The train to Sheringham

It’s thirty seconds until we depart
if you you’re sat at your own table
with a newspaper and a coffee you’ll be eyeing other passengers
with looks of evil now
back off you stragglers!

The train should leave earlier,
survival of the fittest,
reward the well prepared who got here in plenty of time.
The driver in his little room at the front
revs the engine like a toddler on a pushalong Thomas
and we’re going!

This is a spaceship and we are heading to the moon.
It’s not. We’re at Norwich train station.
Platform 6.
Across the concourse a businessman runs awkwardly
a golfing umbrella tucked under his arm.
He must get to London!
That’s where the meetings are!

We canter past Morrisons,
Big Box Storage,
the floodlights of the football ground
Norwich play a nice passing game these days.
This is it. The train journey to Sheringham
all over the world there are people on trains
making the same journey day after day
going through the motions
eating Kellogs Deja Vu
with your same favourite spoon
a quick sniff to see if the milk's off.
It never is.

Bland FM playing the same songs
the post dropping on the mat at the same time
as you simultaneously clean your teeth, tie your tie.
The same staff working at the station ticket office
and you sit on the same seat with the same passengers
you have nicknames for each one of them:
Armpits boy
Crap Bicycle Woman
Should have Gone to Specsavers.

These commuters are like a britpop band refusing to split up
touring tiny venues in the bassist's dad's van
reagailing bar staff and technicians
about the time they were on TFI Friday.
“This one's called The train to Sheringham”
they'll say towards the end of their set
the predictable finale after the landscape
of indifferently received new material
the three chord guitar intro as familiar as those pine trees in the distance
as we edge towards West Runton.

All over the world there are people on trains
Kindles and Nintendo DSs,
reading Private Eye and just gazing into the abyss.
But there can be few more pleasant commutes than this
it might get a bit boring but it beats those traffic jams
and the Underground. Have you been on the Piccadilly Line at this kind of time
sweat patches like paddling pools
people getting passive aggressive with their sat navs.
'You said we'd be there by now'

so stretch out your legs, sip your Metazza coffee
and think how things could be a lot worse than this
as we arrive at the Unstaffed station of the year 2006.
No-one at the ceremony to accept the award.