3850 days ago
I thought I was clever catching the 10.45 to Bristol Parkway rather than the 11.30 Drunks Express to Temple Meads. I was wrong. It was a disaster. Newport at 1 AM was my punishment.
The Temple Meads trains stops in Bristol. And so however dog tired you are – and I was shattered – you will get some burly guard waking you up and you know that you will get home. The Parkway train heads off to Wales after visiting Bristol and last night I awoke to find it doing just that with me on board.
Newport at 1 AM is not a very nice place. I peered outside the train station to see two Police vans parked and waiting to deal with the local “nightlife.” Fat girls with short skirts and long heels tottered around wondering where they were heading next. Lagered up lads were hunting for a kebab shop still open. To quote Oscar Wilde out of context “the unspeakable in the pursuit of the inedible.” I refer to the kebabs here not the fat girls but I suppose that is equally applicable.
To be fair to Newport that is pretty much par for the course for any British town on a Friday night but I swiftly concluded that I did not fancy hanging around for four hours and sixteen minutes to catch the first train back to Bristol.
As such I struck a deal
