Paying for the privilege

I must print a retraction and publicly apologise to Brangelina who are, apparently, still living in wedded bliss, making yesterday's post ever so slightly libelous.  It appears that my source was completely falsifying information - just more media hype cooked up by some bogus reporter, which is a shame for me but good news for the multicultural platoon of Pitt children.  I think.  Brad, if you are reading though, you just let me know when you're ready for a real woman (one with  jelly belly, droopy boobs and stretchmarks).  I'll be waiting.

Birmingham today then.  Started out badly when I woke up ten minutes before the usual train left the station.   I desperately needed a shower so ended up getting a later one and having to skuttle in to my lesson twenty minutes after it had begun.  If I had known however quite how tedious the topic was going to be I would have considered being a whole day late.  Whereas most students have had the benefit of picking their optional units, tailoring the course to their interests/area of expertise, I am  having to attend whichever sessions fit with my time frame.  I went in to the lesson this morning with absolutely no clue about the subject matter.  Turns out it was Audit.  Implementing Auditing Procedures to be precise.  All I can say is its no wonder Auditors have a reputation for being dour faced and miserable.  

By three thirty in the afternoon I was literally smacking myself round the face desperately trying to keep my eyes open.  For a second I put my head in my hands and allowed my eyelids to close; a huge mistake as the next thing I remember was waking with a start to the feel of dribble trickling from my tongue. Might have been overlooked had I not been sitting on the front row.  Hopefully the tutor will just think I am 'special needs', which I feel isn't far from the truth.

Incidentally celebration is in order as found out I passed last week's test with full marks.  Told you I am good, even with the dribble stained chin.

So paying for emptying one's bladder... something I might expect to do in Harrods but not in dumpsville Birmingham.  Got to the train station in the evening only to find my train cancelled.  Decided to visit the loo but found that New Street charges 30p to pee. Or poo.  Maybe if I had actually needed the latter I would have thought this was reasonable economy, after all 30p or a new pair of pants, I'd pay the 30p anytime.  But I didn't need a poo (because women don't do that, ever, nor burp or break wind) and 30p for what I knew was only going to be a pathetic trickle just seemed extortionate.  In the end I decided to go back out of the Station and find a free toilet in the shopping centre.  After walking to what felt like the other end of the earth I discovered that the next nearest toilet was still charging, but only a 20p entry fee.  As this now seemed like great value for money I paid and went in.   It did occur to me that were I to carry on looking for public loo's across Birmingham I could eventually beat the system (admittedly might have to walk to  Smethwick) but by this time the trickle was starting to feel more like a tidal wave.

You'd think that for a charging facility there would be small luxuries included like, I don't know, say toilet paper, soap and loo seats but alas not so; it was an absolute pit.  Urine soaked floors, skid marked U bends and ultraviolet lighting so that I couldn't even shoot up to escape the horror.  Most disappointing.

But not as disappointing as the train journey home.  Like I said, the earlier train was cancelled so already there's a problem - the 4.50pm passengers are now joining the 5.26pm passengers to create double the volume of riders.  And what do London Midland Rail do counterbalance this crisis?  They halve the number of carriages on the next train.  Obvious really.   I have never before experienced the mass panic of 500 commuters trying to fit in to a vehicle designed for half their number, nor do I wish to experience such traumatic events ever again.  Pulverised sardines springs to mind.  I was the very last person to get on amid protest from the Conductor who was stood at the door telling me to get off.  In his words "Madam if the doors cannot close you will have to alight the carriage and wait for the next one".  My response was that of a midwife during the final stages of labour.  Puuuuush - directed at my fellow passengers who all clearly hated me but could see I was not going to back down.  So we squeezed in together.  My face in an armpit and my bum on some girl's suitcase.   Don't think I have ever been so hot in all my life. 

All through the journey though I could only think of the Holocaust.  Yes I know my mind wanders.  I have read so many accounts on the subject of 'the Final Solution' but one of the most poignant which has always stayed in my head, was the method in which prisoners were transported.  Crushed in to cattle/goods carriages with no room to move, no light, no toilets, no water, no food.  And not simply for a few hours.  Sometimes for weeks on end.  Many died in transit, especially the weaker ones like the elderly, young children and babies.  I can't imagine how horrendous that would have been.  Sometimes I wonder if part of my mental challenges aren't because my brain is filled with such imagery, but then it also helps me to keep my own inconveniences in perspective.

Regardless of how my moods fluctuate and the relationship issues I encounter, I know that I lead a very blessed existence and have some of the most amazing people in my life who I am genuinely grateful for.   So tonight as I lay my head down in my beautiful warm bed, I will try to spare a thought for those who genuinely suffer, and think about what I can do to make my part of this world a better place.