An all nighter on the train! Ringo's tale

My friend Ringo* has been telling me about his nightmare night onthe trains... even as he was telling me, I was compelled to think that this sorry tale would make good blog, so, people, here it is!

After work he and a few work colleagues went for a beer in a Waterloo pub - Ringo's deaf and as always, the deaf crowd ended up having a good old hand natter, which stretched on through the night!

Soon, one drink had turned into six! Before he knew it the night had rushed by, and Ringo ended up rushing to Waterloo, then on the Northern Line to Euston - just, and only just - getting to Euston in time to get his overland train to Harrow and Wealdstone, where he's crashing with a friend, an impatient friend by this time...

Relived was he to be on his train, so relieved in fact, that he decided to take a brief nap, waking up as the stops went by.

The next thing Ringo remembers is being woken up by a guard... apparently it had taken the guard a while, since he looked really anooyed by the time he woke. Ringo couldn't understand a word the guard was saying. The guard became more and more agitated. It was at this point that Ringo caught sight of the sign.

It read Northampton.

Next scheduled train back to London? 4.30. Within minutes Ringo was being bundled out of the train station, the doors locked behind him by the guard. By now one drink in the pub had turned into an all-night journey up and down Britain's rail network.

To try and pass the time, Ringo ventured into Northampton town centre to try and find some food. Settling on a Turkish Kebab joint, Ringo explained his story to the owner, who burst out laughing. The joviality did not last long, however, as group of foul-mouthed chavs (Ringo's description) soon came in, making him more than a little nervous with a few bitter, prolonged stares. He decided to leave.

























Venturing back to the train station he found it was 4.15. The joy!

Fifteen minutes later, he ventured onto the train, relived to get some rest at last, Ringo found himself on comfortable chairs, with a warmly heated carriage giving him respite from the cold... You can guess what happens next...

He falls asleep again. And wakes, eyes half open, to find himself looking at the sign for Harrow and Wealdstone. What luck! Yay! Ringo jumps up and bolts for the door -

But they close. In his face. The train speeds on. To Wembley.

Details get patchy here, but Ringo ended up getting a bus (somehow, because he doesn't understand the bus system) which twisted its way to Harrow and Wealdstone in time for him to get to sleep. By this time, it was nearly 7am. An hour after settling into a warm bed at the end of a night which started with only the promise of a solitary cold pint, his alarm clock goes off. It's 8am.

Shattered, he comes to work. He's s currently sitting at the desk next to me in the office. Hands touching the keyboard, head bowed. His eyes are flcikering, his head nodding. He's likely to be asleep very shortly. Hope no one realises.

The moral of the tale? When out for one drink, keep it that way!

* name has been changed to protect reputation.