my feet is only going on in the connectoins, then as I collapse to my knees in the 40 degree heat I see the patterns in pink, zebra and paisley, tessalate the length of the train.

 

I decide to make my assault down the alphabet before the train starts moving, I should be able to drop a few characters before I clear the platform. So I walk (like an Egyptian) long strides over those who have taken to the floor, quick foxtrots around pairs of lovers, frozen in the elbow embrace taken from the cotton eye joe, their noses in the latest thrillers. As I reach coach D I become aware of the micro communities established, like the ones you see in old pictures of the underground during rhe blitz, or in refugee camps. A ring of handbags define the boundries, their coulours represented by their decision to tie their jumpers round their waist, or from another clan to strip to the waist entirely, some from the top, others from the bottom.

 

Sweeping aside the dangling arms from those who have laid in the cargo shelves I make my way. But then! My achilees gives way, i have taken a blow from behind. As I lie there a large girl clearing a path with her case walks over me. I scramble to my feet and follow her like a roman behind his shield, plowing through the hoardes.

 

Broken, I decide to set up camp, acclimatise to the heat, before pushing on at Newcastle. I make friends with the 4 hipsters sat in 2 seats playing poker, and the large girl who nearly crippled me earlier. My bags and jacket between my knees. As I tell all my best twister jokes we contort as displaced travelers crowd surf past. Again 2 options stand before me, some sort of mission impossible scenario, or a platform dash at Newcastle. I feel the latter is my best bet.

 

Spilling onto the Geordie concrete, I sprint forwards ...C... ...B... ...A... as the train hisses itself free from It's breaks I Indianna Jones myself aboard. Two men in dark colours with blackend faces stir in my direction, "Help you?" One mutters, as I mutter back something about 27A I realise that without a shovel and hat this is not the carriage I am looking for.

 

A quick retreat and I am in the connection from B to C. This truly is the environment spoken about in hushed voices in the slums of coach F, air conditioning, light, tarquin in his poncho speaks to Sahara using a telephone! This train may not have a coach A, the fabled coach A may only exist on the train between Aberdeen and Elgin, I may never know. But I do know, that this will be my home. I pick a spot and stow my bag in the silent crisp atmosphere, careful smiles from those in jackets assist me. "Don't worry son, you can stay with us now."

 

Settled I am only disturbed by 3 rail workers carrying crates of bottled water rearwards before returning with balled selophane and scratched faces. Triumphantly I feel between my bannanas for a Dr Pepper, stood tall smiling at my new family I open it.

 

There is a hiss, a loud hiss, a hiss I have heard before, my stomach sinks as I grimace, the sharp sting of carbonated soda up my nose tells me my fears were well founded. A cocophony of shutting apple mac books only makes it worse. I assess the scene around me, without a word I collect my coat, my bag and my bannannas amd make my way back up the alphabet.

Are you on drugs?

My first use of the WTF button! :confused1:

lol its ment to be a story of his trip but wrote in a style like you would find in some story book

Tom wake up your having a dream :lol:

Tom go to your local rehabilitation centre, you're tripping out!

 

Fixed! ;)

Haha its all true! Never seen anything like it, I hope it was entertainment to some. I am sat in Aberdeen waiting for a connection trying to hide the Dr Pepper map of Africa, stained into my shirt behind Banzai magazine :ninja:

Haha its all true! Never seen anything like it, I hope it was entertainment to some. I am sat in Aberdeen waiting for a connection trying to hide the Dr Pepper map of Africa, stained into my shirt behind Banzai magazine :ninja:

 

Should of just said "ime on the train in a sweaty dirty shirt"...more simple:laugh:

I reckon you've been on the Buckfast!!

LMAO.

 

I think you're trying your hand at creative writing with the intention of submitting to a womans weekly publication ;)

 

Peter

:biggrin: well I don't twitter or anything I just write on here, if the community want to impose a 100 character limit or something on me the next chapter can be shorter!

 

Daffy, I had a bad trip on that stuff once, never again :lol:

I am one of these freaks that still read !

As such, whens the next installment ? part deux ??

 

Alan........

Partial to a read myself. Been known to use one of those mythical things only fondly remembered by the over 35's.

 

What they called again, oh ye. A book.

Partial to a read myself. Been known to use one of those mythical things only fondly remembered by the over 35's.

 

What they called again, oh ye. A book.

 

:rofl::rofl:

lol its ment to be a story of his trip but wrote in a style like you would find in some story book

 

LOL - yeah, just like those old US detective shows.... Here's one of mine; I called it "Spike Blammer" in homage to Micky Spillane's "Mike Hammer"

 

 

I was working on a case - it had to be a case as it was too small for a desk. Bored, I looked out of the window and locked eyes with a tall blonde broad - she must have been tall as I was on the 5th floor...

 

...Suddenly I was distracted by a tap on the door; so I got up and turned it off. After I decided to open the door, I was confronted by a leggy red-head. No hair, she just had a red head... She rolled her eyes at me, so I picked them up and rolled them back....

 

.....Later, she took me out to dinner, leaning across the table, she declared "My heart burns for you....!!"

 

"Case closed, Doll..." I replied..... "Your left boob is too close to the candle.....!!!"

 

 

 

.....\fin

 

 

 

Richard:whistling:

LOL - yeah, just like those old US detective shows.... Here's one of mine; I called it "Spike Blammer" in homage to Micky Spillane's "Mike Hammer"

 

 

I was working on a case - it had to be a case as it was too small for a desk. Bored, I looked out of the window and locked eyes with a tall blonde broad - she must have been tall as I was on the 5th floor...

 

...Suddenly I was distracted by a tap on the door; so I got up and turned it off. After I decided to open the door, I was confronted by a leggy red-head. No hair, she just had a red head... She rolled her eyes at me, so I picked them up and rolled them back....

 

.....Later, she took me out to dinner, leaning across the table, she declared "My heart burns for you....!!"

 

"Case closed, Doll..." I replied..... "Your left boob is too close to the candle.....!!!"

 

 

 

.....\fin

 

 

 

Richard:whistling:

 

LOL very good Rich and this thread is mad :w00t:

LOL very good Rich and this thread is mad :w00t:

 

LOL - cheers Gaz.... And would you believe I actually used that for part of my English Language O-level 28 years ago....:rofl:

LOL - cheers Gaz.... And would you believe I actually used that for part of my English Language O-level 28 years ago....:rofl:

 

Cheat lol I thought you dreamed this up just now :lol:

I got home late that night; very late.

What could I say to my wife? "Darling, I've been beaten up again"...

... let's face it, she's credulous as hell.

A punk stopped me in the street.

He said "You got a light, mac?".

I said

"No, but I got a dark brown overcoat."

I got home late that night; very late.

What could I say to my wife? "Darling, I've been beaten up again"...

... let's face it, she's credulous as hell.

A punk stopped me in the street.

He said "You got a light, mac?".

I said

"No, but I got a dark brown overcoat."

 

:lol:

Cheat lol I thought you dreamed this up just now :lol:

 

Hell, I still remembered it after 28 years, is typing it all from (hazy) memory not spontaneous enough....:tongue:

 

I got home late that night; very late.

What could I say to my wife? "Darling, I've been beaten up again"...

... let's face it, she's credulous as hell.

A punk stopped me in the street.

He said "You got a light, mac?".

I said

"No, but I got a dark brown overcoat."

 

PMSL....:rofl:

Love it Richard :)

 

I don't think my poem got much air time when I put it up last time...

 

http://www.300zx.co.uk/forums/showthread.php?177836-The-poem-of-the-petrolhead

Love it Richard :)

 

I don't think my poem got much air time when I put it up last time...

 

http://www.300zx.co.uk/forums/showthread.php?177836-The-poem-of-the-petrolhead

 

Great poem Tom :clap: How did I miss that !