Susan Morrison: I booked tickets and reserved seats – what could possibly go wrong?
When I recently offered my husband the chance of a whirlwind Berlin visit he said, no, he'd rather go to Inverness. I suspect this enthusiasm for the Highland capital was inspired by two considerations.
One, he can’t abide airports. He loves flying, but the hell on earth that is an airport leaves him in a state of near panic, an emotional state Yorkshire does not recognise. It's mainly because of the retail assault course you have to get through.
He’s got a condition I refer to as the Male Retail Aversion or MRA for short. He’d rather stand outside in a howling gale than set foot somewhere specifically designed to take money from him.
I could have told him not to fear the tills of Edinburgh Airport. The last time I went through, they trailed us through some sort of twisty turny Crystal Maze corridor. There was the momentary fear that doors would close behind us and we’d never get out until we’d solved a fiendish puzzle.
The second reason for a trip north was because I told him we could go by train. He likes trains. We did London by rail earlier this year and that was very successful. Of course, that was LNER. Now we were in the hands of ScotRail. I booked tickets and reserved seats. What could possibly go wrong?
I suppose we should be grateful that there was at least a train. Just not the swish, high-speed one we’d been expecting. Instead, a number of elderly carriages had been hooked together. Big day for them. They usually chuntered along short trips to Kirkcaldy and the like. Now it was Intercity, baby.
The public address system was working. We knew this because the increasingly exasperated Passenger Care Manager, or whatever they’re called these days, used it to tell us that there were fewer seats than the booking system had been led to believe and those reserved seats were totally gone with the wind.
This didn’t stop the inevitable inter-passenger seat-based territorial spats breaking out. Intense diplomacy was the order of the day. If only we’d had JD Vance on board.
There were too many people and not enough seats. The much vaunted free wi-fi wasn't working, presumably on the grounds that no-one should be looking at screens as we passed through the mistily majestic Cairngorms. Actually it wasn’t mist. The windows were filthy.
The power points we’ve all got used to in the digital age didn't work either and this was a bit of an issue for passengers who had their tickets on ScotRail’s app. Word of advice, either get a power bank or make sure you collect a paper version at the station.
Naturally there was no on-board catering, since ScotRail seems to be watching the nation's weight.
The Scots are used to disappointment. We tend to sigh and get on with it, squashed into a tired, dirty train with busted wi-fi, no power and a missing trolley. But embarrassingly this train was ram jammed with tourists. It’s a bit of a rid-faced beamer to have Scotland look mildly rubbish.
Luckily, some of the overseas visitors were American, many of whom seem black affronted by current Presidential shenanigans.
Lets face it, ScotRail would have to go some to trump that embarrassment, but it would be nice to show Scotland can run a railroad.