National Express Coach 032

Dear travel fans and fellow cheapos that I travelled with last Wednesday,

How do I know you’re cheap? Because we were sat on the 032 London-bound National Express Coach. Our fare costs about £10. We could have got a train ticket for four times this amount, we could have hired a pink limo if we were feeling particularly 90s or we could have travelled in a taxi if we were feeling particularly foolish. But we didn’t. We chose coach. And I hate you all.

Why? Well, I’m glad you asked as I shall tell thee why.

I get incredibly travel sick. I know you aren’t to know this but, while feeling quite so full of vomit as I generally do, I don’t care. What I do care about is your personal hygiene. If you smell like piss, sex and death, it’s going to give me two hours of pain. I have a really sensitive gag reflex; I gag when I get a splinter or when I take a pair of sale Levi’s to the counter only to realise they aren’t sale but were just put back in the wrong place and I have to buy them full price anyway ‘cos there’s a massive queue behind me and I don’t want to look the total skinflint I really am.

You have terrible, terrible music taste. All of you. This isn’t a Year 10 school trip around Belgium – I don’t want to listen to you singing Beyoncé. It’s bad enough when it’s loud and I can hear every word but it’s even worse when it’s only just audible. It’s a bit fuzzy and all I can hear is bass and I half really want to know what it is and half really want to shove your iPod up your arse.

Don’t talk to me. DON’T. TALK. TO. ME. If I’m reading, don’t ask me what the book is because, y’know, I’M BUSY. READING.

I’ve been on way, way, way too many coach trips where some people are getting amorous at the back. It always sounds like some little fawns are dying.

But I don’t want to moan because you were quite gracious to me as I boarded late. You were all sat in your seats and I hopped with with my millions of bags. I did that panic-scan, desperately trying to find a spare seat before my face crumbled and I started to cry under the pressure of having everyone look at me, and when I found a place and started to head towards it I pretty much hit everyone in the first 10 rows, either side, in the face with my bags. I’m sorry.

See you next week!

Allie xoxo

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