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.