Start the week #82
Transport announcements, Substack announcements, the ice maiden, reading and viewing
Greetings!
I’ve just been told that this article is too long for email. It’s just as well: I was planning to wrap it up anyway. But enough of this persiflage! On with the newsletter.
Terry
The train now standing on platform 10
Transport in London these days is, for the most part, sleek, efficient. The epitome of this newish Utopia is the Elizabeth Line, with its silent, gliding carriages, air-conditioning and wi-fi. The announcements are soothing: I’m sure Transport for London have borrowed from the playbook of those companies that employ women with velvet voices in their customer services departments:
Me: Now listen here. This widget I purchased at great expense from your so-called company has stopped working after only a week. I demand that something be done about it. I know my rights.
Girl with velvet voice: Oh, I’m sorry to hear that, Sir. I’ll have a replacement sent out to you right away.
Me: Ah, well, erm, thanks, but only if it’s convenient for you, sorry to cause you any trouble, it’s probably only a slight glitch, I’m sure I can….
The automated announcements on the system are certainly better in some respects than the old system. I remember when I used to work in Upminster, I’d get the District Line from Mile End to Barking. At Barking you could either stay on the train and chug slowly to Upminster, stopping at every station en route, or hop off and wait for the British Rail train on the other side of the same platform, and be whisked to Upminster in a fraction of the time.
The problem was, though, that the announcer at Barking would always sound garbled, a circumstance not aided by his mispronunciation of ‘Upminster’. So you would hear something like:
Ladies and Gentlemen, the grnnnf to Upminister grrrnf gronfff late arriving gnnnnng 13.
It was impossible to tell whether he’d said that the train to ‘Upminister’ was running late or was not running late, and while it was amusing to see all these hapless souls looking at each other in bewilderment, it was also frustrating. Half the time if you decided to stay on the train then, just as the doors were closing, you’d see the British Rail train rolling in to the station1. The other half of the time you’d hop off the train and wait for a British Rail train that never arrived.
These days, the automated announcements are much clearer, if slightly bizarre to listen to because of the different pitches of the bits that are plugged in to the computer termplate. I’ve tried to represent this on music notepaper2:
There is a problem with automated announcements though. There is clearly somebody, in the bowels of the nerve centre of Transport for London, whose job it is to come up with new and exciting announcements. Perhaps it’s even built in to their yearly plan, forming the basis of their annual feedback session with their line manager:
Line manager: Well, Soames, you’ve somewhat let the side down this year. Your target was to come up with one new announcement every month, but you’ve only managed half a dozen. What do you have to say for yourself, young man?
Soames: Sorry, Sir. My cat, not well, vet…
LM: I’m afraid you’ll have to do better than that, Soames. Let’s schedule another meeting for a month’s time. Let’s see if you can’t come up with another announcement or two by then.
How else to explain the utterly inane announcements that are blared out constantly? Here are some of the announcements, followed by my comments to Elaine upon hearing them.
In hot weather, always carry a bottle of water with you to avoid getting thirsty.
Now they tell me! Who knew that being hot makes you thirsty, and that to avoid it you should drink water?
When it’s been raining, the floors may be slippery when wet.
Gosh, if only I’d known. I’d have bought a pair of mountain-climbing boots or skis.
Intense staring is an offence on the Underground.
You mean I’m supposed to ignore that huge bloke who looks like he might be about to mug somebody?
Being abusive to staff will not be tolerated on the Underground.
OK, so where will it be tolerated?
This bus is now moving.
Phew, that’s a relief. I was wondering why the shops had started to disappear behind us.
It’s therefore quite a relief when a human being makes the announcement. A few years ago I was returning home from an education technology conference. The train was gasping along from Olympia to Earls Court, stopping every few minutes. Then the train stopped and didn’t move at all. It was hot, it was crowded, we were all nose to armpit, and you could feel the tension in the carriage. All of a sudden there was an announcement in a very gruff and deep male voice:
I’m sorry for the delay, Ladies and Gentlemen, but the signalman at Earls Court has fallen asleep. As soon as he wakes up we’ll resume our journey, no doubt at our usual blistering pace.
Well of course, everyone burst out laughing and the tension was eradicated.
Then there was the time at Stratford station in East london, when the announcement came over the tannoy:
Ladies and Gentlemen, the train arriving at Platform 15 is being driven by Darren. It’s Darren’s birthday today, so give him a wave.
But the best example of joviality I think was what happened a few decades ago. Someone, at Waterloo I think, was always making announcements to the effect that the 10:32 arrival was running late because the driver had stopped on the way to pick blackberries. British Rail sacked him for bringing the service into disrepute. There was a public outcry by the commuters who regularly used the service, and a short while later he was reinstated.
It’s events like this which give me hope that despite the shenanigans we often witness among people who should know better, the British sense of humour and fair play will prevail in the end.
My reaction every time I receive an email about a new Substack feature
I tamed the ice maiden
A deli I visit all too frequently recently took on a young lady, probably in her early twenties. Cold, efficient, she never cracked a smile. Even eliciting a “goodbye” was quite a task.
When I arrived last week she was there, on her own, with this thumping, tuneless “music” emanating from a speaker at full volume.
“So you actually like this music do you?”, I shouted.
“Yes”, she grumped.
“Funny”, I bellowed3. “I never had you down as a headbanger. It just goes to show, doesn’t it?”
She burst out laughing.
“You ought to have strobe lighting installed”, I hollered4.
“Yes”, she hooted5. “A lot of people say it makes them feel like dancing.”
“I’m not surprised”, I croaked6.
As I left she gave me a huge and beautiful smile.
It’s odd, isn’t it, that quite often the way to someone’s heart is to insult them? The comedian Dave Allen did quite a funny soliloquy on this very phenomenon, and I featured that in an article I wrote about language:
The great American Language
When I was a young man I was typically disparaging about Americans and their mangling of our wonderful language, as I saw it. Why, I wondered, can’t they spell things properly? Why do they say “different than” rather than “different to”? Why do they say “I could care less” when, by any logic, it should be “I could
Articles you may have missed
These are the ones I wrote on Substack last week. I wrote a load more for other publications. I also wrote a few that I wasn’t happy enough with to publish. I was thinking of making them available to paid subscribers to see what others think7. There are a couple of beginnings and a full article. It’s not that they’re bad, it’s just that I didn’t feel satisfied. They need something more.
Which reminds me: I’ve already written the next Experiment in Style but have decided to embellish it a bit. Hopefully I’ll publish that on Sunday.
Speaking of which, I’ve now published 78 versions of the story “A Bang on the head”. Woo hoo!
They are all listed in the index.
Anyway, as I was saying, here are last week’s offerings.
Experiments in style: The inspiration for the travel diary version
A few weeks ago I published a version of my story ‘A Bang on the Head’ in the style of a travel diary. Here’s how it begins:
Other newsletters’ articles
writes about finding a cache of Famous Five books: advises writers not to discuss politics: waxes lyrical about robotic devices, including a bum wiper: 
Videos you might enjoy
In this Les Dawson clip, it’s the American’s reaction that makes me laugh as well as the skit itself:
Well that’s it from me for this week. I hope you enjoyed reading it. On Wednesday, if I’ve recovered from my visit to the dentist8, I’ll be replying to
’s letter to me. You should definitely subscribe to hers if you haven’t already. Not only does she write beautifully, but she’s one of my biggest fans, thereby demonstrating impeccably good taste and discernment.The much-ridiculed British Rail advert of the time sported the strapline “We’re getting there”, to which the obvious answer was, “Yeah, but when?”
It was either that or putting on my best female voice and recording it for you. Please don’t ask me to do that.
Thank goodness for Roget’s Thesaurus, or I’d be lumbered with “said”.
Please see footnote 3.
Please see footnote 4.
My throat was sore by now.
Why only for paid subscribers? Because it will reduce the number of people who decide that I can’t write.
Who was looking down in the mouth the last time I saw him. (See? The old ones are not always the best.)
I loved the comment of the announcer on the Earl's Court train. So quintessentially, delightfully British. Also impressed by the animated piece of you receiving yet another feature from Substack. Excellent, Mr Freedman
Keepie uppie as they say! I read a somewhat dire article on making a successful connection with the opposite sex using the technique you describe and this I believe is known as 'negging'. Unless I have got it completely wrong which is of course possible.