Yeah, even just to go home.
I go to the end carriage furthest away as it’s usually quietest and my best chance of a seat.
Not today, even the ‘priority’ seats taken. I’m worn out, frustrated and I have to stand.
I can’t risk asking a lone women to move from ‘priority’ seats. I’m six foot tall man with nothing ‘obviously’ wrong with me.
I just gotta stand. The ticket examiner starts in the nearest carriage to Glasgow, which is the busiest and the one I try to avoid.
It’s rare they make it to me by the time I get to Paisley and if they do, there’s no point. I’m off in a minute.
I’m screaming inside. I’m trying not to melt down.
It’s my time versus someone else’s I’ve theoretically paid the same as them. They’re double-seating though.
I’m exhausted, done in. Tired, zapped. No better once off the train either. Sometimes I just need a break. A chance. A once.
Most times I just have to stand.