Car park at dusk

A good day that got off to a bad start. I set the alarm 10 minutes early so that I could finish packing the CDs that are being sent off to Music Magpie in exchange for a small amount of cash (although since it's a small amount of cash for each of a large number of CDs, it adds up to quite a bit of money). Generally, it's OK getting up early in the morning and if I had a good reason I'd happily get up earlier even though the first couple of minutes are painful, forcing yourself awake, out of bed and into the shower.

But when the email from Scotrail comes at 0645 announcing that once again they have screwed it up, there's a depressing sense of your time being wasted by some useless arse that can't do its job properly. Of course, you're already sitting on the bus at this point with the one other (sleeping) passenger and a driver revelling in the empty roads and intent on hot-hatching his double decker round every corner and roundabout. I'm sure he'd also practice his too-fast-too-furious accelerations away from bus stops but no one gets on or off except me.

There's nothing you can do about the trains but take the limp, scripted and insincere apology for 'any inconvenience this may cause'. No kicking back and relaxing into it with another cup of coffee. You just carry on to the station and hang around with the other commuters in the slight cold that would be OK, pleasant even, I'd you'd been walking or just waiting a couple of minutes. Otherwise it's the kind of cold that seeps right into you.

When the train does come you have to endure the restrained manoeuvring as people try to surreptitiously position themselves on the platform to best catch the doors and maximise their chance of a seat. Some people aren't so subtle. For everyone else there's a faintly humorous en bloc sideways shuffling as the door goes past the point on the platform where they've collectively guessed that it's going to open.

And then you have the &^%* who thinks his Camelbak and bike helmet deserve a wee seat of their own. You can tell it's not an accident, that he hasn't just failed to notice, by the way that nothing moves even though there's an army of people streaming onto the train. You can feel his not-looking, him straining not to do what a normal, not-sleeping commuter would do and check out the embarking passengers. He needs to not do that because it risks eye contact and obvious incivility. If he had any sense he's pretend to be asleep or, like the bloated "dude" opposite, wear sunglasses and an iPod. He needs to be asked for the seat.

But then I got off the train and things got better. This evening was a wholly uncharacteristic and worrying development. Met Pensioner in Berts after work and we failed to sit there drinking too much beer, nattering and having a pie. Instead we walked the streets of Edinburgh taking photographs. That's just not normal. But the period of civil twilight and early dusk gave some nice lighting. Enough to make a car park look nice.

Jeez. Blah blah blah. Sorry about that.