Muppets

I've got fed up fighting my way down the platform at Birmingham New Street. This is the letter I sent.
 

Sir/Madam

Use of Platform 1

As you are probably aware, Virgin train services to and from London now arrive and depart from platform 1

You probably also know that this is one of the most heavily loaded trains to use Birmingham New Street, with a large number of passengers needing to get on and off the train.

It has also been arranged such that when the train arrives from London it stops at the extreme end of the platform so that the nearest available exit for all passengers is the single west end staircase (platform 1 only having two stairwells and no escalator).

To further complicate matters building work has resulted in a reduction in the width of this platform so that passengers have to squeeze through a narrowed gap to get to the aforementioned single staircase (and squeeze through any passengers waiting for the train). The arrangement of the London trains is such that the bulk of the passengers are in Standard Class at the front of the train and therefore have to squeeze through this gap.

The icing on the cake is, of course, that the train has stopped as far from the lifts as possible. Since the usual reason for someone using the lifts is that they are disabled or have heavy luggage or children in prams, this suggests a particular well thought out bit of planning.

Such an arrangement must, I feel, have been made by Kermit the Frog (or for the sake of equality, Miss Piggy), since only a complete muppet would have arrived at a solution that maximises the discomfort of passengers. The alternative conclusion, that Birmingham New Street is trying to maintain its reputation for being one of the most uncomfortable stations to arrive at, seems at odds with the changes that are taking place at the moment.

At the risk of disagreeing with Mr Frog (or Miss Piggy) could I suggest that the previous arrangement whereby the London service made use of platform 2 was restored? This then makes three exits available, one with an escalator, and if the train stops where it used to it would not require a major hike to the lifts.

If platform 1 must be used then perhaps the train could stop at such a point that makes best use of the stairs and lifts available?

Regards

Mucus

I must warn my gentle readers that this article is not for the faint hearted. It contains some fairly disgusting themes, and the reading of it should especially be avoided when eating .. particularly if it's a meal of thin porridge or potato soup.

 You see... I've got a cold. A real cold. One of the runny, filled up with mucus and dribbling out the overflow type cold. I NEVER get this type of cold .. Or at least, I haven't had one for about 4 years so it's really a new experience for me. Usually I get the achy head-sore throat-hacking cough type cold but never the liquid variety.

 Having a liquid cold does bring back some memories. I'd forgotten what it was like to have your entire life ruled by mucus, both waking and sleeping. To have the sum of your existence wrapped up in a tight ball of half used tissues. To experience the delights of having to search in said ball for a nose sized area that was at least half dry. To experiment with different types of absorbent paper.  And because I'd forgotten what it was like I've decided to write it down in deathless prose (or random scribbles, depending on how much of a critic you are), and consign it to posterity. Besides which, it's one way to cheer me up, to get it off my chest so to speak.

 *hack* *cough* *phlegm*!

 That's better. 

 I'm learning new things each day (and night). One of the characteristics of having a nose threatening to emulate Niagara Falls is that you don't sleep too well at night, having to wake up every few minutes to empty said nose into the aforementioned damp rags. You do have time to think, to ponder to ... oh excuse me another waterfall to empty. 

 One of the things I ponder in the early wee hours is the nature of paper. You become an expert in paper in this state. Not the writing type paper but the absorbent kind.  When I was young you didn't have paper hankies, you had the proper sort. The cloth ones. Then it really was an exercise to both find a dry spot on the handkerchief and to find new and ingenious ways of drying the thing out between blows. Putting it on the radiator in the school common room was generally frowned upon. You could get away with hanging the latest effort from your pocket but then you looked scruffy ... not a problem in my case since it went well with the rest of my attire. How the more fashionable of my school friends managed it I will never know. Perhaps they didn't get colds.

 Nowadays of course it's all paper and cloth handkerchiefs are a thing of the past. However, this in turn has its problems. The pack I have sitting in front of me is one of those nice packs with balsam impregnated tissues. These are the Rolls Royce of tissues, soft, super absorbent and smooth on the nose. Unfortunately the pack only contains eight of them. Either the manufacturers don't get the kind of colds I currently have, or else they are sadists. 

 As an aside, you are often encouraged to drink plenty of fluids. I now know why that is. After you have emptied the contents of Lake Eirie into your super absorbent 8 pack of tissues you definitely need to replenish the liquid you have lost.  

 But I digress. The problem comes when you run out of the aforementioned 8 pack. You are then reduced to other things. Newspaper is no good .. not absorbent. You can at a pinch use kitchen towel. These seem ok but has a texture akin to sandpaper so after a few uses your nose and its environs look like somebody has taken a sandblaster to your face. What you should not do, and I want to pass this wisdom on to future generations (and myself in two weeks time when I've forgotten it), is to use toilet paper.

Let me explain.

Toilet paper is a very carefully designed item. Without going into details of its actual use, its life cycle includes being flushed down a waste disposal system. At this stage it must begin to disintegrate. That's right, toilet paper is designed to separate into a liquid mush on contact with water .. Or at least a few seconds aft contact after it. Now I must draw your mind back to Niagara Falls. The first blow is ok. On the second the paper has done its absorbent duty and commences on the next stage of its life cycle. The one after that? Maybe we shouldn't go further, but the result is that if you can't throw it away you are forced to return a gooey mass to your pocket that you know is going to combine with your keys and coins into  rock hard solid bit of artwork. You COULD try and sell it to the Tate gallery but my recommendation is that it is thrown away as soon as possible before it welds itself to your pocket.

I do hope you have enjoyed these pearls of wisdom. I need to go and blow my nose