Scissor Slashed

I've written before about how I feel that using the train for my daily commute is safer than going by car.

I may have to change my mind.

The reason for this was an incident that happened a couple of days ago.

Once you've been commuting for some time you get into the habit of sitting in a certain carriage in or near a particular seat; I'm no exception - last carriage, seat facing forward.

I've recently been joined by a group of Italian woman, one of whom likes living dangerously.

Now, before I start, I need to describe the commuting experience. The West Coast line, of which the Brum to Rugby stretch is part, is one of the newer lines, designed for High Speed Trains (in English terms that means 125mph). However, they still haven't got to the quality of track of the continental HSTs. There was recently a program where they had a journalist sitting in a German HST with a glass of wine sitting in front of him - hardly a ripple on the surface of the wine. Do that on an English train and it's floor mop time.

So, the ride isn't particularly smooth. Normally this isn't a problem; with typical british ingenuity drinks are supplied with lids, or sold in bottles or cans.

It is a problem if you're going to do your makeup.

Now, before you get all republican on me - I don't wear the stuff. The Italian girls, on the other hand, do.

It's also clear that they are in such a rush to get up in the morning that they have to do their makeup on the train.

So, out comes the mirrors, the powders, the lipstick and all the other stuff. And here is when things get interesting.

Putting lipstick on when travelling on a train is interesting, but not damaging. The carriage jolts, you merely have an artistic line drawn up your left nostril. It's when they start fiddling around their eyes that things look like they could get fun; first of all there's the mascara, with the possibilities of stabbing yourself with the brush. However, it a couple of days ago was when things started to get positively dangerous.

The girl sitting next to me started trimming her eyebrows.

With scissors.

I really must emphasise this. National Rail tracks are not perfect. At speed the train jiggers up and down and from side to side. James Bond would have loved a Martini made on the train. At some points they're still working on the track and when you go over points at speed the carriage rattles quite a bit.

So, she's clipping away at her eyebrows

With sharp scissors

On a train traveling at speed

on an uneven track.

All it needed was a good jolt and hey presto, eyeball on a stick.

Luckily she stopped before she did any further damage.

"Where's the danger to you, Bill?" I hear you ask

Well, I've mentioned that there is a group of them. They can't all fit into one block of seats so this girl was sitting next to me, talking excitedly to her friends in the seats in front.

and in that inimitable Italian fashion, gesticulating wildly

with some sharp scissors in her hand

I tell you, I could see myself arriving in Rugby with stab and slash wounds all over my face, probably with an eyeball stuffed in one ear.

"How did you get those interesting scars?", people would ask in the future

"I was scissor slashed by a small Italian girl", I would reply

and they wouldn't believe me.