Well, It's Friday, and hopefully enough time has passed for me to remember this weeks cycling events without major post traumatic stress disorder...

Monday.
I arrived at Manchester Piccadilly, bike in hand, pretty late. I missed my usual train, so I tool the one after. Got on, went to work.

Tuesday.
I arrived at Piccadilly on time, went to get on the right train. "You can't bring that bike on here!" The Virgin Trains Gestapo announced. "But that's nonsense!" I said, quite calmly, for me. "Do you have a reservation for it?" They asked. "You have to have a reservation to get a bike on any Virgin Train." Hmmm. Except when there's no-one standing around with nothing to do, evidently.

So I took the bull by the horns, and decided to book the space. I queued up, and by the time I reached the counter, I was pretty annoyed, so I said, "I'd like to book a space for my bike on that train. For the next 6 months." You should have seen her face! It was a picture of shock, and helped me get through the rest of the week. So she starts writing out, by hand, 180 bike reservations. I think to myself, this has to be the stupidest system in rail history, and say, "OK, stop at the end of the month." And then she gets stroppy because I haven't got a ticket past the end of the week! "And you can only book 3 days in advance," she adds. "So you're saying I have to be late for work twice a week?" I ask. She cannot reply. I take my 22 tickets and leave for the platform. The train pulls out, so I return to the queue for another bike reservation, for the train after. I get to work 15 minutes later than normal, upon which everyone asks if my scooter broke down. On the way back, I go to the ticket office and reserve the space. I ask where the bike section is. "Ask the platform staff, they'll be happy to help."
I ask the platform staff, and they say, "You put a bike on. Do you have a reservation?" I nod, and they say, "Well you won't get it on without a reservation." I'm getting mightily annoyed now, and start getting abrupt. The platform staff have to run with me through the pouring rain to open the guards van so I can stow the bike, and then I run across the platform to the regular carriage to sit down. All in a hurry to stop the train being late! As if I care about their timekeeping, whatever time a train comes, it makes me late for something...

Wednesday.
Things went well. I got to the platform and asked where the bike section was. "You can't put your bike on here!" they said. "Have you reserved a space?" "Yes I have. Now where's the bike section?" I reply. "At the back." I get the bike in, telling pretty much everyone from Virgin where I'm getting off. I sit down, and tell the ticket inspector where I'm getting off.
We slow down for the station, and I get my bike ready for disembarkation. There is no handle on the door, someone will have to let me out. The doors don't open. I run through the train to the next open door and wave at the staff. Eventually, as they see they're not gonna leave with me hanging out of the door, someone comes to see what I want. "Can you open the door so I can get my bike out?" I ask. "Oh, of course. Sorry, no one told me about it," he lied, as I had told him earlier.
I carry the bike over the bridge, and get on outside the station. Excellent, I think. I'll get to work before 8 for the first time since the crash. I'm wrong. The tyre is monumentally flat, and I have to push it to work. I have no pump to check if it's a flat, and no repair kit if it is.

Thursday.
I push the bike home, no trouble on the trains.