Anyhoo (yes "anyway" was already taken).

Behold, the wonder that is mobile blogging.

Wonder is that context possibly meaning sheer patheticness. But hey ho.

And that's mobile as in not sitting at home, not as in a handy.

Confused? Don't worry it's not just you. I am at my brother's for the weekend, playing on his new computer. And of course because I came up due to imminent birthdayage, he's gone to a wedding in Buckinghamshire (he thinks, though someone else he's going claims it's in Essex. Could be interesting when they get to Marylebone).

Apparently his flatmate [away for the weekend], has lent his room to some randomish couple. So that's me alone in a flat awaiting the arrival two people I don't know (and who probably don't know I'm here). Fun.

I did try to escape, but the friend I was hoping to see wasn't apparently in. This could be because I pressed the buzzer for wrong flat, but I don't think so. Rather worryingly there was a "to let" sign up between the two windows of the friend's first floor kitchen [the flat's over a shop]. But it's probably one of the others in the building which doesn't face the street. I hope, having stuck her [much belated] birthday card and present through the front door. And she needs a bigger letterbox.

Only I would think going between Clapham and Fulham is just popping out.

So yeah, in London on a Saturday night. Think I'm going to sit and watch a DVD on my own. And it's likely to be Monsters Inc. Utter sociable extrovert, huh?

Strangely listening to Australian radio programmes devoted to Radiohead, goes quite well with the muggy warmth and dappled sun outside.

Getting sidetracked, but realising I can't type about what I wanted because I'm not in the mood.

Coming up yesterday on the train. It was a new one. Never had a new one on that line before. I hate it. Why?

A. It doesn't clatter, it sways. Think of sitting in house built of jelly on a base of quicksand.

B. The windows don't open.

C. It's air conditioned. This means there's freezing air blasting at one's ankles, but despite this it's quite warm and close [though that is preferable to air-con that actually works. There's nothing worse that getting off a train in July and realising you're still shivering].

D. There's annoying head-cupping headrests. This means you must be of average height and sitting bolt upright to not be really uncomfortable.

E. The seats are "airliner style". This means half the carriage face one way, and half the other, with a table in the middle. Which means if you want to see where you're going, you have to walk halfway down the empty carriage to get a seat.

F. The seats are "airliner style". This means that if you put you legs forward, your shins bash the edge of the seat on front before you can get them straight. In the normal carriages, with seats clustered facing each other, there's no problem. Lack of legroom: yep, that's something they definitely borrowed from airliners.

G. Did I mention the doors don't open? The external ones open automatically at the guard's discretion. So if he or she doesn't bother to press a button you'd better run down the train. The train which has automatic safety doors dotted the whole way along. Automatic in that you have to push a very low button, and they hiss, and gently open. Which is great for the poor family who found they couldn't get out, and were pounding frantically. When I tried using them, I found the emergency access level works quicker and better, if you give it a good yank [I didn't see the button on the first one].

H. Did I mention the doors don't open? For some reason, they decided the train was too long for all bar 2 stations. Therefore passengers for those stations have to move to the first 5 carriages of the train. How many people habitually count the number of cariages there are in each direction, before getting on trains? Judging by the chaos., not many. So despite sitting in carriage stopped right outside the main station building, at that station you could only get off the train by walking quarter of a mile through the train [and remember the hissing doors? so to get off a station you have to leave you seat by the station before, at the latest].

I. The mythical fifth carriage was incidentally the first class one. Which was cunningly labelled "D", in a ten coach train [1, 2, 3, 4...er, Oh, now I think I see why the 17:59 train leaves at 18:04, 18:06, 18:09 and finally 18:13). The carriage also happens to be the one which is blocked the rear end by a pushchair. And of course there are masses on people wanting to get off at Clapham Junction, all of whom are forced up into the end of the first class coach, and can't get anywhere. The automatic internal doors are going into a conflicting sensor fuelled frenzy of erratic hisses [they don't like people leaning on them]. And guard keeps shoving people through, yelling "Move up the train", and people not doing that because they can't. It's just like being on the tube at rush-hour, except there's the added joy of doors constantly trying to close on people. We get to Clapham Junction, and sit there for a couple of minutes while a man goes to open the doors. I don't like not having a choice, and not having some degree of control.

J. It's a ten coach train on a line where anything under 8 carriages is considered odd, and yet at most stations people can only alight from the front half of the train. Which leads to people being level with the station building mid-way up the platform having to walk both up the platform and the train to find a functioning door. When I got off at Clapham Junction, only the first half the train was used to let people on and off. Only the last two carriages weren't next to level platform, and the penultimate one would normally have been used by the more athletically inclined. So that's 3 carriages worth of passengers who are annoyed for no reason.

That's how many reasons why they are not a good thing? Points A-J, so in South West Trains' thinking that'll be 2 and bit.

As I said earlier (probably), they're utterly crap. And it really bugs me that there nothing which can be opened from the inside. The emergency exit is through the doors at the end, assuming they're in a good mood. Oh and the alarm, is down the carriage, through the slow hissing doors, and then hunt for it.

Give me 40 year old, clattery, bench-seated, slam-door rolling stock, and I wouldn't be quite so pissed off. The train leaving Tweeton late, and losing time on the way up would, admittedly probably still annoy me, but I'd be a damn sight less annoyed. But that's simply the Sorry, What Train/Timetable?[1] effect (even SWT's website is crap).

[1] If you find station staff who aren't on a break, or claiming to be, that's their usual reply to any inquiry. But I'm still annoyed that, whilst I can get a cheap 5-day return to Waterloo, I can't to Clapham Junction, because the reduction from the price of two singles would bring the cost under £10, which is their minimum. And how much do the singles cost? Nearly £6. And of course, it wouldn't be fair to have a 5 day return being reduced on the singles price by less than the normal percentage, so they can't offer that offer. Could you not just charge me £10 pounds for there and back again, and I won't complain it's not such a good deal as some of the other destinations. Grr.

I know the know trains are probably safer in a crash, but on that line, they've long since stopped going fast enough to have crashes. I don't know why, but the journey time in the past few years has increased by 25 minutes. And it doesn't stop anywhere new. It just goes slower.

Remind me to never by shares in Siemens, or the great chaosifisers Stagecoach (owners of SWT, who also own the local buses as well [At least state-run monopolies are state-run]).

[Random quote from the prog: Everything in life should be tried once, except incest and country dancing. Attribed to G.K. Chesterton by member of Radiohead].

Sorry, if I repeated myself in that rant, but badly designed stuff infuriates me. Especially when it's obviously brand new. Could have been done better, and it bloody well should have been.

Back to happier stuff, and my brother and I watched 28 Days Later last night [incidentally his new computer's DVD player can adjust the speed of the film by +/-50%, and has a handy feature that let's you set the time you want the film to finish by and it adjust accordingly. OK, so this could mean you watch a chipmunked Terminator, but it's still a good idea in some cases (not having tested it, I assume it applies the distortion evenly, rather than speeding up more and more as one nears the end). I wonder if you can use it slow films down the same way, and watch something like Spaced with the characters all speaking Whale (see Finding Nemo, also a good film)]. Somehow I managed not see it when it came out, so last night I was full of "Oh! It's she from Teachers/he from Eastenders etc." and stupid questions about "Is this going to be a scary bit?". That and much shouting of "How stupid can you get? No, no, no, no! Haven't you ever seen a horror film? Don't go in, and don't go in alone!". It's probably just as well I didn't see it in a cinema, and so could safely pound my cushion up and down out of frustration. Yes, I still do that "looking over the top of a cushion makes it less scary" thing, even though I probably don't still need to.

The film, quite good, with eerie and intriguing shots of abandoned London. Sometimes it would have worked better if they'd stuck to leaving the zombies just out of shot, and eased off on the strobe-lighting lightning, and rain lashed windows. That and an East-End girl who says "rarely" for "really". Or maybe that's just the effect of Eastenders' stereotyping that makes a shabby concrete tower-block dweller lapsing into a posher accent seem unrealistic.

But it's a good film, with many stunning ideas.

Anyway, I'd better go and eat, so I'll have finish my "London Calling" post now - to the sound of sirens, some extreme-sports event's sound system [you have you pay to get in, unless you jump the fence, as a large groups of people were doing whilst the two security guards on that side were distracted], the whine of jet engines, the rumble of trains, the dull thudding base of a neighbour, the whinny of electric scooters, the half-caught bits of passing conversations, and someone's phone ringing persistently. (They're not in, give it up). Summer in the city.

Anyhoo,

PS. His computer is still new enough that the irritating paperclip in Word has not been told to permanently bugger off yet. It's clinking at me, but I think I'll leave that joy for him.