Green with envy A blog by Ruth Clegg I must admit, after my great idea of putting myself through a Green Week in a bid to become the next Al Gore, when I woke up on Monday morning and realised I would be without car for a week I felt like crawling back into bed and pretending the week was over. In fact, I couldn't imagine myself without my trusty Radio 4, heater on full blast (until my poor passengers start to come over nauseous) - is that bad for the environment too? And also having the time to stop at traffic lights, peer into my rear view mirror and do my make-up. Sudden realisation hits - I had become a fully fledged car driver (something before this job I had vowed never to become) who hated the thought of public transport. Well, my Green Week didn't quite become Green Week to be totally honest, it was more of a Month Interspersed with Green Days. One of my challenges was to get from Liverpool to Dewsbury by train.... It had already started badly - I had a small family's worth of carrier bags (bags for life might I add) full of clothes with me, so anything close to a walk ended up as a frustrated wobble through Liverpool Lime Street. Humping my luggage to the departure boards I realised I was actually 45 minutes early, silently cursing my friend's timetable knowledge I looked round for a bench. No! wait! I'd just seen 11.29 to Manchester flash up on the board -four minutes until it goes. It would get me halfway there at least - running through the ticket booths a voice bellows in my ear. "So where do you think you're going?" I stop in my tracks, frantically gesturing at train and looking back at clock. "I'm going to platform five...it leaves in three minutes." "So? Where's your ticket, miss?" "Can't I pay on the train, mister?" I haughtily reply. That's going to get me nowhere..especially when I see his veins starting to bulge. Okay, King of the Tracks, here goes..."Pleeeeease..." I say, while pulling a pained face and trying to charm him at the same time. The engine starts..."Pleaaaase..." My lucky day! "Go on then" he replies.. I dash on the train only to fall back off it. The weight of the carrier bags and the smell of puke hits me. Some kind commuter had vomited at the entrance to the carriage. Busy picking my stuff up, I watch as the train chug off without me. One burning question invades my brain...why am I doing this?! Get back off the platform, pass an extremely smug-looking ticket clerk, clench fist as I imagine flooring him and return to departures board. Hmm. I need the toilet. Head to the loos at the back of the station. I nearly keel over again. What?! 30p to use the lavatory! What?! When did you have to pay to go for a wee?! To reflect the day's disasters I have a 20p and one 5p. Kicked the machine, swore and shook my fist (only waist level because the bags were too heavy mind). I eventually get on my train - only to be joined by an old drunk who wants to know where a lovely girl like myself is heading. Staight back behind the wheel of my Nissan Micra I say to myself. The pain of having no car did not end there, however; and as Monday morning rolled in I was up with the lark. Well actually I was probably up before the lark but at the same time as all these carbon free commuters get ready to negotiate trains, buses, trams, bicycles and the the prospect of walking. None seemed particluarly appealing. I was up at 6am - dried hair but decided against straighteners because of carbon conscience overtaking me - and out of the house by 7.30am. I was quite enjoying the walk which was nicely waking me up when I suddenly bolted - the bus stop I wanted was not where I first thought. In fact, Picton Road was actually the other side of Liverpool, in my widsom (of relying on directions from someone who clearly hasn't got a clue) I was now running well behind the 20 minutes walking time to bus stop I had scheduled. Panic. Curse. Saw a number 60 bus at the bottom of the street - my luck was in! This would take me to the number 10 bus on Picton Road. Started to run for it, bags flying I managed to launch myself on it just as it pulled away... Picton Road please...I gasped. £1.40... One stop..£1.40 no wonder so many folk rely on their trusty automobiles, I thought. After being hit over the head several times by kids carrying large school bags and watching one pair of halfwits stick chewing gum to the back of the seat in front of them, I jumped off the bus. Now to the number 10...Stood at the wrong bus stop first of all and started filiming the amount of cars going past to show how many are on our roads. There's a lot of them and I suppose if more people used public transport there would be less and Edge Lane where my bus was headed would not be as jammed with traffic. Finally realised this schoolboy error and dashed to the number 10 stop. After paying another £2.80 and tutting under my breath I headed to a seat, mentally preparing myself to start interrogating poor innocent commuters who were just waking up. I nervously approached one young man and explained that I was doing a Green Week and I needed a bit of input from someone using public transport and assured him that I was not a weirdo with a camera (well I was but I was getting paid for it) and that it would be really helpful if he could answer some questions. Next blog to follow soon.... ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------