The Crying Scotsman
The GNER service from Edinburgh to Inverness got as far as Pitlochry last night when the rear engine stalled and wouldn't restart. We were told to "sit tight" until alternative arrangements could be made. I did just that. Until, that is, one of the train staff appeared on the platform, rapped his fist on the window and indicated with his thumb that I should join the other passengers in the moonlight. The only other person in my carriage was a young Japanese bloke and I had a bit of trouble explaining the situation to him. Mainly because he was reluctant to remove his iPod earphones.
So there we were, about forty people, shivering on the platform. We were told that the station facilities were closed but, not to worry, because the First Scotrail service would be along in "about ten minutes". Our crippled train then trundled slowly away into the darkness. Ten minutes later we were still on the platform. Twenty minutes later it was the same. After half an hour I could sense that the mood was turning ugly. These were no longer stranded passengers. This was a mob. It was time for leadership. Someone had to take charge.
But not me.
The woman standing next to me cleared her throat.
"Can I have your attention!" she announced, and there was immediate silence. She then explained in a clear calm voice that we were all now entitled to compensation. She urged us to retain our tickets and held out a copy of the form we would need to fill in if we wanted to see any money refunded. She observed that the train staff hadn't volunteered this information, nor had they seen fit to distribute copies of the forms.
Clearly this was a seasoned traveller and when she had finished her speech we all gave her a round of applause.
The First Scotrail train arrived twenty minutes later and, four and a half hours after I'd left Edinburgh I finally reached Inverness.
That's the same time that GNER say they can take you from Edinburgh to London. The route of the famous , they call it.
Ha Ha Ha.
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