I have travelled around the world, decoded foreign bus schedules, made it through a labrynth of airports and even mastered the Russian metro system, yet on Thursday it took me 6 hours (including a rather stressful period during which I was locked on a First Great Western bus) to travel 200 miles in my own country.
After changing at Redhill, and again at Reading (which, to be fair, I was expecting) I boarded the train for a final time and settled down for the usually straight forward journey to Bristol.
Upon our arrival in Swindon I only half listened to the announcement that politely informed me I must "change here for Chippenham, Bath Spa and Bristol Temple Meads" before the full meaning of the words sunk in.
Begrudgingly, I hauled myself from my seat and stumbled on to the platform to be directed to a bus. "Does this bus go all the way to Bristol?" I enquired. "Yes it does" replied the conductor.
As there were only three of us on the bus (by this time it was quite late in the evening) I waited patiently while the other passengers disembarked at Chippenham... followed shortly by the driver. 'That's odd', I thought. Normally they say something if we're stopping for a while, unease seeping into to the pit of my stomach as I walked towards the front of the bus.
The door was locked. The place was deserted and the driver had disappeared. Frantically I began pushing the controls, desperately trying to find the horn but succeeding only in finding the indicators. Having reached the point where I couldn't decide whether to laugh or cry I took a deep breath and eyed the emergency lever by the door. I pulled it tentatively. Nothing happened. I tried again, this time yanking it hard and the door swung open. It wouldn't close behind me but by this time I didn't care. I was free! Free!
Free to wait another forty-five minutes for the next 15 minute train ride back to Bristol.
Come on guys, surely something wrong with public transport in Britian when citizens find systems in foreign countries easier to master?
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