As has already been established, I live in Falmouth. Very occasionally, I want to experience life in the big city again. It’s mainly if I lose my mind and forget that I find Starbucks genuinely disgusting for tax and flavour reasons, or if I need to do a scout around charity shops for as many pairs of jeans as I can find. When that happens, there’s nowhere to go but Truro. Because I am lazy and it is close.
The train is a whole two carriages long and bounces between Falmouth and Truro twice an hour. It’s a much more regular system than I could ever rely on in London, and it takes twenty minutes to get from one end to the other. The one time the train has ever been late I was immediately ushered onto an emergency coach outside the station which had been sent to minimise disruption. And, yes, I got stuck sitting behind a total arsehole of a girl who complained the entire way down the phone to her probably-also-an-arsehole friend, but it was still a lot better than waiting on the train platform for another half an hour. Which was, incidentally, what complain-y McGee would also have had to do.
So, basically, I love the trains in Cornwall. Maybe it’s because I used to live in London and take Southern Rail, so my standards are naturally low. But I love them nonetheless.
Every time I take a train, and especially on a Saturday morning, they are absolutely covered with forest. There are twigs and leaves all over the place. If I get the first train of the day (which I sometimes do because I can’t be less than an hour early for anything) I’ll see moths and spiders merrily going about their day amongst the hungover students. Yesterday evening I put my bike on the train and was mobbed by creepy crawlies which were attracted to my hi-vis jacket. And my good personality, obviously.
I do not understand where all of the onboard nature is coming from. Do they release the trains at night to go and sleep in the woods? Are GWR participating in some kind of wildlife refuge scheme? Am I just hallucinating? A true Cornish mystery.