Young people are at the mercy of train services sucking up their cash – and freedom

‘Bad luck – they are usually stuck with Southeastern railway, the “worst-performing firm” of 2015.’ Photograph: Alamy

I have two young friends, in their 20s, who stay with me in London once or twice a week because they live in Kent and would otherwise have to commute. It saves them from rising at 5.30am to catch the cheaper coach instead of the train, because – bad luck – they are usually stuck with Southeastern railway, the “worst-performing firm” of 2015. They can’t afford to live up here where they mostly work and, with ticket prices rising, now they can barely afford to get here either. They are in despair over Southeastern’s new wheeze of only selling the highest-priced “Anytime” ticket if you pay on board, to avoid “inconsistency”. No discounts on railcards.

Nor can you buy weekly season tickets on the train. Well, you can if you absolutely couldn’t get one at the station on Monday – if it was unmanned, the machines were broken, the queues too long, and you can prove all that. And if they choose to believe you on board, which sometimes they don’t. It makes no difference if you felt poorly, lost your keys, the children wouldn’t get up, and you missed your booked cheap seat. It’s still top price.

There was a glimmer of hope once, when Transport for London might have taken over and run trains beyond the current fare zones, but where does London end? Plus, some boroughs don’t fancy London bossing them around, especially Epsom and Ewell, where “significant separatist sentiment still remains”. That’s transport secretary Chris Grayling’s constituency, and he has been keen to “keep suburban rail services outside the clutch of any future Labour mayor”, so my poor chums and thousands like them look stuck with Southeastern for some time.

For my friends, that means getting up at dawn, searching for the odd cheap seat after 8.15pm from a ticketing website, or staying with me or with relatives – no chance of saving for a £5,000 season ticket, never mind a home, secure future or children. “That’s not even on my horizon,” she says, standing forlornly in my kitchen. “We don’t know what to do.” “And we’re self-employed,” says he. “That’s us fucked.” Sounds about right.