Living where we do, we have experienced major disruption at the hands of the new Tram Network. Not being able to park your car in your street may sound trivial. Build that up over a period of 9 months though. Then add the fact that the having the car outside the house is critical for us with a small child and add the further fact that the guys undertaking the work for the trams arrive on site at 6am every morning and have a shouted conversation the length of the street then you can probably see how the annoyance builds up.

Imagine my rage then when I stumbled round the corner from Lidl last night to see a fully constructed, replica tram at the top of my street full of ‘dignitaries’ quaffing champagne and patting themselves on the back for a sterling job well done. That’s champagne. Not tram pain. Tram pain is for those of us who have to live with the consequences of their decisions.

- Cheers lads. Mine’s a pint of Best.
- Oh, sorry Mr Palmer. I’m afraid you are not invited. Your name’s not down so you’re not getting in.

I’m starting to feel this is becoming the tram blog so I’ll hastily change the subject.

Chimpanzees on Segways.

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I can’t believe how many cars I’ve seen this morning with snow on the roof, even though there’s no snow to be seen in Edinburgh itself. Some of the outlying areas (presumably to the south of the city) must be like Lapland though. The real Lapland that is. Not that pishy funpark in the New Forest which has been blighted by controversy. Apparently even the Elves went on strike there after an impromptu ‘square go’ between two of their number. Elves fighting. I’d pay to see that.

It’s the sleeper train tonight. I can guarantee it’s going to be one cold, shoogly night. The only thing which consoles me is the thought of a warming cup of tea and breakfast somewhere near Euston in the morning before I head off and deliver my course.

Christ, I’ve been in business too long. I actually typed the word ‘deliver’ there without even thinking. Time for a ten year sabbatical? I wish. July next year will mark the completion of 20 years continuous employment for me. I don’t feel old enough to have been working that long.

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Ten hours on the train all in all, for the sake of a giving a two hour presentation seems a bit mad, but I quite enjoy London, even if it is only a fleeting visit. The sheer crush of the tube and the busy streets kind of bugs me but I must admit, I find the underground fascinating and really enjoy travelling on it.

On the train back to Edinburgh last night, the guy opposite me asked if he could have one of my napkins. This started a conversation where we discussed our respective reasons for being in London (he was visiting his elderly mother) and we had a good old chat about our jobs etc.

Problem was, the conversation started at York. With the best will in the world, two strangers on a train are going to struggle to keep the conversation alive for the remaining two and a half hours to Edinburgh. The desire just isn’t there. By the time Newcastle came we’d discussed everything from screen reader software to the lighthouse on the Isle of May.

My question is, at what point is it polite to return to your book or iPod? I didn’t want to be rude, but at the same time I wanted to relax. We ended up coming to an uneasy standoff where he went to the buffet car for a cuppa (very kindly offering to buy me one) and when he returned I was up to my ears in music on the iPod.

An awkward “nice to speak to you” rounded it off at Waverley station but it’s the modern travellers eternal question. All over the country, people spend their journeys to work trying to avoid vague acquaintances at bus stops just so they can have a bit of quiet time in the mornings rather than have to make inane small talk.

Personally I think we need to be more direct.

“Beat it you. I’m reading. Nice to see you though.”

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I’ve booked another two train journeys today. I’m on holiday from work next week but the two following weeks will see me spend the majority of my time on one train or another as I travel around the country giving training courses or presentations.

I don’t mind the train. It’s so much less hassle than flying these days. You are virtually down to your boxer shorts with the contents of your laptop bag scattered all over the security desk being swabbed before you get through to the departure lounge. Quite irritating.

Two of my journeys are overnight sleeper trains. Regular readers will know the love/hate relationship I have with the caledonian sleeper. The love aspect is the convenience. Spending a night away from home when you have a young child is not ideal and the sleeper allows me to avoid that inconvenience by still being able to go home, spend some time with the family and then head out of Waverley at midnight, using the dead time to travel and sleep at the same time. This is preferable to being away from 4pm in the evening, flying to London and then tubing it to the hotel.

On the flip side though, it’s no privilege to pay £152 for a ridiculously narrow single bed in a room which resembles a cell on a prison ship in the 1970′s. Quite often the tap doesn’t work, so you can’t even have a wash in the morning and you spend the whole night waking up with every jolt and clank on the line.

Never mind, I’ve got a week of no work to help me get used to the idea.

In other news, I received a letter yesterday from the Scottish Book Trust, telling me that the short story which I submitted to the ‘Days Like This’ project had been selected by the judging panel to appear in a book of the same name to be published early next year.

Enclosed in the envelope was a contract (in duplicate) which stated that I would be paid £10 and receive a free copy of the book. I had to sign the contract to state that I was handing over sole publication rights to the Scottish Book Trust and that I understood that I was not eligible for further royalties from sales of the book.

I’m quite chuffed really. I submitted the story for a laugh really on the basis that I was really getting into writing as a result of this blog. It will be good to see my story in print.

Have a good weekend.

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