Train times

What is it with British Rail that makes their trains never run on time?

I'm used to my train to work never arriving on time, but this morning was different. I had to take a later train as I was waiting for a guy from the garage come to assess the damage to my motor.

I took the 9.36am train from Streatham Hill, which left at 9.46am. Getting into Clapham at 10.00am meant I could take the 10.03am to Kensington Olympia and not be late. Only the 10.03 was now magically the 10.23am. Of course, this gave me time to try and get a rebate on train tickets.

Ascending to the platform at 10.20, and waiting until 10.28 the 10.23 suddenly became the "delayed". So... hopping on over to platform 2 to take the 3-car shuttle (why 3 cars, why?) the 10.35 became the 10.41am getting me to work just after 11am. Not bad for starting out 1h15m earlier.

Now I understand that the frequency of trains in and around the capital is something Toronto could only dream of, but if they're always going to be late or delayed or cancelled, where's the use in attempting to use them with any regularity.

Other shoe to drop

This past weekend didn't exactly go to plan. Friday night my parked car was stoved into by a guy who was rammed off the road.

So... my haircut planned for Saturday had to be cancelled, my motor's MOT this morning is off and hanging out with my mate in Brighton on Friday evening was definitely off.

All in all, this sort of thing makes you become a grown up rather quickly, as you have to deal with "claims departments" and police and complete strangers. All such fun.

Now three days after the event, all I can feel is deep embarrassment. It's taking all my fibre to actually admit to someone what happened. I don't know why, it wasn't even my fault. Not like I was caught drink driving or anything that would actually justify embarrassment.

Also, I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. Call it Catholic guilt, but I don't believe crap happens to people for no reason, and crap usually comes to the party with friends. Again, there's nothing you can really do about these sorts of situations, so I'm just steadying myself for the worst.

At least I got a partial rebate on train tickets I couldn't use a result of the situation AND I got to play Burnout 3 yesterday morning, so it's not been all bad.

Worlds Collide

Last night I had a strange case of worlds colliding.

The weather reports were of sub-zero temperatures, freezing rain, icy conditions and the usual winter malaise.

As I was out and about, I was a tad worried that the road would turn into an ice rink after I'd chipped the candy coating off my frozen in time car. Thus, I came to the conclusion that I'd be staying over in Sevenoaks, warm in the non-icy confines of my mates place.

Of course, none of the Canadian-style weather catastrophes happened. I went outside about 1am to survey the treacherous weather conditions and found little more than rain droplets on the windscreen.

Another case of extrapolating the worst that Canadian weather has to offer into an environment where those effects would hardly EVER be felt.

You can take the boy out of Canada....

Drat and double damn

Is it possible to big yourself up so much, you lose a job?

I always wondered that, and now I know it is.

You see I was going to a new position in a rival firm and embellished my achievements - not lied, mind you, but put more focus on smaller aspects of what I do in order to seem more hireable.

Well, I can tell you it didn't work. The firm in question, although they loved me and thought I'd be perfect fit, also thought I was overqualified for the role and believed the new position would result in me being bored senseless.

I tell you this - for the money they were offering, I would have gladly been bored.

Oh well.

Next time I should gauge the level of the job a little better.

We all live and learn.

What am I doing?

With every day that passes, the question of what I am doing with my life rears it head more and more.

Living in the UK, with all my friends and family having their lives happily pass before me doesn't exactly fill me with happiness.

I know, I know. Life is what you make it, the grass is always greener, etc.

I think the time I had in Sarnia is really affecting me. I just remember being so free and being able to hang out at mates' places at the drop of a hat, or enjoying a drink in a group. In London, a social life is such a task. Trying to make mates is a full time job, and not coming across as some desperate friendless feck is also not so easy. Don't get me wrong, I have friends, but not the abundance or... (is class the right word?) as the guys and girls I grew up with.

I guess it's the same with everyone.

The people you experienced things together with for the first time will always share a stronger bond with you than those you casually meet years later.

The time I went and got a fake ID could never be shared with a new friend, neither could tales of drunken Canada Day parties in my parents' old backgarden.

Maybe I should stop living in the past (you think?) and get on with living in 2005. Maybe? Who says I should? Sometimes I think I don't wanna grow up. I want the love of a nice lady, sure, but the idea of kids sends the willies down my spine - how expensive are they? can i guarantee they won't turn out to be drug addicts or jailbirds or Bart Simpson? I may be 32.5, but I still feel and act mid-20s... tops.

Life only gets harder and crappier as you get older.

Not sure of anything

My misery in London was bound to abate when I reached Toronto, right?

Well, no.

I've been here just over two weeks, and the novelty factor is fading rather quick. I'm almost longing to get back to my (relatively) friendless, meagre existence.

They say you can never go home, and although I smacked that idea on the head this week by travelling back to Sarnia, I do believe, that in another sense, that sentiment is correct. All my mates are growing up, getting married and having families, and I guess that leaves a lot less time for "hanging out".

Take tonight, my mate M invited me to a dinner for his wife C and we ate at this overpriced restaurant (you just keep telling yourself you're there for the company, not the fleecing).

The whole thing ended at around 10.

In the usual world, we would have reconvened at another venue to continue the festivities. Instead, as C is preggers, M and her went home, and the others also dispersed, leaving me with a mixed bag of emotions heading home.

None of these emotions were anger, mind you. I just felt that a piece of history, or whathaveyou died there, as I realised that now with my mates, it's going to be family and wives that come first ALWAYS.