As a rule guests to the control room are ushered past me to the more approachable and appealing members of the team. I don’t mind this at all, it upsets my aura to be too close to people that have abounding enthusiasm for the railway and for the nouveaux ways. Having not experienced the joys of further education I cannot see how the world of shite can be explained and improved upon by demographics and paradigms. The world of semantics is lost upon me and a powerpoint presentation is more likely to expire my interest than inspire it. So it was with some surprise when I got tapped on the shoulder by my Boss and asked if a guest could sit with me. Having eaten a reasonably hearty breakfast I didn’t feel in the mood for further sport but I tentatively agreed in a puzzled manner. Apparently a chap from the planning department fancied a go Control work and was considering applying for a soon to be created Uber Controller job. He seemed reasonably sensible and according to some of my colleagues was a good sort having worked in the office in the old days. He seemed popular with those that knew him and so I decided to take it easy on him and play nice. It wasn’t my fault that the world fell apart at exactly that point, it wasn’t a major incident just the combination of the endless list of minor ones all coming in together. I was quite simply deluged with issues and as I came up gasping for air, did I mention I was juggling some balls when the storm came? No? Well I was, anyway I came up for air with my balls falling all around me. I don’t think his view of the job recovered from that point and he left shortly after to consider if he would apply. I suspect it will be a while before I am used as an ambassador again.
By mid afternoon everything had settled down nicely. I took an opportunity to see what I could scavenge from my friends over at a Train Operating Company that share the control room. Last year they had tins of choccy’s, festive fruits, even little cans of their bosses own brand of cola, all donated by a loving higher management team. This year it appears they have fallen from grace, not even a rotten apple core to be found. Now I think most would agree they could do without the choccy’s but it must be a shock to them to become so unloved, so quickly. I can’t imagine what happened.
Before too long it was time to go home and the office wasn’t the only place devoid of the Christmas spirit, the roads seemed particularly hostile on the way home. Lots of angered road users, ripping out their spleens and waving them in an agitated manner at other road users heading to Christmassy decorated homes. I avoided the tunnels as something was clearly awry and diverted via Snow Hill. I was cut up by a S3 driver who seemed to have a problem with his middle finger and had someone blow his horn as I missed a nanometre gap whilst being prepared to watch an L plate motorcyclist get gathered by a car who was too busy swapping lanes to care about anyone. The learner made an excellent job of avoiding the accident but really must brush up on the technique of catching up and ripping the door mirror off the offending car. There is no way I would have let them get away unscathed when I had a bike. For the first time in a year I am missing my old Rat bike and the respect, or fear, that a matt black , loud chopped Mad Max style motorcycle brings. However just for the record, I own an old unreliable car, the value of which decreases by the minute based on the contents of the fuel tank. Never underestimate the lack of attachment I have for it when pushing your way past me, cutting me up, flipping the finger in your flashy new undamaged expensive car.
Anyway that’s me done for the night. I don’t have to get up early tomorrow so I may have a glass of vino collapso.
I will leave you with a picture of Bob my old bike