Toots ran down the stairs of the dingy station at Clapham Junction in full fledged panic mode. She swore as she looked at the digital clock in bold square numbers across the other side of the ticket barriers. "Fuckkkk, I cannot miss this train," she thought as she pulled down at her bum shorts in a bid to preserve her modesty as she sprinted towards platform 5. This was the third time this month that she had to change trains due to engineering works this summer and she was not a happy bunny. It had taken her 3 changes in train to get to Clapham and she still had one more train to get to Putney. As she arrived finally arrived at the platform, the bored train guard standing next to an empty train quietly muttered something to the train driver who nodded and indicated to the doors. "This train is no longer in service," the train guard shouted as the train doors prepared to close.
For a split second, bile rose from her stomach as Toots feared her worst nightmare on a Saturday morning was about to unfold. The railway weekend engineering were famous for last minute changes in plans and the offering of alternative bus replacement services. "How long would it take to get to work at this rate," Toots wondered. She looked up at the digital information board hanging in the middle of the platform from two strange looking corrugated iron panels. "No info present at this time," read the message which was steadily making the rounds through a conveyor style grid on the board.
She quickly pulled out her phone to check how long it would take to get to work by cab and the price. Her almond shaped eyes widened when she saw the cost of a cab. "No fucking way am I paying 100 quid from here to Putney," she swore under her breath. Getting increasingly frustrated, she walked up to the train guard who was now having a full blown conversation with someone else at the end of a walkie talkie. She could only make out the end part of the conversation "...being diverted to Tooting."
"Excuse me, please could you tell me when the next train to Putney will be arriving?"
The guard looked up, irritated from having to pause his conversation. "There are currently no trains from this station to Putney until 12:05. You are better off either taking the replacement bus service outside the station or taking the fast train to Vauxhall and getting the 87 bus to Putney."
Toots face began to form a scowl as she heard "no trains."
She thanked the train guard and turned on her heels. At this rate, she'd be a grandmother by the time she got to work and Sally the diabolical witch of an HR assistant would have a field day gossiping behind her back. Pulling out her Samsung smart phone from her long-strapped body bag, she immediately began typing in the Google search bar. "Replacement bus times from Putney station." A series of results popped up and her purple nail polished finger clicked on the National rail website link. The next screen showed the replacement bus times. "Urgggh, this is fucking unbelievable," she rolled her eyes. Her oval face increasingly marred by frustration at the 40 minutes it would take for a journey that would normally be 5mins via train. Muttering to herself inwardly whilst waiting for the National rail app to load, she vaguely heard a voice say "excuse me" a few times before she realised it was directed to her. Putting on her 'resting bitch face' partly due to the inconvenience of being disturbed at such a critical moment and partly due to the angst of being potentially late for work, she looked up with a scowl at the 6ft 2 stranger who had now approached where she was standing.
