Bank holiday travel! Always the same;
a chore – still more if you travel by train.
But we’re British, so we won’t make a fuss
as we board the rail replacement bus.
Surly rail staff in high-vis jackets
won’t give directions or help with baggage.
Pushed in so tightly, we feel like we’re trussed,
crammed into the rail replacement bus.
Along leafy lanes we wend our way,
join the traffic jam on the motorway.
Smug car drivers smirk – they’re laughing at us
poor souls on the rail replacement bus.
(Somehow coming back it’s even worse –
the route seems longer in reverse.
And if you can get a seat, that’s a plus
they’re rare, on the rail replacement bus.)
At last we wearily disembark,
over two hours late, in a damp car park.
Enough to make anyone scream and cuss –
the *expletive deleted* replacement bus!