Another delightful train journey home this evening. When I got on, I couldn't find a seat. Eventually, I squeezed next to a chap on one of the double seats near the door, which are always 45 degrees to all the others. How odd, I couldn't move. It wasn't designed for a European build, let alone a Pasifica one.
I turned to the guy next to me "Is it me, or did this train shrink in the wash?". I then attempted to knit and managed to entangle my needles in the bag strap of the youngster sat at an angle to my right. Not deterred, I tried the Shetland way of knitting, one needle jabbed firmly under the armpit. When it came to handing over my ticket, I almost kebabed myself.
My better half told me this evening that our local rail company was so desperate to get new rolling stock, they acquired old underground trains, which would explain the lack of space and the WWII camaraderie. The rocking and clunking of the train on the track gave me nauseous flashbacks to the Northern Line.
Still, they are newer than our current ex-Hungarian Railways rolling stock and the 1940s carriages which have been recommissioned for service again from the museum.
Welcome to retro NZ.
1 comment:
Ah the joys of train travel, not quite the Orient Exptess!
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