The DART hates me

The DART is theoretically the Dublin Area Rapid Transit system. Yesterday, I got on one of these wonders at a few minutes past 18:00, and found myself surrounded by people. The carriage was jammed. Mostly children, some of whom were Spanish, the remainder of which were from Ballymun, an area on the north side of Dublin that resembles particularly battered bits of Kosovo, and produces an accent unrenderable in any phonetic system known to mankind. Possibly written Chinese could have a shot at it, since it seems to be tonal. The carriage was hot. Standing room only, and barely that. Someone smelled very bad, and the sea "breeze" entering the train really stunk. This trip - normally ten minutes - took until 19:00.

This morning, I was up at 06:00, bright and cheerful, ready to get to the gym and put in my hour before getting to work. However, due to the DART having "lines down" in Clontarf Road, I was left standing in Sandymount for fifty minutes. No gym, and the added pleasure of the company of everyone who ever uses Sandymount station all piling into the one small shelter to get away from the rain.

And now the web servers are throwing intermittent weird errors, and because Cold Fusion is a work of fucking genius, it doesn't identify where the Gods-bedamned errors are, only that they exist.

(no subject)

And to make everything just rosy, I have just realised - on eating a chocolate biscuit - that chocolate is making my teeth hurt. It happened just there now, and in the cinema on Sunday evening, and last week too. It's not the one tooth of "you need to see a denstist", either, it's all of them. Lovely.