Swifties

10.20am.

West Calder to Edinburgh.

It’s the slow train.

Livingston South – Kirknewton – other places I never pay much attention to – Haymarket – Waverley.

There’s hardly a seat to be had.

Red cowboy hats with tassels all over the place.

Country and Western convention?

John Wayne (who) appreciation society?

“We’re all bored, We’re all so tired of everything, We wait for trains that just aren’t coming, We show off our different scarlet letters, Trust me, mine is better”.

Well, this is one train that arrived, on time, and full of mainly women of all ages, with a few dads thrown in, all singing Taylor Swift songs and off to the concert at Murrayfield.

You would have to be a real grump to rain on this parade.

Wester Hailes.

A group of young guys, all carrying cans and bottles of alcohol, get on and loudly work their way up the train.

‘C’mon lads. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.’

They congaed up the aisle.

‘Fuck. Fuck. Fuck’.

One of them was dressed in a white bridal dress.

‘Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.’

Undeterred the Swifties sang on.

‘We’re so young, But we’re on the road to ruin, We play dumb but we know exactly what we’re doin’, We cry tears of mascara in the bathroom, Honey, life is just a classroom, (Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah).’

There was no way that the fuckers were going to win.

They shouted obscenities a few more times, and then sullenly sank into a group huddle, clinking bottles, and downing cans.

I wondered if the bride, looking round, was having second thoughts. Was this the future? Swifties rule. Ok.