Water, Burritos, and Train Drivers chatting in Selby

So, I was in London yesterday.

The day started off with a touch of bloody-mindedness.  Before getting the train I stopped in at WH Smith to grab a bottle of water.  I selected my favoured bottle (the cheapest one I could find, which was fairly small - good to put in my bag), and went to the checkout to pay.  The guy at the checkout, kindly trying to save me some money, advised me that the bottle of water would be £1.49, and I could buy a copy of the Telegraph for £1.40, which came with a free, bigger, bottle of water.

I'm afraid my bloody-mindedness reared its head at this point, because:
a) I had already spent several seconds of my life choosing a bottle of water, and I didn't want that time to have been wasted, and;
b) I don't read the Telegraph.

I don't actually have anything against the Telegraph, except that it's a broadsheet i.e. really big when you open it, which is fine at home on a weekend when you can spread it over a large table, but totally useless when you're under some sort of space restriction (like being on a train).

The train journey both ways was fine, I got some work done which was good, the meeting in London was useful and interesting (although for some reason there was a toilet roll jammed between two of the legs supporting my table - I never did work out why), and, most importantly, I got to King's Cross station in time to get a burrito.

There's a place called Benito's Hat at Kings Cross station in London, I understand that they have a number of places open across central London but I've only ever experienced the one at Kings Cross. The food is absolutely excellent with the burritos being the best I've ever tasted - whenever I see burritos on the menu at places I'm eating I always try them, but they're never as good as the ones at Benito's Hat.

(In fact in general Kings Cross is a great place to get fed, I'd recommend Wasabi and Leon too)

I also got a free bottle of Lipton's iced tea from someone them handing out on the way to the train, so I was very pleased.

An excellent way to start a train journey.

On the way back, one of the stations stopped at was Selby.  Selby is a town roughly in the middle of Yorkshire, situated such that you can probably get to most cities within the county from Selby within an hour.  It has some decent shows on at the Town Hall, and I bought a car from Selby.  That's pretty much everything I know about the place.

Actually, there is one other thing about Selby.  At Selby train station, the train drivers stand outside their trains and chat.

I don't know why this is so remarkable, but it is.  I never see train drivers out of their trains just chatting anywhere else.  At smaller stations the trains never stop, and I guess at bigger stations the drivers perhaps have a break room or somewhere that they go when taking a break?  I have absolutely no problem with them having a break - indeed I doubt that it is up to them anyway, it'll be that the train has got to Selby (probably from Leeds, stopping at all the little villages on the way), and it isn't due to return towards Leeds for a while.

Travelling on trains

I travelled on a train last week.

The train journey from London to Hull is always a little uncomfortable if you're heading out of London around 5pm, when what seems to be the worlds population leaves the capital to return to their homes.

I love that you can book seats on a train.  I love getting in my booked seat.

I hate it when someone sits in my booked seat, because I never kick them out, but instead lurk nearby, frowning for several hours.  And it gives me a headache.

The other thing I hate is when you're on a long journey, and someone sits next to you.

I don't mean to be anti-social (well, maybe I do) but I like my leg room, and usually the only way to get sufficient leg room is to sit at an angle, with your legs over in the legroom of the adjacent seat.

After about two hours on a train, with my legs crammed into an insufficient space because of an inconsiderate soul boarding the train at Peterborough and sitting in the seat next to me (just because he'd reserved it too), my thoughts went as follows:

1. My legs ache.
2. Maybe I could pretend to go to the toilet, just so that I can walk up and down the carriage and stretch my legs.
3. Damn, the toilet engaged sign is lit.  I can't do that because I'd have to wait outside the toilet for whoever is in there, then pretend to go to the toilet, and it'd just take too long.
4. My legs ache.
5. Where are we anyway?
6. Please say that the next station is Doncaster, although I know it's going to be bloody Grantham, it's okay, I can wait, it's not a problem, I can manage-
7. IT'S F*$*ING DONCASTER, YES, IT'S DONCASTER!
8. Get up, person in the seat next to me.  That seat is only reserved until Doncaster.  You need to get up now.
9. Get up.
10. Up.
11. GET UP.
12. Yes! He's up I'll stand up too AHHH cramp!

One last comment - the train that I was on, which I believe was the East Coast Main Line, had a door which you had to open by pushing open the window, leaning out, and turning the handle on the outside.  Why? The vast majority of train doors have a nice little button you press to activate.  Even my fairly basic Vauxhall Agila has doors with handles on the inside.  I'm fairly certain that a door of this complexity would defeat me, and I'd either miss my stop or fall out of the window.