For the past few weeks it’s been hot and sunny in the morning when I go
to work, so I generally just wear a shirt and trousers – not bothering
with a jacket.
Nine years I’ve been living in Newcastle. During that time I’ve seen public transport prices rocket.
This morning it was overcast and windy so I wore my jacket.
And being the good little citizen that I am I’ve refused the urge to just walk on to the Metro without buying a ticket.
Today’s ticket went straight into my jacket pocket in the same slot it always goes into.
During that time I’ve had my ticket checked a sum total of precisely no fucking times at all.
It was an extra expensive “Day Rider” ticket because at lunch time I
had to travel further down the line to hand in a job application a town
and a half away.
When I got to the North Shields Metro Station (for such it was that I
was travelling to) I saw a gang of large people wearing official orange
When I got to work it was sunny and bright and hot so I hung my jacket up on its appointed hanger and promptly forgot about it.
They were stopping all passenger on their way out and checking their tickets.
Recently, during the warmth, I’ve been storing my ticket in my shirt pocket.
But today, on the only day I
have ever been on the Metro and had my ticket checked, my ticket was in
its old winter place in my jacket pocket, and my jacket was hanging on
it’s appointed hanger two or three miles away.
At the time of going to press, the website above is advertising the
special new expensive penalty fare of twenty whole English pounds.
In the cold light of text the moral indignity of my position
doesn’t come across quite so well as it should, and because I’m using
the rtf online editor the normal html linkage that I’m used to isn’t
working. (I’ve just discovered that re-editing the post brings back the html. So back in goes the code. Why the “insert link” button didn’t work I don’t know…)
But anyway, besides being screwed over for money that I’d already paid,
the place I was meant to hand the form into wasn’t actually anywhere
near its advertised position. Hardly surprising given that it’s a
government run institution. Once I’d found my way across this
town I’d never been to before and opened the door into the
building’s foyer I was almost overcome by the stench of a thousand
locker rooms and male toilets.
Then on the way back the Metro took twenty minutes to arrive at the station making me late back at work for the afternoon.
I’m doing well, how are you?