I have a kind of love/hate relationship with trains (☝). I’ve never been hit by a train so they get love for that, though I did once get stuck in the doors of a tube train, so they get a strong dislike for that. I really like trainers (1/2 ☝), and I love 80’s movie training (1/2 ☝) montages - these being my favourite, natch - but trains (☝) also played a significant part in the rise and demise of a relationship, so it’s swings and roundabouts. Proper love/hate, real talk. Sigh. Let’s begin…

The Rise: After university, my best friend from those hallowed halls of learning decided to expand his horizons and mind on a Masters tip in the far flung fields of Nottingham. So one early Autumn day I caught the train (☝) up to see him. It was while traversing the tubes on this particular journey that I got mixed up in the carriage door carnage actually. Eventful all ‘round. Anyway, it was also on this journey that I met… er, let’s roll with a name change here, shall we… Steve. Steve had the face of Kiera Knightley and the body of Blake Lively. Naturally, with my wet hippo hair, hairy tramp face and baboon’s bum we were the perfect match. And so began a short courtship, from which eventually blossomed a gratia garden bursting with beauty, filled with the sweet-smelling scent of that rarest of roses; Eau de Romance pour Him et Her. By Steve. 1ltr bottle, £2.99.

The Demise: Months passed and by early Summer it was time to meet the parents. A weekend at the family home to celebrate the youngest member of the bunch’s Birthday seemed the ideal opportunity. No problem. Present for brother - check. Flowers for Mum - check. Bottle of wine for Dad - check. New shirt for me - check. Knowledge of sibling names and no-go topics of conversation - double check. What could go wrong? Well, quite a lot apparently…

First day was fine, despite the revelation that the Birthday Boy was a nine year old nightmare in Nikes. Second day was a trip to a theme park, and just a nightmare. Now, I don’t know who suggested it was a good idea to go on the ghost train (☝) but let me just say this: CHEERS FOR RUINING MY LIFE. And I definitely don’t know who suggested I share a cart with the Nightmare and Grandma but, again: CHEERS FOR RUINING MY LIFE. Now, the last time I rode a ghost train (☝) it was absolutely rubbish, so to whomever designed this one: CHEERS FOR RUINING MY LIFE. It had actual people in it, dressed as serial killers and escaped lunatics…? Why would you do that? WHY? It was terrifying, like, genuinely terrifying. Rounding the final corner of the course, having endured several hairpins of horror, my nerves were shot. I couldn’t take anymore… It wasn’t my fault… What do you expect a grown man to do when confronted by the contorted face of a machete-wielding mad man!? Well, I’ll tell you what Grandma didn’t expect; me to push her out the cart and into the path of the oncoming killer. And I’ll tell you what the Birthday Boy didn’t expect; me to blame him. Straight home and straight to bed for you sunshine, it might be your Birthday but Nana needs changing and you’ve ruined it for everyone. “Welcome to big school”.

Problem is, these new parks take a keepsake snap innit. And as the image processed and the flickering screen slowly revealed my shoving shame, I knew the relationship was over. Straight home for me, but never to bed again. Welcome to single school.