Trip down memory railtrack, this one.

In a former life (no, I don't mean I believe in reincarnation - I just mean it feels like it was in a former life) I travelled into and out of Glasgow by train, for school, work, uni, off and on (no pun intended) for various periods between 1974 and 1990. From time to time (!) over these years there were delays and boring, cold waits at train stations. The station in the picture is one of the ones I waited at, though it had the benefit of a bus stop outside to which I could bail out and try my luck at. It was during this time that I found this poem and think it is just fab. Enjoy. Can those in other countries relate to it too, I wonder?

British Rail Regrets, by Steve Turner

British Rail regrets
having to regret.
British Rail regrets
it cannot spell.
British Rail regrets
the chalk ran out.
British Rail regrets
that due to a staff shortage
there will be no-one
to offer regrets.
British Rail regrets, but will not be sending
flowers or tributes.
British Rail regrets
the early arrival
of your train.
This was due to industrious action.
British Rail regrets
that because of a work-to-rule
by our tape machine
this is a real person.
British Rail regrets
the cheese shortage
in your sandwich.
This is due to
a points failure.
The steward got
three out of ten.
British Rail regrets.
Tears flow from beneath
the locked doors of staff rooms.
Red-eyed ticket collectors
offer comfort
to stranded passengers.
Angry drivers threaten
to come out in sympathy
with the public.
British Rail regrets.
That's why its members
are permanently dressed in black.
That's why porters stand around
as if in a state of shock.
That's why Passenger Information
is off the hook.

British Rail regrets
that due to the shortage of regrets
there will be a train.