In conclusion, fuck you Arriva, "best rail operator in the country."

Feel free to skip this entry. It is mostly rant, rant, rant, against the world in general and those fucking bastards at Arriva in particular. Argh. In the morning, I was late. I don't mind being late. Not in the slightest. It's not as if school is somewhere I want to be. But it was annoying to reach Freshfield station and read a notice that said there had been a power failure overnight, and so no trains from Formby to Southport.

So out I trot, and beg my mother please please give me a lift to Formby station. And I caught the train from there, and actually wasn't all that late.

The evening was a different story. I actually got let out early - I was on my way home by three thirty. I was expecting the trains to be fixed so I could be home by four. But no. No, no, no. Firstly, the power failure was still in existence and I was going to have to get off at Formby. The trains were half-hourly and late. But I persisted, waited in the increasing cold and dark, and gladly got on the train when it came, planning to get off at Formby, get the Formby circular and be home safe and sound if later than planned.

They halted the train at Hall Road. Another problem, this time a failed train at (where else?!) Formby. They yelled, "All change!" and everyone had to troop off. The train stayed a moment, then reversed and went off back down the line. There was an annoucement to the effect of, another train is on the way. Sit down and wait.

I waited. And waited. And waited. And the level crossing gates descended and the train came. Doors opened. I got on and perched myself by the door. And waited. And waited some more.

"All change!"

I could have screamed. They threw us all off, and the guards and driver emerged looking just as confused as everyone else. And then there came another announcement. The power failure had been fixed, but no rail-replacement bus service is forthcoming. The failed train is in the way.

I rang home. The landline is broken. I rang my mother. She forgot her phone. I rang Pedar. He's doing late-night Caesareans tonight. I rang Becca. She wasn't home yet.

That time I could have cried. It was cold, and dark, and the station was full of hundreds of very angry people, and the train people didn't know anything and there weren't any buses, and argh. There was a slightly doolally man behind me yelling about "damn Tories" and "it's never been the same since Margaret Thatcher" and I couldn't bring myself to inform him we have a Labour government.

And then, like magic, things happened. A(nother) train came in, we all got on, hundreds of us, and I held my breath. There was another announcement. "This train is calling at all stations to Southport!"

A ragged cheer. And so I came home. It took me two hours. The journey is seven-and-a-bit miles.

And in writing that, I missed out the events of the day. Not that there were any. Thursday, so all Politics - for the Political Awareness module today, we had a visitor. He was from Sefton Council, very mild-mannered and nervous and extremely boring, but he can't be blamed for that when his subject matter was so boring to begin with. Involved library opening times and Wheelie bins. I wasn't really listening.

Mrs Barry cornered me today. "We have a sword!"

We do, too. It's all shiny and perfect for Gandalf. A gift from Mrs Myring. And I was also cornered by Julie and Nichola - "Harry Potter soundtrack!" - and Rola - "Eeyore!"

This thing is really taking over my life.

And to finish with, a to-do list you can ignore:

• Politics preparation; choice of AS question.
  
• English text transformation; AS question.
  
• Revise for Biology mock AS module.
  
• Manifesto for Political Awareness.

I need chocolate. I'm sure there's a Cadbury's selection box here somewhere...

Few things...

...now I'm in a sort of better mood. Have got some work done, for one thing. Not much, but some. Have remembered another nice detail about today - contrary to expectations, I did not fuck up my Chemistry mock. Got 85%, an A, which will do.

In other news, amchau is my new heroine. You remember my theory about Harry Potter and his possible relationship to Ponder Stibbons? Well, she has one, too. To quote:

"Ponder Stibbons is Harry Potter grown up. Or, quite possibly, Harry and Neville's child. Yes, I'm sure of it. Harry and Neville have wild crazy sex before the final battle with Voldemort. Harry fights, Neville tries to, but his wand is broken and the spell to transport Voldemort... err... away doesn't work-- instead, it flips Neville (now pregnant) along the Mobius Curve and in Ankh-Morpork, where he gives birth to a child with some wizarding ablities, and then dies of shock, leaving Ponder in the care of UU.

Hex (the computer-- of course) connects to a mysterious universe-wide internet, and discovers this; and then sets up a link between Ponder and Harry, who has since married Draco Malfoy.

They hop through a portal to the Disc, and there embark on madcap adventures which may also involve Vetinari (who finds a strange amount in common with Draco), Carrot (who quite likes Harry), and also the Librarian (who has met Hermione through L-space a couple of times)."

She goes on to say:

"Am-Chau has, in a sudden fit of insanity and the third person, started writing this. She'd love to have a co-writer or someone else's attempt or a beta reader, or all three, and also she wants a pony."

And following that:

"For your infomation, I should probably mention that the above is true. Even the bit about the pony. So far, Harry and Ron have been abandonded to fight for their lives, and Neville is in Mossy Lawn's room, throwing up. So you know."

I do like Ponder Stibbons.
And Mossy Lawn.
But amchau most of all.

That is everything; we now resume normal service.

Actually, a regional dialect meme.

( Originally posted in tygermoonfoxx's journal )