Last weekend, I went North. Back to my roots, as it were, in West Yorkshire. Somewhere around Sheffield on the M1 I always get that warm, fuzzy feeling, the kind you get just before going to bed :) I was heading to Leeds, my favourite city in England.
The journey began boringly enough (apart from the drunk woman abusing the driver at The Hard) but at the services in Daventry there was a kerfuffle from the youngest passengers. During our 15 minute scheduled stop, one of the chavlets was dumped by her boyfriend. By text. Harsh but not entirely unsurprising considering how mental she was. Following 10 minutes of tantrum in the middle of the car park, she was refusing to get back on the coach! The driver, knowing there are some National Express guidelines for dealing with psychotic teenagers, tried everything from bribery to threatening to leave her on the M1. Eventually, her friend managed to convince her that a service station is not the best place to spend the night and the journey recommenced.
This blog is mainly going to be about coach journeys, so I shall continue with the travelling tales and focus on the journey home. My Leeds experience can wait for a further blog.
Victoria Coach Station can only be described as a collection of the lowest life forms gathered in a stiflingly confined space. Still, at least there are sharps bins in the loos, just in case you decide to jack up whilst waiting for the 431 to Penzance! Plus, a pigeon flew in my face which made me drop coffee all down my jumper!
Why is it that I seem to have nutters gravitating towards me like a fly to shit? The man diagonally in front of me had a blatant addiction to Vicks nasal inhaler, shoving it up his snout every 30 seconds for about 70 miles. He also sported the ultimate "man in his 50s" combo: hideous combover; faded green jeans; brown hiking boots; beige fleece and a bottle green padded gilet...work it baby! Even his chewing annoyed me, being that he insisted on biting off two mouthfuls every time and resembled a cow chewing cud...yuk!
I did, however, come across the coolest nun in christendom. She sat opposite me and was checking her Facebook on her Blackberry. Is this now standard-issue equipment for the nun about town? I wish I knew what her username was, I'd go add her!
Having been stuck in Wandsworth for just over an hour in rush hour, it was a blessed relief to see the A3. Nine and a half hours on your butt is just not fun and I was sooooooooo happy to be returning to Vinka Towers! Still, my first long-haul coach trip is now under my belt so here's to the next excursion. Happy motoring to one and all :D
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