capital of cussedness

An Echo photographer and myself drove out to darkest Cheshire where sculptor Stephen Broadbent has his studios and workshops.
You will be able to see and read the results of our fascinating visit a little closer towards Christmas.
But exciting though the project is, what I really wanted to highlight was my journey home.
As pre-arranged, the photographer (who lives 'across the water') dropped me off at a Wirral line train station to get back to the office.
They chose Spital, somewhere I've never travelled to or from.
And probably never will do again after this week.
One very bored looking ticket clerk stared, in a bored sort of way, at me as I dashed in and asked for a single to Liverpool.
"When's the next train please?" I asked politely, not being au fait with train times from Spital.
He said it was imminent, and proceeded to print out a ticket and count out my change v-e-r-y s-l-o-w-l-y.
At this point I admit I started jigging up and down slightly, willing him to get a move on.
"It's amazing," he said without the flicker of a smile, "how many people come in here at the last minute and expect me to hurry up."
The Echo runs an undercover column Capital of Courtesy, with a number of smily faces from one to five denoting the best - and worst - customer care in the run up to 2008.
So I'm giving Mr Spital what he gave me.....barely a flicker of a grin.