My Adoring Public by Matt Ward

Brit Writers would like to welcome Matt Ward, an avid blogger : ) 

   I decided a while back, with the roads the way they are, that I would try and use the train as much as possible. This morning I jumped on a train from Slateford Station and was in the centre of Edinburgh within 13 minutes. For once I was impressed with the Scotrail service. A clean, tidy and quiet train and with what felt like aircon whirling around (was probably just a window open somewhere on the carriage), made this travel experience a pleasant one. My train was only stopping and not terminating at Waverley Station, so as we approached the platform, an orderly queue was forming. I was now standing with my ‘trigger’ finger at the ready, avoiding eye contact with the gentleman next to me, for he was my competition on ‘Who can push the button first’! There’s no real way of telling who managed to open the doors first, but for the benefit of this story, I won.

As the doors slid open, we were greeted by the line of passengers waiting to get on the train. I’m not ashamed to admit it, but for a split second, I pretended that I was a famous rock star turning up at sell-out gig, greeted by my screaming & adoring fans (We’ve all done it, right?). Unfortunately this wasn’t the case. The people who met us off the train didn’t appear to be the cheeriest of bunches and thought the best way of them getting on the train, was to stand preventing us getting off it. I’m not sure if they had thought this through properly or if this tactic had ever worked in the past? Perhaps they thought I was going to some how crowd surf my way off the train and along the platform, clinging onto my man-bag & laptop for dear life. Or if I was just going to just stand there and let them all charge straight for me. I don’t think they cared too much about me, so long as they got on this train before it departed. I did come up with the idea of joining forces with the man next to me and clothes lining everyone in our path, but I think he was still in the cream puff after losing our wee competition earlier. That would have been the most enjoyable option, but instead I just tensed my muscles (I’m built like a jockeys whip) and barraged my way through the masses, using my bags as shields to protect me from my adoring public.

I think I may have caught a few guys in the crown jewels with my laptop bag on the way through, but I wasn't hanging around to find out. I may have also heard one of those same gentlemen informing me that I required a haircut, but that could have just been my Dad’s advice ringing in my ears. Anyway, for me that was now in the past as I ventured onwards and upwards. Onwards to the always happy and smiley ticket conductors and upwards to a sun baked Princes Street, for another day as a leading contender in the ‘rat race’.

Matt Ward