Argh, so last night was a nightmare after my alright day.
Not only did I get caught in the rain without an umbrella, all the way from the office to Fenchurch Street — ooooh, nooo!! After the gym, I found out the trains from Fenchurch Street had problems, so jumped on the first one with my stop. This one made a 20 minute stop before Limehouse. So when I had efficiently booked my taxi half hour after it departed, I had to call up the taxi company, greeted with a rude “Who are you??!” and push my time back further.
Then, my phone battery ran out. And then, the train stopped AGAIN. Inefficient!
I didn’t want to ask anyone to borrow their phone – they were just as agitated as I was, but I was the only one traveling home in their sweaty gym gear… And I was greeted at my station, with no taxi. As expected really. Asked the train person behind the glass if they had a pay phone to which I received a very dreary and bored “No…” So I asked where the nearest pay phone was… “I dunno…”. Thanks, train woman behind the glass!!
I walked out of the station, wondering what the hell I should do. I couldn’t walk home, because it’s all main roads and there’s a really scary round-a-bout that I wouldn’t mind not crossing! And there, on my right. A pub. Hooray! But, oh. Does that mean I have to buy a drink or crisps or something to use their phone? I’m not hungry or thirsty, so neither would be beneficial. So slowly, I walked in, soaked from the rain, and asked the bar maid if I could use their phone to call a taxi because my taxi had left me and I had no battery – she just passed me the phone! I swear I saw a bright light behind her and angel music playing.
Called the taxi company – that stupid woman from earlier picks up the phone and starts, even after I explained my situation. Tried to keep my cool, but didn’t. And thus, they sent a taxi. Hooray!
I got home and just cried.
Boyfriend calls and I offer him a lift. When the time comes, I pick him up, start talking about my journey and just start crying AGAIN. I am so emotional at the moment. I would like someone to slap me and tell me to slap out of it please.
This morning, I picked up my Stylist magazine that I do every Wednesday, by Tower Hill station. And there’s a CUTE puppy on the front, with the caption “Admit It… He’s Already Made You Smile”. And it did. So hooray for Stylist magazine – I even emailed the editor to say thanks for it! Such relief that I’m not just this crying ogre all the time!!