Woking station is the place that people go to before they move into the afterlife. A vapid limbo where time slows to a crawl and the world outside becomes distant haze. Important place to be? Funeral? Operation? Well good luck with that.
South West trains are so consistently not on time that the information boards are replaced with decks of tarot cards. Sadly it is something that is just reluctantly accepted, like 3rd world poverty or X Factor. You see it on the faces of the down trodden commuters every morning. A malignant strife upon our daily routine, grinding us down slowly until someone breaks and leaps onto the tracks, at which point everything is slowed down even more and the cycle continues.
Slow really is the word. Everything from the ticket machines to the barriers to the cash machine which leisurely contemplates whether it will give you your money or wait a few minutes longer until your train has left. And of course the lifts. I can only assume they replaced the mechanism with an 80 year old asthmatic because there are times that you can literally hear the wheezing as it inches itself up to the towering height of one single floor, millimeter by painful millimeter as your delayed train leaves you behind. Even the Starbucks is slow and helpfully has no visible readout of the train times so if you are in a long queue you are stuck with no info.
Late trains are one thing but Woking station also helpfully makes you change platform consistently. With one minute notice. Thanks, i'll just run up these stairs with my scolding hot coffee to get your delayed train that you didn't inform anyone about. With all these other people with scolding hot coffees because the lifts are to slow to be usable.
Oh and there is also the nasal delicacy that is the men's toilet. A visual treat that could only be bettered with a glory hole and some toilet duck to remove the smell of... what is that smell of? No one makes that actual smell through bodily functions so it must be a combination of things. Terrible things that a mortal brain cannot process.Or maybe it is just what 'delayed' smells like? read more