Write about what you know – that’s the old adage, isn’t
it? Here we go then.
I’ve had cause to travel between the UK and mainland Europe
over the past couple of weeks for work.
For a start, what a lovely phrase that is, “between the UK and mainland
Europe”: the short twenty-one mile gap that separates the island and the
mainland and the infinite space that separates the UK from the rest of
Europe. Hackneyed and eye-roll inducing
sentiment I know but the longer I stay here the more I am aware that hackneyed
and eye-roll inducing is the constant state of being.
Anyway.
Here’s what I know. I
arrived back at Birmingham Airport on the Sunday night after the Commonwealth
Games had finished. At Birmingham New
Street station, I approached one of the platform food kiosks and asked for a
coffee. They were not serving any more
coffees because they were a few minutes from closing, and so no more
coffees. I didn’t get into a
conversation about what constitutes being open – and that perhaps the chain in
question may look to pay their staff for an extra half hour to ensure they can
serve their wares and then have time to clean up before their shift ended – and
went otherwhere to find a drink. This,
remember, hours after Birmingham had choreographed their welcome to the
Commonwealth…I freely admit I was four years early.
Down to the platform and on to the train. The carriage was strewn with rubbish: food
wrappers, newspapers, beer boxes, empty cups, cans, bottles. As the tannoyed voice indicated that people
should be sitting in their allocated seat, and that sitting in an unallocated
seat would be met with maximum penalty and possible imprisonment and
deportation – this is the second time I’ve heard this type of announcement on
the trains and you say over-reaction but anything is possible in this hostile
environment – three people were faced with sitting at a table full of empty
beer and cider cans and bottles. Full.
Beautifully, the table sat under a sign that read, “We want everyone to have a
great journey, so please consider others around you.”
The conductor arrived and checked tickets. I imagined that he might say something to the
people at the table – obviously not responsible for the rubbish sat thereon –
something like, “Thank you for sitting in your allocated seat, therefore
avoiding penalties, imprisonment and deportation. Once I’ve completed my ticket check, I’ll be
along to clear that up.” He did
not. Nor did he have that conversation
as he walked back through the carriage after having completed his ticket check
to ensure we were all in our allocated seating.
Another member of staff, with the refreshments trolley, walked past and
did not have that conversation either.
I disembarked, having picked up some of the rubbish to put
in a bin at the station stop, and asked the guard on the platform whether he
might be able to get a message to the staff on the train to clean up the
rubbish strewn throughout. “Ah, well,
that’s a Cross Country Train, you see.
We’re Great Western Railway, that’s nothing to do with us.” He said that as he picked up an empty can I’d
indicated that was sat in the doorway of the train. He advised me to complain on the
website. I think the train would have
reached its final destination by the time I’d been able to do that.
*
Last week, I was on a train from Frankfurt City out to the
airport. A lady got on with a
babe-in-arms and a toddler. The toddler
was in full melt down: completely beyond comfort and reason. Two older people tried to help with the
toddler, to no avail. Me and another
lady offered to help with the babe whilst the mother looked after the
toddler. Two members of staff came and
helped the mother move herself and her gear into a quieter carriage to help
sort herself and the toddler out. Yes,
there were obviously a few tuts and eye-rolls at the noise and tantrum but
there was an abundance of help too. In a
clean carriage.
I love those old adages.
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