Regina Spektor: Part One

Water. Tickets. A Magazine. The vital components of any train journey.


I had never bought Front before. I only wanted to read this review, but I thought the magazine was quite good if you ignore all of the mindless, but neccessary sex stuff that magazines for men need.


Not bloody Cardiff. I hate Cardiff. Nice place though.


Look! It's me! That is genuinely what my face looks like.


See that guy there? No, not the one in the green t-shirt, the other one. He was reading a Julian Clary book and laughing to himself a lot. Does Julian Clary write funny books? I wouldn't have thought so, maybe the man was just thinking about that time Joey did something stupid in Friends.


I'm supposed to have been in Bristol Parkway by now. There hasn't been a delay, what's going on? Did I miss the stop? The last place I want to be right now is in a tunnel. No amount of safety information is going to help if the tunnel collapses on me.


Thank Jesus, I'm here. Sadly I've missed the 15.08 that I needed to get on. Bristol Parkway is a very strange station. It's like being in limbo.


I learn that the 15.08 had been cancelled anyway, a small victory. Chocolate time. Hopefully the crazy heat won't have melted the machine.


Can I take a moment to talk to you about chocolate? What is the best mainstream chocolate? Don't rush in and say dairy milk or snickers. Ignore the nuts and caramel of other bars, just think about the chocolate itself. Is the chocolate you're thinking of Galaxy? Congratulations, you've won.


Better drink some water. Don't want to be dehydrated.


Can you believe that they still have this advert up? Not the woman, she is a real old woman. The world cup is over, what good are tickets now?


If you're going to watch the Buddy Holly Story you'd better make sure that it's the film starring Gary Busey. He sings all of the songs himself, don't you know?


At 15.53 the 15.38 arrives. Is that woman inside the train or is just her reflection? I think we both know the answer to that.


I get on a much nicer train. It's practically cold inside. The door to the bin hasn't been secured properly. If we were to hit another train the rubbish could fall out and we'd all stink of crisp packets and apple cores.


Bled White by Elliot Smith. Wallet by Quicksilver.


Birmingham. I need the toilet, but there are none to be found. There are signs, but they all point to the area that I'm not allowed in. I saw a lot of blind people.


I suppose I'd better look for one, a toilet that is, not a blind person.


Those bastard Chinese, coming over here putting our 99p and pound shops out of business.


Look at this cunt. Do people honestly jump like that?


I can't find a toilet, but I find the person I am meeting. He is standing next to me. You can't see him, but you can see the famous football bush. This is where Moses invented football.


So who have I met? None other than Cooper King.


The salad bar. Imagine a world where people go out to bars and clubs to eat vegetables, but came to pizza hut to fill up bowls with alcohol. That world would be called Slightly Backwards Sort of Opposite Land.


I beg Coop to let me have a Stuffed Crust, but he's having none of it. "It's grandpan or nothing" he says.


All gone. Sort of. There's always a few pieces of beef and pork left. I wonder how many complete cow pigs you could build with all of the pieces of spicy beef and pork that have been left in black round trays.


Where has he gone? Find out in Part Two of Regina Spektor.