Well and truly grumpy

I have no problem with a heap of snow or an iced-up railway line. In fact, I’m very happy for both those things to cause a little disruption and for us all to be bounced out of our routines for the duration. But I’m just not sure whether, since this little reminder of the mighty elements, it’s my equilibrium that’s been lost or Southern’s.

Last night a broken-down train – not ours – kept us waiting somewhere on the threshold of Lewes. The night before, two drivers failed to show up on time, which meant hearing about their progress across London and along from Brighton while waiting at Victoria and Haywards Heath respectively. And the number of red signals! I don’t think I’ve ever met so many.

And – another sign of disequilibrium – this week half the carriages on the 7.42 are snug and warm while the other half are downright cold. Of course we old-hands are trained to seek out the warm spots, but what about those who simply get on the first carriage they see?

So I’ve decided to call a halt to this practice of clutching at every benefit of every doubt. And yesterday, when I’d been deposited in Lewes at last, the thought of making my way up the hill and to the top end of town (usually just a part of the landscape of the day) presented itself as just one more slight to be borne. I treated myself to a taxi instead. And sitting here now – with the drafts and the cold just one carriage away; on schedule but not knowing whether an errant driver is lying in wait round the very next corner; making progress but living in fear of the next red signal – not even crossing the Balcombe Viaduct is enough to lift my spirits. So now you know: I’m well and truly grumpy.