King Juicy And The Excited Teenager
By the time the Kings Cross to Inverness train reaches Perth, the passengers who boarded in London are either asleep, drunk or far too excited for their own good. You walk into the carriage feeling like an unexpected character in an Agatha Christie play. Tables are strewn with empty coffee cups and discarded newspapers... and that's not the only thing that's trashed.
"So this is King Juicy" said the girl with the empty cider can as she flagged down the drinks trolley and asked for a replacement.
"No it's Perth," said trolley man, "and you mean Kingussie." He pronounced it as "kin-oosie"
the way they do around here.
"No, no, that's wrong," said the girl, "it's King Juicy with a hard 'k' , you're saying that with a 'c'. You're mixing it up with Carnoustie."
The trolley man wasn't in the mood for banter and you could tell he didn't take kindly to a London lass telling him how to pronounce Highland place names. But he sold her another cider.
I always enjoy the last few minutes of this journey into Inverness, because that's when some of the passengers get really excited. You can spot those people who have never been this far north before because they start quizzing people about taxis and hotels.
I do my bit to spread cheer by telling them that the hotel they have booked is within walking distance of the station. In Inverness, most things are.
But this enthusiastic atmosphere always reminds me how lucky I am to live where I do. Especially toinight when I heard an English teenager phoning her friend and announcing loudly:
"I'm in Scotland! How cool am I?"
She soon found out. It was five below zero when we stepped onto the platform.
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