Spare A Thought For Bubba
This may sound crazy, but I usually enjoy train travel. Well that's assuming you can get a seat and it's not next to those three guys competing for the title of Scotland's Drunkest Loudmouth. Otherwise the train journey gives you a chance to catch up on some paperwork and, in my case, listen to CD copies of recent radio programmes.
My journey to Inverness and back was not the highlight of my week. The Thursday night train from Glasgow was one of those weird services that splits at Perth and where the last two carriages are uncoupled while the rest of the train goes on to Aberdeen. You need your wits about you if you don't want to end up in the wrong place. Also, if you're sitting in the Inverness section, you don't get the option of a trolley service for drinks and snacks. The train operators must think there's an obesity problem in the Highlands. Either that or they believe that Aberdeen-bound passengers need fattening.
You must also make sure you have the right kind of ticket. This is tricky when you work for the ´óÏó´«Ã½ because we're all obliged to book the cheapest possible fare. There's a fancy online service that helps you do this. It worked a treat for me on Monday night when I got a £10 ticket from Edinburgh to Aberdeen. Of course I had to travel at a specific time of day and only on one of those vulgar red trains that Richard Branson is always promising will be travelling at the speed of light by the year 2012.
Tonight, on the other hand, I've muffed it. The ticket inspector tells me that I've bought a Super Saver instead of a simple Saver and it doesn't allow me to make my return jounrey to Glasgow on a Friday. Not unless it's a bank holiday or the King's silver jubillee or something. He lets me off with a warning but tells me that the inspector who comes on at Perth might not be so lenient. Naturally, I spend the next couple of hours worrying about this. I can see myself being escorted off the train in handcuffs, taken to Perth Prison and sharing a cell with someone called Bubba who once forgot to return a library book.
Mind you, there's no danger of us reaching Perth in the near future. There's a signalling problem at Pitlochry and everything on the track is delayed. Fellow passengers who had hoped to make connecting services to Edinburgh are being given ten minute updates on how they might have to get a bus from Stirling. At least I can stay on the train until we reach Glasgow, whenever that might be. I unfold my laptop and do some work.
It's been a good day in Inverness. Radio Scotland's senior producer there is Pennie Latin and she's been developing some new conversation formats, including the current series presented by Larry Sullivan called Posh. We talk about plans for a grand finale to our SoundTown project in Elgin and some editorial issues surrounding a forthcoming documentary called The Joy of Smoking. I'm bound to get into trouble for that one.
I'm also here to get some reaction after a recent internal survey of ´óÏó´«Ã½ staff. I've been collating this from production teams across Scotland and most of the comments have been fair and constructive. Everyone wants more feedback about the programmes they make and more opportunities to share ideas and learn about new technology. On the train I look through the e-mails from other teams and I see one acerbic comment about ´óÏó´«Ã½ managers living a "nine-to-five" existence. I look at my watch. It's 8 O'Clock and we've just inched past Gleneagles. I call Mrs Z. on the mobile and tell her I'm running late.
"What time will you be home?" she asks.
I try to work it out. It'll be nearer 9 O'Clock by the time we reach Queen Street, then an Underground train to Hillhead, walk up to the ´óÏó´«Ã½ to collect the car and then the drive home. Might still have time for a quick game of hide-and-seek with the Zedettes before bedtime.
Unless, of course, I'm spending the night with Bubba.
