Something for the Weekend

April 25, 2005

The things I do....by her... by Celeste

One of the many new experiences I have come across since my long distance relationship unfolded, is the bright new world of commuting.

Let me give you my weekend schedule for when it's my turn to trek down to Southampton for the weekend.

I start by lugging a fairly heavy weekend bag into work on Fridays. At the moment my walk into work is 15 minutes as I can't cut across the huge sports field due to it being muddy as all it seems to do in this country is rain. I wear stilettos so if I were to cut across my heels would sink into the abyss and hit someone on the head in Australia.

Once I have bundled into work, shoved my bag under my desk and made a nice cup of tea, I start to get little excitement butterflies flitting around in my tummy because it's nearly the weekend and I get to see my boyfriend.

At 4.30pm I race downstairs to my Mum's office to scab a lift to the station. This is always a very tense time as my train is due at 16.45 and I don't finish work until 16.30. I pre-book my ticket so I don't have to queue that shaves off a few minutes. My Mum becomes this crazed rally driver and pushes her way through the traffic to get me to the station in time and I tend to get there with 5 minutes to spare.

I shouldn't rush really as 9 times out of 10 the poxy train is delayed by 20 minutes. Which gives me time to buy a girly mag and read about '10 ways to get a better Orgasm' or '15 sex tricks to drive him wild' as well as laugh at the problems on the Agony Aunt pages.

I read said girly mag whilst waiting for the delayed train on Platform 9 like the departures sign told me, again I don't know why I don't just go to Platform 7 because every bloody time I stand there on Platform 9 that snotty, electronic female voice comes on 3 minutes before the train is due and says "I'm sorry to announce the following platform alteration. The delayed 16.45 Virgin Voyager Service to Bournemouth will now be departing from Platform 7". Grrr so after waiting for ages I have to walk very fast to get to Platform 7 to make the train. Carrying my weekend bag is a struggle with my feeble girl arms it's even worse running the gauntlet of men and women in power suits rushing towards me.

Finally I am on the train. The weekend is marvellous. Much sex takes place etc etc.

I wake up at 6.30am on Mondays after staying in Southampton on the weekend. It's not fun. I have to get the 7.11am train to Reading. My darling boyfriend gives me a lift to the station and then buggers off to get back into bed whilst I queue to get my tickets because Southampton is a 3rd world country and has not latched onto the self service phenomenon. The only self-service machine that station has is one that takes coins only. Who in their right mind carries £13 worth of change?!

Once I find an unreserved seat on the train I take in my surroundings. Without doubt there will be at least 5 fat, balding men in pinstripe suits with laptops tapping away at a word file. Now and again you get the 'mutton dressed as lamb' middle aged woman with her cherry red fake nails and power suit, there's the teens going to college in Winchester with their huge plastic folders and not-so-personal stereos pumping out some skater rock bollocks and then just as you've settled down an annoying overly cheerful Virgin staff member yells 'TICKETS PLEASE, GET YOUR TICKETS PLEASE LADIES AND GENTS' Arrrrr you bugger!

I arrive in Reading an hour or so later and have to catch a bus to work. I rarely am in time to make the earlier bus so I usually have to wait for 30mins on the bus that 'Don't go luv 'til 'alf parrrsst' joy. I'm surrounded by schoolgirls. Every sex starved, pervy males' dream. I can tell you it’s awful. Sporadic bursts of cackles, the bitching about Michelle who gave Rob a hand job at Sonny Joel's park last night 'what a slut', tapping on the pole with a coin because it’s fun and not at all annoying and doing all of this at a very high volume.

Finally they all get off, the bus is pretty much empty and I'm left to dread going to work and missing him because it'll be another 5 days without him.

Comments

i don't go back to bed.... actually! By the time I get home, it is time for me to get a shower and prepare for work!

Yeah yeah.

That cuppa this morning was fab!

FYI - I made the tea this morning, I don't want her taking credit :-)

At least you get a lift to the station, I don't even get a kiss goodbye up in Reading, you're too busy snoring!

Complete lie. I kiss you. Mumble goodbye and you tend to cop a feel!

You only made the tea after I asked you to. Lol!

That's not commuting, that's leisure travel!
Commuting is when you have to do that every weekday - without the weekend bag of course...

Ok....erm....I weekend commute.....

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