I was delighted to receive an email from the FCC book club in response to my review of March's Book of the Month (see 22nd - 26th February 2010). Here's what they said:
"I think we both know that this is not really a review of the book and more of a request for a free book. Which is a shame as having read your blog you clearly like writing and your review could have been so much better.
On this occasion we will send you a free copy of Deception, another title by Jonathan Kellerman. Perhaps next month you will put your talents to better use and write a proper review of April’s Book of the Month and earn your free copy of a book.
Enjoy you free book and next month’s book of the month.
Regards
FCC Book Club
P.s. Don't forget to update your blog, which by the way is factually inaccurate but then I guess it would not have been as amusing had you had your facts straight."
Top marks to them for responding, and for displaying a sense of humour as well. Who'd have thought it?
Apologies for the recent lack of blog updates. It had become increasingly difficult to find new things to write about trains, but I had also started to exhibit some worrying symptoms such as a hankering for an old anorak, thick facial hair, a pair of coke bottle specs and a spiral bound notebook. Clearly it was time for a break before I found myself standing on the end of a platform on a Saturday morning. Perhaps it will be temporary, perhaps permanent, but in either case, thanks for reading.
Sunday 28 March 2010
Wednesday 10 March 2010
10th March, 2010
Today was the online Meet the Managers forum. Send us your comments, they said. We will respond, they said. So I did. They didn't. If you want to have a read, here it is:
Dear Sirs
You might be surprised to learn that I am writing to congratulate you (yes, you did read that properly, congratulate).
When I last wrote to the virtual ‘Meet the Managers’ forum (14th December 2009), drawing attention to the abject misery that your so called 'service' was causing to us commuting folk, the purpose was 99.9% to provide me with just a little therapy to stave off the real prospect of my turning into a raging, gibbering madman every weekday morning and afternoon. The remaining 0.1% was a very faint hope that maybe, just maybe, adding my tuppenceworth to the mountain of complaints that must already have caused your post room and email servers to overflow might help encourage you to 'up your game'.
On reflection, and to my amazement, I think I can report success on both counts.
I can definitely report that searching desperately for some levity in the face of adversity has, indeed, been a real benefit during these long winter commuting months, and has probably staved off a brain aneurysm or two. So thank you for providing so much for us to try to laugh about.
As regards 'upping your game' your response has been quite incredible.
Looking back at the state of your service last November it seems to me that, at the most basic level, you faced three possible strategies as to how to manage the situation (assuming, that is, you believed you had a situation to manage and didn't just bury your heads in a heaving luggage rack and hope it would all go away):
Option 1. Carry on running the service as it was;
Option 2. Improve the service; or
Option 3. Make the service worse.
So what did you do?
Obviously no self respecting Virtual Management Team would choose Option 1. Leave things as they are? How would you justify your virtual existence? Also, I believe at least a few folk in reasonably high places were expecting at least some action from you.
The vast majority of sane observers would have thought Option 2 would be the obvious answer. After all, you were starting from a low base so improvement should have been easy. All you had to do was send a few more trains up and down the line at roughly the right times & we'd have been much happier.
But we'd reckoned without the intellectual capacity and of the FCC Virtual Management Team, and its ability to deliver when it really counts.
Option 1 anyone? Not possible, we’ve got to do something to keep the politicians happy. Option 2? Well it seems sensible enough. All in favour? Hang on minute, let's not be too hasty. We're still raking in the cash, we're not paying any overtime, profits are up and we've still got the franchise. What does our contract say we have to do?
Fortunately for me I'm not privy to the specific details of your contract. If I were then I might have been tempted to try and read it (although I suppose it might have seen me through a few journeys). I’m sure many lawyers were paid hundreds of thousands of pounds to write it, but it seems to me that its key content must be capable of being paraphrased as follows:
• Run a few trains in the general direction of London;
• oh, and could you run a few more during rush hour (just if it's not too much trouble);
• if it rains just do your best, we know it’s no fun in the rain;
• if it snows it’s probably not worth bothering, people will understand;
• no need to buy any new trains, just give the ones you’ve got a bit of a clean when you have a moment; and
• charge as much as you like.
So having read the contract the virtual Management Team has a dilemma:
• The contract says you have to run a service for the paying public, but the minimum service requirements it imposes are undemanding (or perhaps even non-existent).
• Your service currently stinks but it seems to meet the minimum requirements and you have, rather wonderfully, discovered that the worse it gets the more money you make.
• You have a customer base that is, almost to a man, disgusted with your service but many of whom have (a) already paid in advance for a year and (b) little alternative than to use your service.
• You also have a parent company that, presumably, is interested in profits and little else.
• Oh, and of course there are your bonuses to consider.
Do you:
• do the decent thing and improve the service for your customers (Option 2); or
• do the dastardly thing, work hard to make the service even worse, and improve your bottom line (Option 3)?
The evidence suggests that Option 3 was your clear choice albeit with a caveat that, no matter how token, there had to be some ‘window dressing’ to make it at least look as though you were trying to improve matters for the large number of people who, having paid you a significant amount of money, are rather inconveniently expecting you at least to transport them to and from their daily workplace, preferably on time and in a degree of comfort that you had recently been unable to provide.
This brings me to the first points on which I wish to congratulate you: (1) Having a proper understanding of your contract; (2) identifying the flaws in that contract that allow you to run the service in such a way that your profit increases as the service gets worse; and (3) bravely taking the decision to take full advantage of the contract flaws, regardless of the resulting misery you inflict on your paying customers.
Why was that a brave decision? Well because, thinking back to late 2009, it must have seemed an almost impossible task for you to make the service any worse. Obviously it would have been far easier to improve it, but that would have cost money. And this brings me on to my second point of congratulation. In the face of adversity (albeit with some assistance from the elements) you have managed to succeed in making an already shambolic service even worse! Here are just a few of your achievements:
• Introducing a new improved reduced service timetable which took full account of the number of drivers you didn’t have.
• Consistently failing to meet said timetable, presenting your adoring public with consistent delays, cancellations and even mystery trains that disappeared from the departure boards just as they were due to arrive.
• Failing to run a proper service (sometimes hardly any service at all) on days when it snowed, rained or was just a bit cold and damp.
• Running a fleet of rolling stock, a significant number of which don’t work in snow (a problem which didn’t seem to affect other operators to quite the same degree).
• Having to bus passengers to stations on other, working, lines when yours was not.
• Chopping 8 carriage trains in half thus creating more trains and enabling you to keep to a semblance of a timetable just so you could say you were delivering, whilst not caring that passengers were being left on the platforms as a result. I bet it was the fact that only one in every 4 carriages has a motor that prevented you sending single carriages down the line.
• Trains breaking down regularly, blocking the line so the rest of the service grinds to a halt.
• Terminating services at random destinations far short of those advertised due to ‘train failure’, ‘lack of available crew’ or simply an earlier delay making it a bit inconvenient to run that service to its intended destination.
• Informing passengers that a train will stop at all stations only for them to discover, once on board the moving train, that it does not.
So well done to you on taking a brave decision, and delivering the result you must have hoped for so spectacularly well. I hope that I am right in assuming you made a conscious decision to pursue Option 3. I couldn’t begin to imagine the levels of management incompetence that would be implied if you really had been trying to improve the service since late 2009 and had failed, so spectacularly, to do so.
And so on to the third and final point on which I wish to congratulate you. Having given us a taste of just how appallingly you can perform if you really put your minds to it, as far as I can tell you are now delivering something approaching the service we were originally complaining about towards the end of 2009. This time, however, instead of feeling rather put out that we are forced to travel on trains that are late, dirty, overcrowded, too [hot]/[cold] (delete as applicable), I now find myself feeling rather pleased when any train shows up at about the right time, almost regardless of the conditions inside. In short, you seem to have succeeded in bullying your rather inconvenient customers into accepting our miserable lot.
All in all this is quite some achievement. Perhaps even a textbook study in how to manage a service to maximise profit where there is no risk of either (a) losing your contract or (b) losing your customers. I am sure the First Group management and shareholders are delighted, and trust that your wallets are bulging.
All this, of course, is of no consolation to we poor passengers. Yes, you have offered us a 5% discount off the price of our next season ticket. You may think this is generous. I think it’s pathetic. After all we will still be paying you a large amount of money, in return for which I confidently predict that you will continue to treat us like dirt and provide us with an abysmal service.
All we can do is carry on laughing, and hoping, and my hopes are as follows:
1. That you have to travel to work on these trains too.
2. That you have misread your contract, and that (in common with properly drafted public service contracts) you are about to be hit with large scale financial penalties and the loss of your franchise for failing to deliver an acceptable service.
3. That one day you will find yourself having to deliver in a competitive market, where customers have a choice so that you are forced to realise what a proper service should look like, and discover what happens if yours is not acceptable.
4. That there is an afterlife, because if there is you will undoubtedly spend it suspended over hot coals while your sensitive underparts are prodded firmly with sharp implements, covered with jam and subjected to the tender ministrations of a swarm of angry wasps.
(By the way my guess is that you don't receive many letters of congratulation, so if you would like an original, signed copy to frame and hang in your, no doubt, lurid blue and pink boardroom you've only to ask and I will be happy to oblige.)
Oh yes, I almost forgot, got a bit carried away. Here is my question:
Referring to my list of management strategies above did you choose Option 1, Option 2 or Option 3?
Ever yours,
Ronald
Dear Sirs
You might be surprised to learn that I am writing to congratulate you (yes, you did read that properly, congratulate).
When I last wrote to the virtual ‘Meet the Managers’ forum (14th December 2009), drawing attention to the abject misery that your so called 'service' was causing to us commuting folk, the purpose was 99.9% to provide me with just a little therapy to stave off the real prospect of my turning into a raging, gibbering madman every weekday morning and afternoon. The remaining 0.1% was a very faint hope that maybe, just maybe, adding my tuppenceworth to the mountain of complaints that must already have caused your post room and email servers to overflow might help encourage you to 'up your game'.
On reflection, and to my amazement, I think I can report success on both counts.
I can definitely report that searching desperately for some levity in the face of adversity has, indeed, been a real benefit during these long winter commuting months, and has probably staved off a brain aneurysm or two. So thank you for providing so much for us to try to laugh about.
As regards 'upping your game' your response has been quite incredible.
Looking back at the state of your service last November it seems to me that, at the most basic level, you faced three possible strategies as to how to manage the situation (assuming, that is, you believed you had a situation to manage and didn't just bury your heads in a heaving luggage rack and hope it would all go away):
Option 1. Carry on running the service as it was;
Option 2. Improve the service; or
Option 3. Make the service worse.
So what did you do?
Obviously no self respecting Virtual Management Team would choose Option 1. Leave things as they are? How would you justify your virtual existence? Also, I believe at least a few folk in reasonably high places were expecting at least some action from you.
The vast majority of sane observers would have thought Option 2 would be the obvious answer. After all, you were starting from a low base so improvement should have been easy. All you had to do was send a few more trains up and down the line at roughly the right times & we'd have been much happier.
But we'd reckoned without the intellectual capacity and of the FCC Virtual Management Team, and its ability to deliver when it really counts.
Option 1 anyone? Not possible, we’ve got to do something to keep the politicians happy. Option 2? Well it seems sensible enough. All in favour? Hang on minute, let's not be too hasty. We're still raking in the cash, we're not paying any overtime, profits are up and we've still got the franchise. What does our contract say we have to do?
Fortunately for me I'm not privy to the specific details of your contract. If I were then I might have been tempted to try and read it (although I suppose it might have seen me through a few journeys). I’m sure many lawyers were paid hundreds of thousands of pounds to write it, but it seems to me that its key content must be capable of being paraphrased as follows:
• Run a few trains in the general direction of London;
• oh, and could you run a few more during rush hour (just if it's not too much trouble);
• if it rains just do your best, we know it’s no fun in the rain;
• if it snows it’s probably not worth bothering, people will understand;
• no need to buy any new trains, just give the ones you’ve got a bit of a clean when you have a moment; and
• charge as much as you like.
So having read the contract the virtual Management Team has a dilemma:
• The contract says you have to run a service for the paying public, but the minimum service requirements it imposes are undemanding (or perhaps even non-existent).
• Your service currently stinks but it seems to meet the minimum requirements and you have, rather wonderfully, discovered that the worse it gets the more money you make.
• You have a customer base that is, almost to a man, disgusted with your service but many of whom have (a) already paid in advance for a year and (b) little alternative than to use your service.
• You also have a parent company that, presumably, is interested in profits and little else.
• Oh, and of course there are your bonuses to consider.
Do you:
• do the decent thing and improve the service for your customers (Option 2); or
• do the dastardly thing, work hard to make the service even worse, and improve your bottom line (Option 3)?
The evidence suggests that Option 3 was your clear choice albeit with a caveat that, no matter how token, there had to be some ‘window dressing’ to make it at least look as though you were trying to improve matters for the large number of people who, having paid you a significant amount of money, are rather inconveniently expecting you at least to transport them to and from their daily workplace, preferably on time and in a degree of comfort that you had recently been unable to provide.
This brings me to the first points on which I wish to congratulate you: (1) Having a proper understanding of your contract; (2) identifying the flaws in that contract that allow you to run the service in such a way that your profit increases as the service gets worse; and (3) bravely taking the decision to take full advantage of the contract flaws, regardless of the resulting misery you inflict on your paying customers.
Why was that a brave decision? Well because, thinking back to late 2009, it must have seemed an almost impossible task for you to make the service any worse. Obviously it would have been far easier to improve it, but that would have cost money. And this brings me on to my second point of congratulation. In the face of adversity (albeit with some assistance from the elements) you have managed to succeed in making an already shambolic service even worse! Here are just a few of your achievements:
• Introducing a new improved reduced service timetable which took full account of the number of drivers you didn’t have.
• Consistently failing to meet said timetable, presenting your adoring public with consistent delays, cancellations and even mystery trains that disappeared from the departure boards just as they were due to arrive.
• Failing to run a proper service (sometimes hardly any service at all) on days when it snowed, rained or was just a bit cold and damp.
• Running a fleet of rolling stock, a significant number of which don’t work in snow (a problem which didn’t seem to affect other operators to quite the same degree).
• Having to bus passengers to stations on other, working, lines when yours was not.
• Chopping 8 carriage trains in half thus creating more trains and enabling you to keep to a semblance of a timetable just so you could say you were delivering, whilst not caring that passengers were being left on the platforms as a result. I bet it was the fact that only one in every 4 carriages has a motor that prevented you sending single carriages down the line.
• Trains breaking down regularly, blocking the line so the rest of the service grinds to a halt.
• Terminating services at random destinations far short of those advertised due to ‘train failure’, ‘lack of available crew’ or simply an earlier delay making it a bit inconvenient to run that service to its intended destination.
• Informing passengers that a train will stop at all stations only for them to discover, once on board the moving train, that it does not.
So well done to you on taking a brave decision, and delivering the result you must have hoped for so spectacularly well. I hope that I am right in assuming you made a conscious decision to pursue Option 3. I couldn’t begin to imagine the levels of management incompetence that would be implied if you really had been trying to improve the service since late 2009 and had failed, so spectacularly, to do so.
And so on to the third and final point on which I wish to congratulate you. Having given us a taste of just how appallingly you can perform if you really put your minds to it, as far as I can tell you are now delivering something approaching the service we were originally complaining about towards the end of 2009. This time, however, instead of feeling rather put out that we are forced to travel on trains that are late, dirty, overcrowded, too [hot]/[cold] (delete as applicable), I now find myself feeling rather pleased when any train shows up at about the right time, almost regardless of the conditions inside. In short, you seem to have succeeded in bullying your rather inconvenient customers into accepting our miserable lot.
All in all this is quite some achievement. Perhaps even a textbook study in how to manage a service to maximise profit where there is no risk of either (a) losing your contract or (b) losing your customers. I am sure the First Group management and shareholders are delighted, and trust that your wallets are bulging.
All this, of course, is of no consolation to we poor passengers. Yes, you have offered us a 5% discount off the price of our next season ticket. You may think this is generous. I think it’s pathetic. After all we will still be paying you a large amount of money, in return for which I confidently predict that you will continue to treat us like dirt and provide us with an abysmal service.
All we can do is carry on laughing, and hoping, and my hopes are as follows:
1. That you have to travel to work on these trains too.
2. That you have misread your contract, and that (in common with properly drafted public service contracts) you are about to be hit with large scale financial penalties and the loss of your franchise for failing to deliver an acceptable service.
3. That one day you will find yourself having to deliver in a competitive market, where customers have a choice so that you are forced to realise what a proper service should look like, and discover what happens if yours is not acceptable.
4. That there is an afterlife, because if there is you will undoubtedly spend it suspended over hot coals while your sensitive underparts are prodded firmly with sharp implements, covered with jam and subjected to the tender ministrations of a swarm of angry wasps.
(By the way my guess is that you don't receive many letters of congratulation, so if you would like an original, signed copy to frame and hang in your, no doubt, lurid blue and pink boardroom you've only to ask and I will be happy to oblige.)
Oh yes, I almost forgot, got a bit carried away. Here is my question:
Referring to my list of management strategies above did you choose Option 1, Option 2 or Option 3?
Ever yours,
Ronald
Thursday 25 February 2010
22nd to 26th February, 2010
Minutes from FCC's February board meeting:
Managing Director: Right, now that the snow's over we really need to get back onside with our customers. Any ideas?
Operations Director: What about some new trains to improve reliability and customer comfort.
Managing Director: Bloody ridiculous. That'll cost far too much. We've already bought them three new trains, and we turned those into six by chopping them in half. What more do you think they want?
Operations Director: Ok, how about we just get the old trains in, clean them up a bit, paint all the poles inside the carriage with some of that shocking pink we've got left over and tell them we've made them more reliable. That ought to keep them happy.
Managing Director: Brilliant.
Customer Services Director: What about offering them a few free tickets?
Managing Director: Are you having a laugh. You caused enough trouble last time when you offered them 5 free days travel. And when that wasn't good enough for the miserable gits those government johnnies made us pretend to offer them more. I spent a whole journey to work in my chauffeur driven limo working out that a 5% discount off a season ticket cost about the same as 5 free days travel. If you think I'm going through that again you must be off your head.
HR Director: Well, it's nearly Spring, the sun will be out, the trees will be green. If we plant a few daffodils near the stations and put some fluffy lambs in the fields next to the tracks then they'll soon all be smili .....
Managing Director: Why don't you just shut up and get out.
HR Director: What?
Managing Director: You heard me.
HR Director: I ... I ... I'm telling on you. I'm going to phone the anti-bullying helpline.
Managing Director: The anti-bullying helpline. You'd be better off emailing our customer services team, now GET OUT!
Marketing Director: What about a book club.
Managing Director: What the hell are you talking about.
Marketing Director: A book club. Think about it. We pick a Book of the Month. Doesn't have to be any good, just whatever turkey a publisher will offer us most money to promote. Get them to give us a few free copies of from their unsold stockpile. Then we do a profit share deal with Smiths and give the punters a pound off, so it will still cost them more than if they bought it off Amazon. We get them to send in reviews and offer a prize for the best one.
Managing Director: Prize? That sounds expensive.
Marketing Director: No, we just give them a copy of the book they've just read. The punters will love it. They'll be so busy reading that they won't notice how bad the service is.
Managing Director: I love it. Get it done, now.
Revenue Maximisation Director: Yeah, and we could get the ticket inspectors to give on the spot fines to anyone we find reading a different book.
Managing Director: Now you really are taking the p**s ...
And so the FCC Book Club is born! I'm serious. Put 'book club' into their website search engine to find out more. Here's what they have say about it:
'Each month we will be reviewing a range of titles and selecting a Book of the Month for your reading enjoyment. You will be able to read an extract from the book, receive an exclusive discount on each title, as well as have the chance to win great competition prizes. Plus if you are one of the first to send us your review you could win a signed copy of the book!'
Fantastic! Their first book of the month is 'Evidence' by Jonathan Kellerman, and you can download a voucher to save £1 off the purchase price at WH Smith. That should bring it down to £16.99, a mere £5.50 more than the Amazon price. I've already sent them my review. It read: 'It's really great. My train journey flew by.' I'll let you know if I get my free copy.
A pretty good travel week, at least from Monday to Thursday.
Chuckle of the week came on Thursday morning aboard the 8.15 semi-fast from St Albans. We stopped at Mill Hill and waited, and waited a bit more. Eventually we heard the announcement: 'Would the passenger who is blocking the doors please stop so we can get on our way.' We waited some more. Then 'I'm not going to come down and help you. Holding the doors open isn't going to do you any good. You are only delaying the train. If you want to recover your property you will have to let the train go and ask the station staff to get it for you.'
It seems that some poor soul had dropped something down the side of the train and decided that the best way to retrieve it was to stop the train. To give them some credit, I suppose at least they gained the attention of the platform crew. I wonder what it was, and whether they did get it back. Eventually we were on our way and, as we pulled out of the station, I thought I caught sight of someone sitting on the platform naughty step.
Then came Friday morning. I arrived at St Albans in time for the 8.16, which appeared to be standing at the platform. Early? Surely not. No. Turned out to be the 8.11, still sitting in the station. With the 8.16 shown as on time I decided not to board the already crowded 8.11 and wait for a seat instead. Turned out to be a long wait. A train had 'broken down' at City Thameslink. For some reason this was preventing any trains, Northbound or Southbound, travelling through London and had brought the entire line to a halt (apart, of course, from the East Coast mainline pleasure trip specials which continued to thunder past with the commuter network at a standstill).
Around 40 minutes later the 8.11 set off. FCC's habit at these times is to get back on schedule by rebranding some trains that are already en route, and terminating others at random stations without warning. Today was no exception. The 8.11 set off as the delayed 8.11. Then the two 8.16s had mysteriously merged into one, and so on.
But today was the day that people power prevailed, as FCC decided to terminate one Southbound service at Cricklewood. This service was originally intended to travel through London and, as far as I know, wasn't even supposed to stop at Cricklewood. To their great credit some passengers refused to get off. Despite threats from the driver to call the police the mutinous passengers prevailed and the service continued. Well played!
You can bet that next time the train will have developed a mysterious fault!
Managing Director: Right, now that the snow's over we really need to get back onside with our customers. Any ideas?
Operations Director: What about some new trains to improve reliability and customer comfort.
Managing Director: Bloody ridiculous. That'll cost far too much. We've already bought them three new trains, and we turned those into six by chopping them in half. What more do you think they want?
Operations Director: Ok, how about we just get the old trains in, clean them up a bit, paint all the poles inside the carriage with some of that shocking pink we've got left over and tell them we've made them more reliable. That ought to keep them happy.
Managing Director: Brilliant.
Customer Services Director: What about offering them a few free tickets?
Managing Director: Are you having a laugh. You caused enough trouble last time when you offered them 5 free days travel. And when that wasn't good enough for the miserable gits those government johnnies made us pretend to offer them more. I spent a whole journey to work in my chauffeur driven limo working out that a 5% discount off a season ticket cost about the same as 5 free days travel. If you think I'm going through that again you must be off your head.
HR Director: Well, it's nearly Spring, the sun will be out, the trees will be green. If we plant a few daffodils near the stations and put some fluffy lambs in the fields next to the tracks then they'll soon all be smili .....
Managing Director: Why don't you just shut up and get out.
HR Director: What?
Managing Director: You heard me.
HR Director: I ... I ... I'm telling on you. I'm going to phone the anti-bullying helpline.
Managing Director: The anti-bullying helpline. You'd be better off emailing our customer services team, now GET OUT!
Marketing Director: What about a book club.
Managing Director: What the hell are you talking about.
Marketing Director: A book club. Think about it. We pick a Book of the Month. Doesn't have to be any good, just whatever turkey a publisher will offer us most money to promote. Get them to give us a few free copies of from their unsold stockpile. Then we do a profit share deal with Smiths and give the punters a pound off, so it will still cost them more than if they bought it off Amazon. We get them to send in reviews and offer a prize for the best one.
Managing Director: Prize? That sounds expensive.
Marketing Director: No, we just give them a copy of the book they've just read. The punters will love it. They'll be so busy reading that they won't notice how bad the service is.
Managing Director: I love it. Get it done, now.
Revenue Maximisation Director: Yeah, and we could get the ticket inspectors to give on the spot fines to anyone we find reading a different book.
Managing Director: Now you really are taking the p**s ...
And so the FCC Book Club is born! I'm serious. Put 'book club' into their website search engine to find out more. Here's what they have say about it:
'Each month we will be reviewing a range of titles and selecting a Book of the Month for your reading enjoyment. You will be able to read an extract from the book, receive an exclusive discount on each title, as well as have the chance to win great competition prizes. Plus if you are one of the first to send us your review you could win a signed copy of the book!'
Fantastic! Their first book of the month is 'Evidence' by Jonathan Kellerman, and you can download a voucher to save £1 off the purchase price at WH Smith. That should bring it down to £16.99, a mere £5.50 more than the Amazon price. I've already sent them my review. It read: 'It's really great. My train journey flew by.' I'll let you know if I get my free copy.
A pretty good travel week, at least from Monday to Thursday.
Chuckle of the week came on Thursday morning aboard the 8.15 semi-fast from St Albans. We stopped at Mill Hill and waited, and waited a bit more. Eventually we heard the announcement: 'Would the passenger who is blocking the doors please stop so we can get on our way.' We waited some more. Then 'I'm not going to come down and help you. Holding the doors open isn't going to do you any good. You are only delaying the train. If you want to recover your property you will have to let the train go and ask the station staff to get it for you.'
It seems that some poor soul had dropped something down the side of the train and decided that the best way to retrieve it was to stop the train. To give them some credit, I suppose at least they gained the attention of the platform crew. I wonder what it was, and whether they did get it back. Eventually we were on our way and, as we pulled out of the station, I thought I caught sight of someone sitting on the platform naughty step.
Then came Friday morning. I arrived at St Albans in time for the 8.16, which appeared to be standing at the platform. Early? Surely not. No. Turned out to be the 8.11, still sitting in the station. With the 8.16 shown as on time I decided not to board the already crowded 8.11 and wait for a seat instead. Turned out to be a long wait. A train had 'broken down' at City Thameslink. For some reason this was preventing any trains, Northbound or Southbound, travelling through London and had brought the entire line to a halt (apart, of course, from the East Coast mainline pleasure trip specials which continued to thunder past with the commuter network at a standstill).
Around 40 minutes later the 8.11 set off. FCC's habit at these times is to get back on schedule by rebranding some trains that are already en route, and terminating others at random stations without warning. Today was no exception. The 8.11 set off as the delayed 8.11. Then the two 8.16s had mysteriously merged into one, and so on.
But today was the day that people power prevailed, as FCC decided to terminate one Southbound service at Cricklewood. This service was originally intended to travel through London and, as far as I know, wasn't even supposed to stop at Cricklewood. To their great credit some passengers refused to get off. Despite threats from the driver to call the police the mutinous passengers prevailed and the service continued. Well played!
You can bet that next time the train will have developed a mysterious fault!
Sunday 21 February 2010
Saturday 20th February, 2010
Home time. We load the car, start the engine and set off, bang on our planned departure time of 7.55 am. At 7.55 am and 30 seconds we are sliding gracefully back down the chalet drive, the traction advantages of front wheel drive overcome by a combination of fresh snow, a full boot, driver plus 3 passengers and low profile tyres. A liberal coating of salt is applied to the drive, the passengers discarded and we make a second, fruitless attempt. The drive is now offering all the grip of the Whistler luge track. More salt is applied & Mrs W installed behind the wheel, her delicate touch deemed more suitable to the conditions. A third attempt is made and, with engine screaming and wheels spinning, she reaches the summit and is away, hotly pursued on foot by myself and the junior Wilds. We clamber aboard like a well drilled 4 man bobsleigh team, and gain momentum as we head down the mountain.
We battle peage queues, traffic jams, regular screams of 'they're braking' from Mrs W, petrol queues, toilet queues, the Eurotunnel, the M25, tiredness, DVT and the disappointment of a 94th minute equaliser by Scunthorpe and arrive home after 14.5 hours on the road. A long trip, but worth every minute.
Thank you to our great friends Jackie, Steve, Jenna, Ben, Andy, Cameron & Scott for your excellent company, to Michelle, Gordon & Sarah (ChezMichelleMorzine) for being magnificent hosts and to Paul (The Edge Snowsports) for the superb tuition. See you next year.
We battle peage queues, traffic jams, regular screams of 'they're braking' from Mrs W, petrol queues, toilet queues, the Eurotunnel, the M25, tiredness, DVT and the disappointment of a 94th minute equaliser by Scunthorpe and arrive home after 14.5 hours on the road. A long trip, but worth every minute.
Thank you to our great friends Jackie, Steve, Jenna, Ben, Andy, Cameron & Scott for your excellent company, to Michelle, Gordon & Sarah (ChezMichelleMorzine) for being magnificent hosts and to Paul (The Edge Snowsports) for the superb tuition. See you next year.
Thursday 18 February 2010
Tuesday 16th - Friday 19th February, 2010
Reflections on a magnificent week in the French Alps:
A top holiday. Excellent company, plenty of snow, great chalet & superb food. Here are a few random memories.
I took the opportunity to ski on my own for a short while on Tuesday. During this time I sat on 6 ski lifts. Here is a summary of my experiences:
On one occasion I had the chair to myself.
On 4 occasions I shared the lift with French people, ranging in age from 11 to around 65. After the initial exchange of elbows in the queue they were, without exception, absolutely charming. They all offered an initial greeting, allowed me to practice my pigeon French and proved to be very engaging companions for each 5 - 10 minute ride.
On the sixth occasion I filled an empty space on a chair between 2 English people. I know they were English because, as soon as I had moved into said space, the chap to my left offered a sarcastic 'thanks very much'. I looked to my right & realised I had inadvertently sat between him and his son. I apologised, and offered a conciliatory remark which was completely ignored and, for the duration of the journey, I was made to feel about as welcome as an unflushed turd in Mrs W's freshly cleaned commode. I thought better of pointing out that I had every right to occupy any empty seat on a chairlift, and that had he wanted to sit next to his son he should not have left a space in between them. Instead I kept silent and reflected on the fact that, out of 6 chairlift journeys, I only encountered one ignorant, obnoxious person, and that person also happened to be the only Brit I sat with. Coincidence? I hope so, but I fear not.
One afternoon the unthinkable happened - the cable car broke down. Memories of FCC came flooding back as we debated what to do. The choice was simple: (a) stay in the queue and hope they fix it quickly, or (b) hop across to the, by now, spectacularly busy chairlift. Eventually we decided on plan b. Good move! Although we arrived 15 minutes late for a lesson, we later heard that the cable car had been out of action for around 2 hours. Bad enough for those of us trying to get up the hill, but far worse for those trapped inside. Whilst each car provides perfectly functional accommodation for 6 people taking a five minute ride to the top of a mountain they are not spectacularly well equipped to deal with the either the ingestion or excretion requirements of those six people over a 2 hour period. I imagine that some slopping out may have been required.
During a Vin Chaud stop after one of our lessons we discovered that it takes a minimum of 6 years to become a fully qualified ski instructor in the Alps, and that the key stumpling block to qualification tends to be the 'speed test'. As far as I can recall from our conversation this requires the candidate to complete 2 runs down a championship standard Giant Slalom course within an 18% margin above a benchmark time. Said benchmark time is the average of runs set by 3 world championship standard skiers (Alain Baxter, bronze medal winner at the 2002 Olympics, was one such skier this year - so they are not messing around). Seriously scary, it can take many attempts just to pass this element and many never get there. A dark race suit is de rigeur so as not to highlight the brown 'go faster' stripe.
Now what else happened .... oh yes, our chalet caught fire. Just after we'd finished our first course one evening there was a loud banging on the door and two very excited ladies pointing at the roof. We hurried out to see that the chimney had turned into a Roman candle, flames shooting skywards. The ladies' primary concern was that we should call the fire brigade. Their secondary concern was that we would have to pay for said Fire Brigade to attend as we were not French! We were reassured to learn from our chalet hosts that the Fire Station was brand new, located close to town for rapid response, and with state of the art equipment. They were duly summoned. We waited outside while our hosts went back inside to set about the fire. 25 minutes later the fire was out, and the fire brigade arrived with wailing sirens, flashing lights and very shiny chrome helmets. They charged excitedly into the chalet, charged out again, climbed up on the roof and climbed down again. Clearly disappointed to find nothing to point their high powered hoses at, they reluctantly allowed us back into the chalet to resume our dinner while they set about clearing the chimney. This involved one brave fellow (Vincent) on the roof, shouting down the chimney at his colleague in the lounge, telling him where to stick his poker for maximum effect. After dislodging several kilos of charcoal and dust they appeared satisfied and retired outside to share a glass of wine, or several, with our host who eventually persuaded them to leave with the aid of a case of red. All very convivial, but I suspect that if the fire had really taken hold there would not have been much chalet left by the time they arrived. Still, all's well that ends well.
A top holiday. Excellent company, plenty of snow, great chalet & superb food. Here are a few random memories.
I took the opportunity to ski on my own for a short while on Tuesday. During this time I sat on 6 ski lifts. Here is a summary of my experiences:
On one occasion I had the chair to myself.
On 4 occasions I shared the lift with French people, ranging in age from 11 to around 65. After the initial exchange of elbows in the queue they were, without exception, absolutely charming. They all offered an initial greeting, allowed me to practice my pigeon French and proved to be very engaging companions for each 5 - 10 minute ride.
On the sixth occasion I filled an empty space on a chair between 2 English people. I know they were English because, as soon as I had moved into said space, the chap to my left offered a sarcastic 'thanks very much'. I looked to my right & realised I had inadvertently sat between him and his son. I apologised, and offered a conciliatory remark which was completely ignored and, for the duration of the journey, I was made to feel about as welcome as an unflushed turd in Mrs W's freshly cleaned commode. I thought better of pointing out that I had every right to occupy any empty seat on a chairlift, and that had he wanted to sit next to his son he should not have left a space in between them. Instead I kept silent and reflected on the fact that, out of 6 chairlift journeys, I only encountered one ignorant, obnoxious person, and that person also happened to be the only Brit I sat with. Coincidence? I hope so, but I fear not.
One afternoon the unthinkable happened - the cable car broke down. Memories of FCC came flooding back as we debated what to do. The choice was simple: (a) stay in the queue and hope they fix it quickly, or (b) hop across to the, by now, spectacularly busy chairlift. Eventually we decided on plan b. Good move! Although we arrived 15 minutes late for a lesson, we later heard that the cable car had been out of action for around 2 hours. Bad enough for those of us trying to get up the hill, but far worse for those trapped inside. Whilst each car provides perfectly functional accommodation for 6 people taking a five minute ride to the top of a mountain they are not spectacularly well equipped to deal with the either the ingestion or excretion requirements of those six people over a 2 hour period. I imagine that some slopping out may have been required.
During a Vin Chaud stop after one of our lessons we discovered that it takes a minimum of 6 years to become a fully qualified ski instructor in the Alps, and that the key stumpling block to qualification tends to be the 'speed test'. As far as I can recall from our conversation this requires the candidate to complete 2 runs down a championship standard Giant Slalom course within an 18% margin above a benchmark time. Said benchmark time is the average of runs set by 3 world championship standard skiers (Alain Baxter, bronze medal winner at the 2002 Olympics, was one such skier this year - so they are not messing around). Seriously scary, it can take many attempts just to pass this element and many never get there. A dark race suit is de rigeur so as not to highlight the brown 'go faster' stripe.
Now what else happened .... oh yes, our chalet caught fire. Just after we'd finished our first course one evening there was a loud banging on the door and two very excited ladies pointing at the roof. We hurried out to see that the chimney had turned into a Roman candle, flames shooting skywards. The ladies' primary concern was that we should call the fire brigade. Their secondary concern was that we would have to pay for said Fire Brigade to attend as we were not French! We were reassured to learn from our chalet hosts that the Fire Station was brand new, located close to town for rapid response, and with state of the art equipment. They were duly summoned. We waited outside while our hosts went back inside to set about the fire. 25 minutes later the fire was out, and the fire brigade arrived with wailing sirens, flashing lights and very shiny chrome helmets. They charged excitedly into the chalet, charged out again, climbed up on the roof and climbed down again. Clearly disappointed to find nothing to point their high powered hoses at, they reluctantly allowed us back into the chalet to resume our dinner while they set about clearing the chimney. This involved one brave fellow (Vincent) on the roof, shouting down the chimney at his colleague in the lounge, telling him where to stick his poker for maximum effect. After dislodging several kilos of charcoal and dust they appeared satisfied and retired outside to share a glass of wine, or several, with our host who eventually persuaded them to leave with the aid of a case of red. All very convivial, but I suspect that if the fire had really taken hold there would not have been much chalet left by the time they arrived. Still, all's well that ends well.
Monday 15th February, 2010
There are certain similarities between ski holiday & working week mornings. Firstly you are required to get out of bed earlier than really feels healthy. Then you pull on a set of clothes that ordinarily you wouldn't want to be seen wearing in public. Then you trudge to the ski lift to join thousands of other punters all trying to get to the same place at the same time using the only mode of transport realistically available, having already paid a large sum of money for the privilege of doing so. Still, at least the cable car doesn't break down, the general humour is rather better, and there is the promise of much fun at the other end.
Today is first lesson day & we meet Paul, L'instructeur (The Edge Snowsports), at the top. Paul is a very fine fellow indeed. Endlessly patient & good humoured, he explains the basic principles to us with great clarity and enthusiasm, even though he's done it thousands of times before, and in a meaningful way, so that it is easy to put it into practice. He also finds challenges appropriate to the level of all group members so that everyone's confidence is boosted, rather than damaged.
I learned more in 5 minutes from Paul than I did in a whole week the year previous year when the best our instructor could manage was 'You ski like you are driving a Jaguar'. Initially I'd been quite pleased with this, as I thought driving a Jaguar would generally be regarded as a good thing. But eventually, as I excavated snow from my nostrils for perhaps the tenth time, it occurred to me that perhaps he might not be praising my technique, although when pressed he offered no useful remedial advice. All holiday I was approached by strangers saying they recognised me from the indentations of my face in the piste.
Back to today and, brimming with confidence after today's lesson, one of our number suggests returning to base via a route 'no more difficult than we had just done'. We were soon staring down a near vertical drop which had clearly been mislabelled on the map. It should've had a skull & crossbones next to it. At this point it dawns on me that skiing well seems to be at least 90% about overcoming your self preservation instinct. With brain telling me I absolutely should not be launching myself down this mountain, and sphincter muscle set to high pitched squeak, I set off and, thanks to the expert tuition, complete the journey mostly on ski, with no major damage but with a healthy regard for my own limitations.
Back to the chalet for cake, tea and dinner. A special birthday dinner for one of our party cooked by our excellent chalet hosts. Afterwards, the younger members of our group prepared a special delicacy for us called 'Jager Bombs'. A delightful concoction of Jagermeister (an evil spirit made from a blend of 50 herbs and spices - why does anything need to contain 50 herbs and spices?) mixed with Red Bull and apparently a special favourite of students the world over. We show those youngsters a thing or two, and retire to bed.
Today is first lesson day & we meet Paul, L'instructeur (The Edge Snowsports), at the top. Paul is a very fine fellow indeed. Endlessly patient & good humoured, he explains the basic principles to us with great clarity and enthusiasm, even though he's done it thousands of times before, and in a meaningful way, so that it is easy to put it into practice. He also finds challenges appropriate to the level of all group members so that everyone's confidence is boosted, rather than damaged.
I learned more in 5 minutes from Paul than I did in a whole week the year previous year when the best our instructor could manage was 'You ski like you are driving a Jaguar'. Initially I'd been quite pleased with this, as I thought driving a Jaguar would generally be regarded as a good thing. But eventually, as I excavated snow from my nostrils for perhaps the tenth time, it occurred to me that perhaps he might not be praising my technique, although when pressed he offered no useful remedial advice. All holiday I was approached by strangers saying they recognised me from the indentations of my face in the piste.
Back to today and, brimming with confidence after today's lesson, one of our number suggests returning to base via a route 'no more difficult than we had just done'. We were soon staring down a near vertical drop which had clearly been mislabelled on the map. It should've had a skull & crossbones next to it. At this point it dawns on me that skiing well seems to be at least 90% about overcoming your self preservation instinct. With brain telling me I absolutely should not be launching myself down this mountain, and sphincter muscle set to high pitched squeak, I set off and, thanks to the expert tuition, complete the journey mostly on ski, with no major damage but with a healthy regard for my own limitations.
Back to the chalet for cake, tea and dinner. A special birthday dinner for one of our party cooked by our excellent chalet hosts. Afterwards, the younger members of our group prepared a special delicacy for us called 'Jager Bombs'. A delightful concoction of Jagermeister (an evil spirit made from a blend of 50 herbs and spices - why does anything need to contain 50 herbs and spices?) mixed with Red Bull and apparently a special favourite of students the world over. We show those youngsters a thing or two, and retire to bed.
Sunday 14 February 2010
Sunday 14th February, 2010
Bloody valentine's day, I hate it. Mrs Wild & I exchange cards & a peck on the cheek before donning knee supports, blister plasters, thermal underwear, matching skin tight yellow & pink spandex suits & expensive instruments of torture, otherwise known as ski boots.
We deliver Master W to his ski lesson (Category - British Olympic hopeful; Target - basic snowplough) and off we set for the bubble lift. After intensive queuing (French style) we barge our way into a cable car and arrive, exhausted, at the summit. We head to the cafteria for a rest.
Suitably fortified we head back down, in the bubble lift, to collect Master W at the end of his lesson, have lunch and our afternoon nap.
Back up in the bubble, and we hit the piste. We speed, stylishly, down the nursery slope as the locals cast admiring glances at our outfits. But it's a bit chilly, so we head back down for tea, cake, a hot bath & dinner.
There is mild excitement during the evening as, for reasons best known to himself, one of our party plunges headlong down the chalet stairs into the basement. Fortunately he appears to suffer nothing worse than a mild concussion, carpet burn to the forehead, and fractured ribs & wrist. We allow him a strict ration of ice for his ribs (ensuring sufficient remains for our G&Ts) & set his wrist such that his fingers adopt a beer bottle holding shape, & the evening continues successfully.
Early to bed in anticipation of another very busy day tomorrow.
We deliver Master W to his ski lesson (Category - British Olympic hopeful; Target - basic snowplough) and off we set for the bubble lift. After intensive queuing (French style) we barge our way into a cable car and arrive, exhausted, at the summit. We head to the cafteria for a rest.
Suitably fortified we head back down, in the bubble lift, to collect Master W at the end of his lesson, have lunch and our afternoon nap.
Back up in the bubble, and we hit the piste. We speed, stylishly, down the nursery slope as the locals cast admiring glances at our outfits. But it's a bit chilly, so we head back down for tea, cake, a hot bath & dinner.
There is mild excitement during the evening as, for reasons best known to himself, one of our party plunges headlong down the chalet stairs into the basement. Fortunately he appears to suffer nothing worse than a mild concussion, carpet burn to the forehead, and fractured ribs & wrist. We allow him a strict ration of ice for his ribs (ensuring sufficient remains for our G&Ts) & set his wrist such that his fingers adopt a beer bottle holding shape, & the evening continues successfully.
Early to bed in anticipation of another very busy day tomorrow.
Saturday 13th February, 2010
Up at le craque d'awn and off we set for the resort. We set a blistering pace until Mrs Wild's inbuilt radar kicks in and we have to slow down. Mrs W is none too comfortable in cars either and the radar is set at approx 80mph (if she is in the back with glasses off) or 60mph (if she is in the front with glasses on). Guess which I prefer. I daren't tell her the speed in kmh.
Fortunately everyone else is soon asleep and I'm left to my own devices. Bliss. There's a momentary scare as I hit the only pothole in France, but fortunately they all soon settle down again quickly and we pound on to the first fuel stop.
I hand over driving duties to Mrs W. We pull out of the service station at le vitesse de l'escargot and I'm ashamed to say that I immediately start to display all of my appalling shortcomings as a passenger. Furtive glances across at the speedometer, wincing at the gearchanges, and reaching across with my silver tipped cane to press the accelerator. Of course I realise that none of this is the slightest bit helpful, but I just can't help myself.
Eventually it pays off, and I am handed the honour of the final driving stint into the resort. Thank goodness we have no need of snow chains. It's not that I don't have any. In fact I purchased some at great expense, only to read in the owners handbook that they should not be used with the particular model that I own. I don't know why, but naturally I am none too keen to find out. At least we'd have been better off than friends we bumped into at the Eurotunnel terminal. They had invested in 'snow socks'. Hmmm. Now I'm no physicist, but what I do know about the traction properties of socks on slippery surfaces suggests to me that this may be a solution of somewhat dubious merit. I hope they didn't get to find out.
We head for the hire shop. After Mrs and Miss Wild come over all unnecessary at the sight of the shop manager we gather our equipment and off we set at full speed ... back to the chalet for drinks, dinner and bed.
Fortunately everyone else is soon asleep and I'm left to my own devices. Bliss. There's a momentary scare as I hit the only pothole in France, but fortunately they all soon settle down again quickly and we pound on to the first fuel stop.
I hand over driving duties to Mrs W. We pull out of the service station at le vitesse de l'escargot and I'm ashamed to say that I immediately start to display all of my appalling shortcomings as a passenger. Furtive glances across at the speedometer, wincing at the gearchanges, and reaching across with my silver tipped cane to press the accelerator. Of course I realise that none of this is the slightest bit helpful, but I just can't help myself.
Eventually it pays off, and I am handed the honour of the final driving stint into the resort. Thank goodness we have no need of snow chains. It's not that I don't have any. In fact I purchased some at great expense, only to read in the owners handbook that they should not be used with the particular model that I own. I don't know why, but naturally I am none too keen to find out. At least we'd have been better off than friends we bumped into at the Eurotunnel terminal. They had invested in 'snow socks'. Hmmm. Now I'm no physicist, but what I do know about the traction properties of socks on slippery surfaces suggests to me that this may be a solution of somewhat dubious merit. I hope they didn't get to find out.
We head for the hire shop. After Mrs and Miss Wild come over all unnecessary at the sight of the shop manager we gather our equipment and off we set at full speed ... back to the chalet for drinks, dinner and bed.
Friday 12th February, 2010
Wilds on holiday:
Heading for France for half term skiing. Packed the car (yes, the car. The current Mrs Wild does not like to fly), dropped the kids at the cattery & headed south. Heard miaow from back, realised our mistake, headed north, dropped cat, retrieved kids, headed south again. Heard arguing from back. That's better.
Wow. The snow's fantastic...in Kent. Resulting Eurotunnel delays are 1.5 hours. Almost FCC levels. Fortunately we are 1.5 hours early, so that all works out fine.
Under the channel we go, & soon we are experiencing the joys of French motoring. And I really do mean joys. I love it.
First of all they drive in kilometers, and when you drive in kilometers you get to your destination much quicker than if you drive in miles. In fact, I have taken to driving in kilometers in the uk wherever possible. I'm surprised more people don't.
Second, the French drive properly on motorways. Move out, overtake, move back in again. Such a simple concept, yet somehow we British are too simple to grasp it. An Englishmans middle lane is his castle and all that.
Third they sure do know how to build roads. Temperatures sub zero, snow all the way & roads billiard table smooth. Why can't we do that?
We reach our overnight halt in decent time. Fortunately it's late, so we are simply grateful for our beds & too tired to spend much time studying the peeling wallpaper & threadbare carpet.
Heading for France for half term skiing. Packed the car (yes, the car. The current Mrs Wild does not like to fly), dropped the kids at the cattery & headed south. Heard miaow from back, realised our mistake, headed north, dropped cat, retrieved kids, headed south again. Heard arguing from back. That's better.
Wow. The snow's fantastic...in Kent. Resulting Eurotunnel delays are 1.5 hours. Almost FCC levels. Fortunately we are 1.5 hours early, so that all works out fine.
Under the channel we go, & soon we are experiencing the joys of French motoring. And I really do mean joys. I love it.
First of all they drive in kilometers, and when you drive in kilometers you get to your destination much quicker than if you drive in miles. In fact, I have taken to driving in kilometers in the uk wherever possible. I'm surprised more people don't.
Second, the French drive properly on motorways. Move out, overtake, move back in again. Such a simple concept, yet somehow we British are too simple to grasp it. An Englishmans middle lane is his castle and all that.
Third they sure do know how to build roads. Temperatures sub zero, snow all the way & roads billiard table smooth. Why can't we do that?
We reach our overnight halt in decent time. Fortunately it's late, so we are simply grateful for our beds & too tired to spend much time studying the peeling wallpaper & threadbare carpet.
Thursday 11 February 2010
Thursday 11th February, 2010
Late departure for me this morning. Boarded a fast train and off we set ... to Radlett. Hang on, we're not supposed to be stopping here. We sat, we waited, and we waited some more. Driver informs us that there is a points problem (well I suppose it was a bit chilly) and that we would only be going as far as St P. Could've been worse I suppose.
Off we set, rattled across some working points and slunk into the overground station, next to the mighty Eurostars. I could almost feel the train's yellow face turning FCC pink with shame.
4 carriage cattle train on the way home. Described as a mobile veal crate by a fellow passenger. Spot on, I thought.
Off we set, rattled across some working points and slunk into the overground station, next to the mighty Eurostars. I could almost feel the train's yellow face turning FCC pink with shame.
4 carriage cattle train on the way home. Described as a mobile veal crate by a fellow passenger. Spot on, I thought.
Tuesday 9th February, 2010
Mid afternoon Eurostar back to London. Same again in reverse and arrived on time. All I needed was for FCC to take me the last 20 miles of my journey to St Albans in time to head to Vicarage Road to watch the glory Hornet boys in action. Should be no problem, plenty of time in hand.
Arrived at FCC entrance to see a train was due in 2 minutes, and running on time. Perfect! Sprinted down to platform to find that, in the space of 30 seconds it had been delayed by 15 minutes. I waited, waited some more, and looked back at the departure board to see that it, and several other trains that would have been suitable, had been cancelled. Eventually forced my way onto a slow train and made it home just in time.
Arrived at FCC entrance to see a train was due in 2 minutes, and running on time. Perfect! Sprinted down to platform to find that, in the space of 30 seconds it had been delayed by 15 minutes. I waited, waited some more, and looked back at the departure board to see that it, and several other trains that would have been suitable, had been cancelled. Eventually forced my way onto a slow train and made it home just in time.
Monday 8th February, 2010
No dramas this morning.
Eurostar to Paris this evening. Nice warm departure lounge, nice clean train, left on time, went very, very fast, didn't break down and arrived on time. Now that's the way to do it!
Eurostar to Paris this evening. Nice warm departure lounge, nice clean train, left on time, went very, very fast, didn't break down and arrived on time. Now that's the way to do it!
Friday 5 February 2010
Friday 5th February, 2010
Arrived at station this morning, ears numb after an evening's entertainment with Rammstein last night. Thought I heard the station announcer apologising for the screens showing duff information. Must have misheard. No, there it is again. Blimey, its taken them long enough to realise that!
No travel problems today.
Met the managers at St Albans tonight. I was reassured that (a) the 5% compensation had been decided on by other management and if we don't think its enough to compensate for what we've had to endure then there isn't a damn thing we can do about it and (b) the entire fleet of trains is due to be replaced in 2013, but in the meantime we have to make do with the 23 new trains and 98 old trains we've already got, but not to worry as there is an ongoing refurbishment programme that will improve their interiors and reliability. Walked home. Had to duck to avoid the pig flying around the station forecourt.
No travel problems today.
Met the managers at St Albans tonight. I was reassured that (a) the 5% compensation had been decided on by other management and if we don't think its enough to compensate for what we've had to endure then there isn't a damn thing we can do about it and (b) the entire fleet of trains is due to be replaced in 2013, but in the meantime we have to make do with the 23 new trains and 98 old trains we've already got, but not to worry as there is an ongoing refurbishment programme that will improve their interiors and reliability. Walked home. Had to duck to avoid the pig flying around the station forecourt.
Thursday 4th February, 2010
Sat down this morning and was joined by a young lady who occupied her entire journey with what I believe is commonly referred to as 'putting on the slap’. Actually this is quite a common sight as quite a number of commuters (mostly female) use their travel time to this effect.
For the most part I find this a harmless activity, and I've no fundamental objection to it. Indeed one of my greatest pleasures is a sharp application of the brakes while the current Mrs Wild is putting on her lippy in the passenger seat. How she laughs! However there was one aspect in this particular instance that did cause me a degree of discomfort.
The process varies in complexity and duration (presumably depending on the degree of transformation thought to be required) but almost always consists of the same fundamental elements. First the tool kit is produced. Usually a small-ish bag, resembling a pencil case, and mirror. Then follows an initial survey, followed by application of a matt undercoat. The water colour tin is then produced and differing top coats are applied to certain, presumably key, features (either by hand or using some form of paintbrush). Felt tips and crayons are then used to apply delicate final touches around the eyes and mouth.
I do wonder how ladies are able to create such works of art whilst in a moving vehicle, and in full public view. What happens if there is a sudden lurch, or they make a mistake? I remember chucking tins of airfix paint across the room after an accidental slip of the hand rendered the Hawker Hurricane cockpit windscreen opaque, but I've never seen that happen on the train. I’ve also never seen it all have to be rubbed out and started again. Perhaps the trick is to just carry on and pretend it was meant it to look like that all the time.
Anyway, usually that’s the process finished, but not this time. The piece de resistance was to follow. The toolkit was put away, and a small bottle produced from the handbag. Then, without so much as a ‘Do you mind if I ...’, or ‘Brace yourself, this might smart a bit ...’ a blast of perfume was applied to each wrist along with, it seemed, much of the surrounding area. For all I know this could have an expensive vintage from one of the Great French Perfume Houses, but at that proximity to the blast zone, and in a confined area, it was no less than a hostile assault on the nostrils, testing the gag reflex to the limit. Not the sort of reaction I suspect the lady in question was looking for.
Still, I suppose it masked the usual underlying smell of a decaying FCC carriage, at least for a day.
For the most part I find this a harmless activity, and I've no fundamental objection to it. Indeed one of my greatest pleasures is a sharp application of the brakes while the current Mrs Wild is putting on her lippy in the passenger seat. How she laughs! However there was one aspect in this particular instance that did cause me a degree of discomfort.
The process varies in complexity and duration (presumably depending on the degree of transformation thought to be required) but almost always consists of the same fundamental elements. First the tool kit is produced. Usually a small-ish bag, resembling a pencil case, and mirror. Then follows an initial survey, followed by application of a matt undercoat. The water colour tin is then produced and differing top coats are applied to certain, presumably key, features (either by hand or using some form of paintbrush). Felt tips and crayons are then used to apply delicate final touches around the eyes and mouth.
I do wonder how ladies are able to create such works of art whilst in a moving vehicle, and in full public view. What happens if there is a sudden lurch, or they make a mistake? I remember chucking tins of airfix paint across the room after an accidental slip of the hand rendered the Hawker Hurricane cockpit windscreen opaque, but I've never seen that happen on the train. I’ve also never seen it all have to be rubbed out and started again. Perhaps the trick is to just carry on and pretend it was meant it to look like that all the time.
Anyway, usually that’s the process finished, but not this time. The piece de resistance was to follow. The toolkit was put away, and a small bottle produced from the handbag. Then, without so much as a ‘Do you mind if I ...’, or ‘Brace yourself, this might smart a bit ...’ a blast of perfume was applied to each wrist along with, it seemed, much of the surrounding area. For all I know this could have an expensive vintage from one of the Great French Perfume Houses, but at that proximity to the blast zone, and in a confined area, it was no less than a hostile assault on the nostrils, testing the gag reflex to the limit. Not the sort of reaction I suspect the lady in question was looking for.
Still, I suppose it masked the usual underlying smell of a decaying FCC carriage, at least for a day.
Wednesday 3 February 2010
Wednesday 3rd February, 2010
Had an early visit to a physiotherapist this morning to sort out some back discomfort. Diagnosed with First Capital Connect shoulder. Compression of the vertebrae resulting from spending prolonged periods in unnatural positions, causing muscle spasms and frayed nerves.
After stretching me back into something approximating a normal posture he advised bi-weekly return visits, and to avoid First Capital Connect completely. I told him this was not practical as I had to get into work so he wrote me a doctor’s note to hand to the on duty station manager entitling me to demand that the next passing East Midlands express service be flagged down and that I (and only I) be admitted and escorted to an empty seat.
Arrive at the station, brandishing my precious letter. Just then an East Midlands express rushes through and the slipstream snatches it from my grasp. It flutters away, down the tracks.
Boarded the 8.16 semi-fast and slumped, disconsolately, into a seat. Long delay at Elstree. No explanation. Long delay at Mill Hill. No explanation. Long delay at West Hampstead. ‘Drives’ eventually tells us that the rear unit is the problem, the fitter is looking at it, but the fix following the winter freeze has not held and the elastic band holding the paper clip onto the overhead wire has snapped.
Drives goes on to tell us that they might be able to fix it. We all get off and head for the Northern Line.
After stretching me back into something approximating a normal posture he advised bi-weekly return visits, and to avoid First Capital Connect completely. I told him this was not practical as I had to get into work so he wrote me a doctor’s note to hand to the on duty station manager entitling me to demand that the next passing East Midlands express service be flagged down and that I (and only I) be admitted and escorted to an empty seat.
Arrive at the station, brandishing my precious letter. Just then an East Midlands express rushes through and the slipstream snatches it from my grasp. It flutters away, down the tracks.
Boarded the 8.16 semi-fast and slumped, disconsolately, into a seat. Long delay at Elstree. No explanation. Long delay at Mill Hill. No explanation. Long delay at West Hampstead. ‘Drives’ eventually tells us that the rear unit is the problem, the fitter is looking at it, but the fix following the winter freeze has not held and the elastic band holding the paper clip onto the overhead wire has snapped.
Drives goes on to tell us that they might be able to fix it. We all get off and head for the Northern Line.
Tuesday 2nd February, 2010
An uneventful day. Joined by a travelling Policemen this morning between St Albans and Elstree. Hope he wasn't on his way to an emergency.
Monday 1st February, 2010
Made the 8.16 semi fast this morning, together with a good mate who took pity and stopped to give me a lift to the station.
Uneventful journey until we reached St Pancras. No. Not that St Pancras. We’d pulled out of there with no issues but then ground to a halt in the old Thameslink station. Why have we stopped here? Driver error, we thought. Old habits die hard.
Turns out that a train had broken down ahead of us, and the driver, knowing we might be waiting a while, told us he thought we might prefer to be stopped in the old station rather than in a tunnel. Why? Frankly the darkness would have been preferable. It always was a godawful, festering pit, and it hasn’t been made any better by the layers of pigeon s**t that have accumulated, despite the strategically placed spikes. Perhaps it was a tactical move from FCC to remind us just how lucky we are to have the nice new station. What next? Is he going to open the doors and invite us to take a stroll along the platform for old times sake?
Fortunately not. As we sat there, waiting, it suddenly dawned on us. It has long been a mystery how the graffiti artists get down there to work their magic, but could our driver be the secret artist. He sees his chance, spotting a gap in the schedule, pulls up in the station and dives out with his spray cans? We were soon on our way again.
Why not give them a free reign down there? Much better to have some colourful, inventive decoration to look at than layers of detritus and grime.
Uneventful journey until we reached St Pancras. No. Not that St Pancras. We’d pulled out of there with no issues but then ground to a halt in the old Thameslink station. Why have we stopped here? Driver error, we thought. Old habits die hard.
Turns out that a train had broken down ahead of us, and the driver, knowing we might be waiting a while, told us he thought we might prefer to be stopped in the old station rather than in a tunnel. Why? Frankly the darkness would have been preferable. It always was a godawful, festering pit, and it hasn’t been made any better by the layers of pigeon s**t that have accumulated, despite the strategically placed spikes. Perhaps it was a tactical move from FCC to remind us just how lucky we are to have the nice new station. What next? Is he going to open the doors and invite us to take a stroll along the platform for old times sake?
Fortunately not. As we sat there, waiting, it suddenly dawned on us. It has long been a mystery how the graffiti artists get down there to work their magic, but could our driver be the secret artist. He sees his chance, spotting a gap in the schedule, pulls up in the station and dives out with his spray cans? We were soon on our way again.
Why not give them a free reign down there? Much better to have some colourful, inventive decoration to look at than layers of detritus and grime.
Thursday 28 January 2010
Friday 29th January, 2010
Problems getting out of bed today after beer & curry with 4 fine friends won the day last evening. The chance to re-live the days when real men had girls' haircuts, footballers' shorts really were short & the railways were still the government's train set was too much to resist. The only thing we had to worry about then was whether they'd get us to the game on time.
After a hearty breakfast of water and nurofen I was ready for anything, but the travelling was easy in both directions.
During the day I caught up with the goings on at the St P Meet the Managers session. Glad to see a healthy turnout making their views known to the FCC managers in our polite Home Counties way. Especially glad to see the magnificent Crapmaster given the coverage he so richly deserves.
After a hearty breakfast of water and nurofen I was ready for anything, but the travelling was easy in both directions.
During the day I caught up with the goings on at the St P Meet the Managers session. Glad to see a healthy turnout making their views known to the FCC managers in our polite Home Counties way. Especially glad to see the magnificent Crapmaster given the coverage he so richly deserves.
Thursday 28th January, 2010
On time this morning, back on the good old 8.16. I'm reminded of the interior design shortcomings as I head for an empty window & middle seat. Schoolboy error. I’m forced into the window seat as a fellow traveller wedges himself into the middle. The heater is on full blast, and the nice, but unyielding, lady opposite has her leg room thank you very much and isn’t about to give me any of it. Her feet may as well have been set in concrete. I kick her (gently) as I try to twist myself into a position that won’t cause a crippling injury, but this lady’s not for budging.
Ideally I would be able to compact myself like one of those nice folding bicycles we sometimes encounter (the Raleigh Tw*t) with a few of the same sharp, unforgiving edges, but unfortunately I can’t. The remainder of the journey is a test of strength for my straining cruciate ligaments, and of absorbency for my shirt. I stagger exhausted onto the Farringdon platform, grateful for the blast of cold air, and head for the comfort of the Met line.
I have a dilemma this evening. I'm meeting some old mates for beer & curry, but its also the FCC Meet the Managers forum at St P. Do I go to St P, and then retrace my steps to our meeting point, thereby eating into beer time? Or do I take the view that Meeting the Managers (again) is likely to increase, rather than alleviate, my frustrations? Think I know which way this is heading.
Ideally I would be able to compact myself like one of those nice folding bicycles we sometimes encounter (the Raleigh Tw*t) with a few of the same sharp, unforgiving edges, but unfortunately I can’t. The remainder of the journey is a test of strength for my straining cruciate ligaments, and of absorbency for my shirt. I stagger exhausted onto the Farringdon platform, grateful for the blast of cold air, and head for the comfort of the Met line.
I have a dilemma this evening. I'm meeting some old mates for beer & curry, but its also the FCC Meet the Managers forum at St P. Do I go to St P, and then retrace my steps to our meeting point, thereby eating into beer time? Or do I take the view that Meeting the Managers (again) is likely to increase, rather than alleviate, my frustrations? Think I know which way this is heading.
Wednesday 27th January, 2010
I now know there are at least 2 and a half of those nice new trains. I know this because of this morning’s experience. I was late, having had to do a school run, and just missed a London bound train. There were no more trains for the next 15 minutes (in line with the timetable), after which we were promised a slow train at 8.58 (platform 1), and a fast train at 9.03 (platform 3).
In my brave new spirit of trust and adventure the 9.03 was the only option, so I skipped over to platform 3 to wait.
Just as an aside, on the platform were 2 FCC operatives warming their hands on a walkie talkie and looking worried. The reason for their concern became clear as one roared into the walkie talkie:
‘Ere, Tarquin. About this terminator that’s coming into platform 2. Your announcement said it’s long, but Henrietta here reckons it’s definitely a short one. Please confirm, urgent, over’ (I’ve changed the names, not to protect the innocent, but because I’ve forgotten them).
On the basis that I can see no reason why anyone should give a flying toss whether a train ending its journey is short or long (except, maybe, the people getting off) I am, at this point, slightly anxious that we’re about to have a visit from a futuristic killing machine. However I am quickly reassured.
‘Roger that, Godfrey. I can confirm that it is a long train, 8 carriages, over and out.’
Well thank goodness we sorted that out.
After the morning’s entertainment I waited, and as I did I saw 2 of the shiny new trains travel through, northbound. I then watched that 8.58 depart from platform 1, more or less on schedule.
The 9.03 was slightly delayed, and a healthy crowd had gathered by the time it arrived. Could be a problem getting a seat, better sharpen my elbows. Our spirits were lifted as another nice shiny new train poked its head around the bend, but were quickly dashed when its tail emerged rather more quickly than we anticipated. IT'S HALF A ******* NEW TRAIN, ALREADY FULL TO ******* BURSTING!! No chance of getting on, a mumbled apology about a lack of rolling stock, and a trudge back to platform 1 for the next slow train.
Our friends at FCC may be attempting to run a normal timetable, but they are not attempting to do it with normal length trains. That's called cheating (or clever management around the boardroom table). Seems that they are now short of rolling stock as well as drivers. Trouble is, you can't ask the rolling stock to do overtime.
Why is there never a killing machine around when you need one?
In my brave new spirit of trust and adventure the 9.03 was the only option, so I skipped over to platform 3 to wait.
Just as an aside, on the platform were 2 FCC operatives warming their hands on a walkie talkie and looking worried. The reason for their concern became clear as one roared into the walkie talkie:
‘Ere, Tarquin. About this terminator that’s coming into platform 2. Your announcement said it’s long, but Henrietta here reckons it’s definitely a short one. Please confirm, urgent, over’ (I’ve changed the names, not to protect the innocent, but because I’ve forgotten them).
On the basis that I can see no reason why anyone should give a flying toss whether a train ending its journey is short or long (except, maybe, the people getting off) I am, at this point, slightly anxious that we’re about to have a visit from a futuristic killing machine. However I am quickly reassured.
‘Roger that, Godfrey. I can confirm that it is a long train, 8 carriages, over and out.’
Well thank goodness we sorted that out.
After the morning’s entertainment I waited, and as I did I saw 2 of the shiny new trains travel through, northbound. I then watched that 8.58 depart from platform 1, more or less on schedule.
The 9.03 was slightly delayed, and a healthy crowd had gathered by the time it arrived. Could be a problem getting a seat, better sharpen my elbows. Our spirits were lifted as another nice shiny new train poked its head around the bend, but were quickly dashed when its tail emerged rather more quickly than we anticipated. IT'S HALF A ******* NEW TRAIN, ALREADY FULL TO ******* BURSTING!! No chance of getting on, a mumbled apology about a lack of rolling stock, and a trudge back to platform 1 for the next slow train.
Our friends at FCC may be attempting to run a normal timetable, but they are not attempting to do it with normal length trains. That's called cheating (or clever management around the boardroom table). Seems that they are now short of rolling stock as well as drivers. Trouble is, you can't ask the rolling stock to do overtime.
Why is there never a killing machine around when you need one?
Tuesday 26th January, 2010
No problems today. Caught a nice early train this morning, and the nice new train this evening. Seats on both. Hard to say from just one journey, but I have a slight concern that the seats on the new train might have been designed to encourage standing. Further trials are required.
Monday 25 January 2010
Monday 25th January, 2010
Enjoyed a pleasant, seated journey to work this morning. Minor delays on our way into St Pancras, but nothing too bad. On the whole a good start to the week. It's 'Meet the Managers' at St P on Thursday, so FCC are on their very best behaviour.
On to this evening. I'm waiting at Farringdon for the 17.57. There's a whispering noise, something glides into the platform and stops in front of us. What is it? It can't be a train. It's all lovely, smooth and shiny, purple and pink. It's quiet, like it rides on a carpet of air. It's bright and clean inside. It's like I've been transported into an episode of the Jetsons. The people inside are all smiling and happy (now stop it, you've gone too far).
I pinch myself. No I'm not asleep. The doors slide gently open (remember cassette players? It's like comparing the eject mechanisms on the cheap, crappy machines to the lovely, damped, mechanisms on the posh expensive ones). I step inside onto the thick shagpile. A steward takes my coat and shows me to my seat. Actually, it's still got a plastic floor, and there's no seats, but it is clean, climate controlled, and it doesn't smell bad.
FCC have really messed up big time today. How could this have happened? I've seen these new trains (or should that be this new train) before. I've even travelled on one once, into London, in the middle of the day (and the doors didn't open at St Pancras - a deign fault apparently). But in rush hour I've only ever seen them travelling in the other direction. I have sometimes wondered whether all of FCC's 'scheduling problems' have been caused by a desire not to allow their nice new train(s) to be soiled by too many grubby commuters. But not this week, not 'Meet the Managers' week. Coincidence?
On to this evening. I'm waiting at Farringdon for the 17.57. There's a whispering noise, something glides into the platform and stops in front of us. What is it? It can't be a train. It's all lovely, smooth and shiny, purple and pink. It's quiet, like it rides on a carpet of air. It's bright and clean inside. It's like I've been transported into an episode of the Jetsons. The people inside are all smiling and happy (now stop it, you've gone too far).
I pinch myself. No I'm not asleep. The doors slide gently open (remember cassette players? It's like comparing the eject mechanisms on the cheap, crappy machines to the lovely, damped, mechanisms on the posh expensive ones). I step inside onto the thick shagpile. A steward takes my coat and shows me to my seat. Actually, it's still got a plastic floor, and there's no seats, but it is clean, climate controlled, and it doesn't smell bad.
FCC have really messed up big time today. How could this have happened? I've seen these new trains (or should that be this new train) before. I've even travelled on one once, into London, in the middle of the day (and the doors didn't open at St Pancras - a deign fault apparently). But in rush hour I've only ever seen them travelling in the other direction. I have sometimes wondered whether all of FCC's 'scheduling problems' have been caused by a desire not to allow their nice new train(s) to be soiled by too many grubby commuters. But not this week, not 'Meet the Managers' week. Coincidence?
Friday 22 January 2010
Friday 22nd January, 2010
Good news and bad news this morning.
Good news: the first train on the departure board is the 08.10 to Bedford, which is expected on time.
Bad news: (i) I’m not going to Bedford, (ii) it is now 8.16, and (iii) every other train on the board is delayed.
Normal service has most definitely been resumed. It’s anyone’s guess what train is coming next. A closer inspection of the board shows not only that all of the southbound trains delayed, but also that many of them are expected to arrive at the same time. Should be interesting.
FCC make no attempt to provide an excuse for this morning’s chaos, although there is a hint of severe drizzle in the air so perhaps they think it should be self evident.
At least there are trains running. I jump on the first one through and treat myself to a seat in the first class section.
Still, you couldn’t wish for a better day for FCC to comprehensively screw up following Lord A’s threat that they had until the end of this week to shape up or face the full force of his wrath. Wonder what that will amount to.
Good news: the first train on the departure board is the 08.10 to Bedford, which is expected on time.
Bad news: (i) I’m not going to Bedford, (ii) it is now 8.16, and (iii) every other train on the board is delayed.
Normal service has most definitely been resumed. It’s anyone’s guess what train is coming next. A closer inspection of the board shows not only that all of the southbound trains delayed, but also that many of them are expected to arrive at the same time. Should be interesting.
FCC make no attempt to provide an excuse for this morning’s chaos, although there is a hint of severe drizzle in the air so perhaps they think it should be self evident.
At least there are trains running. I jump on the first one through and treat myself to a seat in the first class section.
Still, you couldn’t wish for a better day for FCC to comprehensively screw up following Lord A’s threat that they had until the end of this week to shape up or face the full force of his wrath. Wonder what that will amount to.
Thursday 21 January 2010
Thursday 21st January, 2010
It is bin collection day on the last part of my route to the station, and the wheelie bins (surrounded by small mountain ranges of extra sacks due to recent missed collections) stand proudly on the pavement outside their owners’ houses. All except for one house. Why? Terrible schoolboy error? Eco over-friendly? Given up and visited the local tip? Assumed the service has been withdrawn?
Turns out to be none of the above. On closer inspection it transpires that there is, in fact, a bin on the pavement, in front of the hedge, but said bin has been cleverly camouflaged by a sort of plastic sheath decorated to resemble the hedge, a sort of wheelie bin condom if you like. Magnificent! Are they commercially available? I must investigate. I suppose the only trouble with disguising it as a hedge is that the bin collectors might miss it. I wonder if they do a Tardis version?
I arrive at the station to see a train standing at platform 1. There is a suspicious sort of general milling around and vague indecision that suggests to my, by now finely honed, instincts that this sucker ain’t going anywhere soon. However I am told by the nice man at the barrier that it is in fact the delayed 0806 to Sevenoaks, fast to St Pancras, and that it will leave as soon as the driver gets into his cab. Foolishly I take this to mean that said driver is poised like a coiled spring, just waiting to leap in and press the go button. I hear a whistle and jump on board the train, ignoring the obvious danger signs (lots of empty seats, large crowd on platform 3,...).
Turns out the whistle was for the Northbound train on platform 2, and I watch it pull out. Shortly afterwards, from the comfort of my seat, I also watch the 8.16 fast into London arrive at, and set off from platform 3. Oh dear.
Then comes the announcement: Blah, blah, FCC regret to inform that the 08.06 to Sevenoaks will be delayed by approximately..... and that’s it. We have to guess. Delayed by what? Approximately 15 minutes? Approximately 2 hours? Approximately three cows? Approximately total and utter incompetence? We are left to guess.
Then comes a further announcement. It seems the original driver had been taken ill but not to worry, we’ll be on our way just as soon as the relief driver gets here. He is currently on his way from ... (what’s it to be? Radlett? Birmingham? Sydney?) ... platform 3. Phew.
The announcement continues – ‘this train will be fast to St Pancras, then all stations to Sevenoaks ….. I believe.’ What? You believe? Are you announcing some sort of epiphany, or do you really not know where this train is going (and stopping)?
The driver arrives. Turns out he also believes. We proceed – fast to St Pancras, then to Farringdon. That’ll do me nicely and, at least until the next journey, I also believe.
Turns out to be none of the above. On closer inspection it transpires that there is, in fact, a bin on the pavement, in front of the hedge, but said bin has been cleverly camouflaged by a sort of plastic sheath decorated to resemble the hedge, a sort of wheelie bin condom if you like. Magnificent! Are they commercially available? I must investigate. I suppose the only trouble with disguising it as a hedge is that the bin collectors might miss it. I wonder if they do a Tardis version?
I arrive at the station to see a train standing at platform 1. There is a suspicious sort of general milling around and vague indecision that suggests to my, by now finely honed, instincts that this sucker ain’t going anywhere soon. However I am told by the nice man at the barrier that it is in fact the delayed 0806 to Sevenoaks, fast to St Pancras, and that it will leave as soon as the driver gets into his cab. Foolishly I take this to mean that said driver is poised like a coiled spring, just waiting to leap in and press the go button. I hear a whistle and jump on board the train, ignoring the obvious danger signs (lots of empty seats, large crowd on platform 3,...).
Turns out the whistle was for the Northbound train on platform 2, and I watch it pull out. Shortly afterwards, from the comfort of my seat, I also watch the 8.16 fast into London arrive at, and set off from platform 3. Oh dear.
Then comes the announcement: Blah, blah, FCC regret to inform that the 08.06 to Sevenoaks will be delayed by approximately..... and that’s it. We have to guess. Delayed by what? Approximately 15 minutes? Approximately 2 hours? Approximately three cows? Approximately total and utter incompetence? We are left to guess.
Then comes a further announcement. It seems the original driver had been taken ill but not to worry, we’ll be on our way just as soon as the relief driver gets here. He is currently on his way from ... (what’s it to be? Radlett? Birmingham? Sydney?) ... platform 3. Phew.
The announcement continues – ‘this train will be fast to St Pancras, then all stations to Sevenoaks ….. I believe.’ What? You believe? Are you announcing some sort of epiphany, or do you really not know where this train is going (and stopping)?
The driver arrives. Turns out he also believes. We proceed – fast to St Pancras, then to Farringdon. That’ll do me nicely and, at least until the next journey, I also believe.
Wednesday 20th January, 2010
0816 St Albans to Farringdon. On time, with seat, drama free.
1727 Farringdon to St Albans. 4 minutes late, but this is to my advantage as otherwise I'd have missed it. Also with seat and drama free.
Can’t complain today but I do hope this slight upturn in FCC's performance is not going to result in a general air of acceptance after their recent stinking, rank badness.
Came across this headline from the Watford Observer website. I suppose it is always good to receive positive news about your football team, especially at a time when there is not much of it about. I think that this, however, has a slightly desperate quality:
1727 Farringdon to St Albans. 4 minutes late, but this is to my advantage as otherwise I'd have missed it. Also with seat and drama free.
Can’t complain today but I do hope this slight upturn in FCC's performance is not going to result in a general air of acceptance after their recent stinking, rank badness.
Came across this headline from the Watford Observer website. I suppose it is always good to receive positive news about your football team, especially at a time when there is not much of it about. I think that this, however, has a slightly desperate quality:
Tuesday 19 January 2010
Tuesday 19th January, 2010
Today I aim for the 08.00 fast service, and repeat yesterday's preparations, albeit a little earlier. I decide this must be the time that most people are getting ready for work (in our street at least) as the water pressure in the shower is considerably reduced (does it really work like that?).
I arrive at the station on time, but this time I find that an earlier cancellation has led to a busy platform, and little prospect of me getting on my chosen train. I am therefore presented with the option of the 08.06 stopping service, or the following 08.11 fast, both of which are allegedly on time. My newfound resolve sees me adopt the ultimate high risk approach, and I forego a guaranteed seat on the 08.06 in favour of the promised faster journey time of the 08.11. It works, up to a point. The 08.11 is perfectly on time, but again it is standing room only.
If the power walking is to continue, the strategy may have to be more seat focussed.
I arrive at the station on time, but this time I find that an earlier cancellation has led to a busy platform, and little prospect of me getting on my chosen train. I am therefore presented with the option of the 08.06 stopping service, or the following 08.11 fast, both of which are allegedly on time. My newfound resolve sees me adopt the ultimate high risk approach, and I forego a guaranteed seat on the 08.06 in favour of the promised faster journey time of the 08.11. It works, up to a point. The 08.11 is perfectly on time, but again it is standing room only.
If the power walking is to continue, the strategy may have to be more seat focussed.
Monday 18th January, 2010
Time to come clean. I have to admit that during the recent weather disruptions I have not been quite as sharply focussed on my departure time as had previously been the case. Knowing that what is to follow is likely to resemble a form of torture has had several effects on my preparations: reluctance to take that first step out of bed, lingering in the shower, waiting for the travel reports on the radio, checking the website to see how bad it is going to be, waiting for the sports reports on the radio, and so on. Intentions were good, but the execution poor.
Today, however, is the day for strong will and resolution. If FCC are aiming for a normal service, then so will I. I decide to adopt a high risk strategy, and aim for a specific departure. The first target is the 8.16 fast. Ok, I know, not particularly ambitious, but it’s a start (and, by the way, my ambitions are not high).
I struggle out of bed and prepare myself for action. The key thing to consider is clothing. I decide that conditions will now allow for the arctic wear to be dispensed with, and I dress for speed. I strap on my athletic support, and allow myself only one additional layer (additional, that is, to my shirt and suit). The polar bear skin stays in the cupboard, and my usual winter coat is back in service.
I’m all set for a power walk to the station and I stride purposefully out of the door. Now, when I say power walk you must bear in mind that all things are relative. This is not a bus beating / cyclist startling power walk in the same sense as, say, those regularly undertaken by the current Mrs Wild and her friend Nursey. This is a power walk in the sense that I aim not to be overtaken by the seniors on their morning ramble. Nevertheless, I intend to match my record time of 18 minutes.
As I speed along I narrowly miss stepping into a large pool of fresh vomit, then another, and then at least two more of varying vintages. Actually, when I think about it, I narrowly miss potentially unpleasant encounters with the product of a variety of bodily functions (human or otherwise). I suspect that, had I been inclined to spend a little time poking around in the undergrowth, I might have been able to complete the set. Is there an I-Spy book for items that are the by-product of activities that should really be conducted within the confines of your own home (and even then only in certain rooms)? If so then I suspect St Albans would be a good hunting ground for enthusiasts of that particular genre. It’s revolting.
I arrive at the station, sweating lightly, but exactly on schedule. I bump into a very good friend of mine, and we were delighted to see that the 8.16 was due in on time. And on time it was. Unfortunately, as we got on I was reminded of what had caused me to put pen to paper in the first instance. Overcrowded, no seats, and too hot. Nevertheless we speed into London, and I arrive at Farringdon on time. Progress? Or is it just back to square one?
Arriving at Farringdon for the journey home I have a further reminder of times past as I discover that part of FCC’s effort to run a full timetable involves reverting back to 4 carriage trains. Yes, it helps them to meet their timetable, but it doesn’t help that many people to actually travel on the things. Still, I guess it all makes sense if you are measured only in terms of trains on time, and not in terms of passengers left on platform.
I am persuaded by my friend and colleague to adopt what I had previously considered to be his bizarre practice of going in the wrong direction. We traveled South for one stop to City Thameslink, the benefit of which is a significantly greater chance of a seat on the next Northbound service. Although it felt slightly like cheating, on this occasion it worked, and we were already comfortably seated as we arrived at Farringdon on what was the next train through in any event. We journey home in style. I suspect we will get our comeuppance in due course.
Today, however, is the day for strong will and resolution. If FCC are aiming for a normal service, then so will I. I decide to adopt a high risk strategy, and aim for a specific departure. The first target is the 8.16 fast. Ok, I know, not particularly ambitious, but it’s a start (and, by the way, my ambitions are not high).
I struggle out of bed and prepare myself for action. The key thing to consider is clothing. I decide that conditions will now allow for the arctic wear to be dispensed with, and I dress for speed. I strap on my athletic support, and allow myself only one additional layer (additional, that is, to my shirt and suit). The polar bear skin stays in the cupboard, and my usual winter coat is back in service.
I’m all set for a power walk to the station and I stride purposefully out of the door. Now, when I say power walk you must bear in mind that all things are relative. This is not a bus beating / cyclist startling power walk in the same sense as, say, those regularly undertaken by the current Mrs Wild and her friend Nursey. This is a power walk in the sense that I aim not to be overtaken by the seniors on their morning ramble. Nevertheless, I intend to match my record time of 18 minutes.
As I speed along I narrowly miss stepping into a large pool of fresh vomit, then another, and then at least two more of varying vintages. Actually, when I think about it, I narrowly miss potentially unpleasant encounters with the product of a variety of bodily functions (human or otherwise). I suspect that, had I been inclined to spend a little time poking around in the undergrowth, I might have been able to complete the set. Is there an I-Spy book for items that are the by-product of activities that should really be conducted within the confines of your own home (and even then only in certain rooms)? If so then I suspect St Albans would be a good hunting ground for enthusiasts of that particular genre. It’s revolting.
I arrive at the station, sweating lightly, but exactly on schedule. I bump into a very good friend of mine, and we were delighted to see that the 8.16 was due in on time. And on time it was. Unfortunately, as we got on I was reminded of what had caused me to put pen to paper in the first instance. Overcrowded, no seats, and too hot. Nevertheless we speed into London, and I arrive at Farringdon on time. Progress? Or is it just back to square one?
Arriving at Farringdon for the journey home I have a further reminder of times past as I discover that part of FCC’s effort to run a full timetable involves reverting back to 4 carriage trains. Yes, it helps them to meet their timetable, but it doesn’t help that many people to actually travel on the things. Still, I guess it all makes sense if you are measured only in terms of trains on time, and not in terms of passengers left on platform.
I am persuaded by my friend and colleague to adopt what I had previously considered to be his bizarre practice of going in the wrong direction. We traveled South for one stop to City Thameslink, the benefit of which is a significantly greater chance of a seat on the next Northbound service. Although it felt slightly like cheating, on this occasion it worked, and we were already comfortably seated as we arrived at Farringdon on what was the next train through in any event. We journey home in style. I suspect we will get our comeuppance in due course.
Friday 15 January 2010
Friday 15th January, 2010
For your enjoyment today we have 'A Tale of Two Franchises'. A splendid guest contribution from my good friend, Mr N.E. Worsan-Wild, concerning his journey to a far flung destination earlier this week:
A Tale of Two Franchises
For sale: Train ticket, cheap !
I have an important 10:00 am meeting in Leicester tomorrow and consider taking the train from St.Albans instead of the car - this eco thing is clearly having an impact on my subconscious mind. So, with best intentions for the environment I enquire about the cost of a train ticket from the nice lady at the St.Albans ticket office. I'm guessing it will be £25 or so. Not cheap but eco-friendly never is and for the sake of the planet I'll make the financial and personal sacrifice.
The lady requests I cross her palm with £91.50 for a return ticket. What ! Clearly the bullet proof glass that prevents us from sharing each other's variant of the latest flu virus is affecting the sound as I'm sure she thinks I've asked for some destination in a far off land. I ask her again for a return ticket to Leicester, England - I get the same response. What ! (again) The last time I flew to Edinburgh and back I paid far less than this and I was guaranteed a seat on that trip. The comfort of the car and the cost of 15 litres of diesel is looking far more appealing.
I may however have to go to Leicester again in a couple of days so foolishly ask about the cost of a weekly ticket. I grip the service counter in order to brace myself for the shock...and the cost is....£118.80. Surely some mistake, £23.70 per day for 5 days is almost reasonable. The lady is however adamant it is correct so I quickly snap up the weekly ticket and scuttle off believing that she will eventually realise it is an error and ask me to fork out another few hundred pounds. So, I've got a ticket and I've also got a handy timetable from East Midland Trains (EMT) that shows the trains I can use in order to get from St.Albans to Leicester - it does mean having to use a First Crapital Con (FCC) train to get to either London or Luton but fingers crossed all will be ok.
I aim for the 07:26 FCC train to Luton Airport connecting to the 07:51 to Leicester. I'll have to wait at Luton Airport Parkway for 10 minutes or so but no problem. In typical FCC fashion the 07:26 is delayed by 25 minutes meaning I can't make the 07:51 from Luton Airport to Leicester and the next north bound EMT train from Luton Airport is an hour away. Referring to my handy East Midlands personal timetable I see the next available option is to catch the 07:44 FCC into St.Pancras and get the 08:15 EMT to Leicester. The 07:44 is on time, I get a seat and get to St Pancras on time. At this point I am quite optimistic that this could all work out ok but I have clearly under-estimated the abilities of EMT's management to be as incompetent as those that work for FCC.
When I try to get on the EMT train at St Pancras I am told my ticket is invalid. I will have to buy a ticket to travel back to St Albans before they will let me on. Because of FCC's ever increasing incompetence I've had to take a journey into London that I didn't want to make and to rub salt into the wound EMT want to charge me for the displeasure. In hindsight however I count myself lucky as I now suspect that the FCC Gestapo ('Revenue Protection Team') would also have liked to charge me for the privilege of being diverted to St Pancras in the first place. So maybe I've actually got a bargain!
I am now very irate, miss my intended train, angry at everyone and ten quid out of pocket. After apologising to half the EMT staff at St Pancras who have put up with (and laughed at) my antics I eventually get on to the 08:25 and make it to Leicester just before 10:00am. My next trip to Leicester will be by car. Anybody want to buy a partially used weekly ticket ? Cheap !
In time honoured, Oscars fashion I would like to say a few well-deserved thank yous:
FCC Management for not knowing how to run a train set let alone part of a public transport system.
EMT Management for forcing their staff into ridiculous, indefensible and confrontational positions with the travelling public.
The Conservative government for selling off British Rail to a bunch of property speculators who knew even less about running a train set than FCC do.
The Labour government for perpetuating this de-nationalised, in-effective and costly nonsense.
The Liberal Democrats for keeping quiet about it.
A Tale of Two Franchises
For sale: Train ticket, cheap !
I have an important 10:00 am meeting in Leicester tomorrow and consider taking the train from St.Albans instead of the car - this eco thing is clearly having an impact on my subconscious mind. So, with best intentions for the environment I enquire about the cost of a train ticket from the nice lady at the St.Albans ticket office. I'm guessing it will be £25 or so. Not cheap but eco-friendly never is and for the sake of the planet I'll make the financial and personal sacrifice.
The lady requests I cross her palm with £91.50 for a return ticket. What ! Clearly the bullet proof glass that prevents us from sharing each other's variant of the latest flu virus is affecting the sound as I'm sure she thinks I've asked for some destination in a far off land. I ask her again for a return ticket to Leicester, England - I get the same response. What ! (again) The last time I flew to Edinburgh and back I paid far less than this and I was guaranteed a seat on that trip. The comfort of the car and the cost of 15 litres of diesel is looking far more appealing.
I may however have to go to Leicester again in a couple of days so foolishly ask about the cost of a weekly ticket. I grip the service counter in order to brace myself for the shock...and the cost is....£118.80. Surely some mistake, £23.70 per day for 5 days is almost reasonable. The lady is however adamant it is correct so I quickly snap up the weekly ticket and scuttle off believing that she will eventually realise it is an error and ask me to fork out another few hundred pounds. So, I've got a ticket and I've also got a handy timetable from East Midland Trains (EMT) that shows the trains I can use in order to get from St.Albans to Leicester - it does mean having to use a First Crapital Con (FCC) train to get to either London or Luton but fingers crossed all will be ok.
I aim for the 07:26 FCC train to Luton Airport connecting to the 07:51 to Leicester. I'll have to wait at Luton Airport Parkway for 10 minutes or so but no problem. In typical FCC fashion the 07:26 is delayed by 25 minutes meaning I can't make the 07:51 from Luton Airport to Leicester and the next north bound EMT train from Luton Airport is an hour away. Referring to my handy East Midlands personal timetable I see the next available option is to catch the 07:44 FCC into St.Pancras and get the 08:15 EMT to Leicester. The 07:44 is on time, I get a seat and get to St Pancras on time. At this point I am quite optimistic that this could all work out ok but I have clearly under-estimated the abilities of EMT's management to be as incompetent as those that work for FCC.
When I try to get on the EMT train at St Pancras I am told my ticket is invalid. I will have to buy a ticket to travel back to St Albans before they will let me on. Because of FCC's ever increasing incompetence I've had to take a journey into London that I didn't want to make and to rub salt into the wound EMT want to charge me for the displeasure. In hindsight however I count myself lucky as I now suspect that the FCC Gestapo ('Revenue Protection Team') would also have liked to charge me for the privilege of being diverted to St Pancras in the first place. So maybe I've actually got a bargain!
I am now very irate, miss my intended train, angry at everyone and ten quid out of pocket. After apologising to half the EMT staff at St Pancras who have put up with (and laughed at) my antics I eventually get on to the 08:25 and make it to Leicester just before 10:00am. My next trip to Leicester will be by car. Anybody want to buy a partially used weekly ticket ? Cheap !
In time honoured, Oscars fashion I would like to say a few well-deserved thank yous:
FCC Management for not knowing how to run a train set let alone part of a public transport system.
EMT Management for forcing their staff into ridiculous, indefensible and confrontational positions with the travelling public.
The Conservative government for selling off British Rail to a bunch of property speculators who knew even less about running a train set than FCC do.
The Labour government for perpetuating this de-nationalised, in-effective and costly nonsense.
The Liberal Democrats for keeping quiet about it.
Thursday 14 January 2010
Thursday 14th January, 2010
It’s raining this morning. This has 2 effects on the walk to the station: 1 - I am showered with slush by several passing cars; and 2 – it is incredibly slippery. I arrive at the station wet and exhausted from clambering over the bodies of fallen comrades.
However I am pleased to note that the new improved revised timetable appears to be in operation, albeit every train still seems to be either delayed (or cancelled). My best hope is a semi fast train to Sevenoaks due next on platform one.
I hover near the stairs, fearing a late alteration, but the train arrives at the advertised time, and seating room is available. This presents me with the sort of regular dilemma that I used to face in the good old days when the service was merely crap. I am faced with 2 rows of 3 seats, opposite one another. Both window seats are occupied, one of the aisle seats is occupied. I have a bag, and a dripping wet umbrella. Which seat do I choose?
Factors to consider include:
(1) Seat width. Who have FCC’s train seats been designed for? Supermodels? Stick insects? Certainly not me and I am certain that, in common with most other aspects of my being, my width is no greater than average.
(2) Leg room. Clearly better if there is nobody opposite, although this will inevitably last for only one stop.
(3) Temperature. The heater runs along the side of the carriage. When on it can be unbearably hot, but it is impossible to predict when this will be (there is no clear correlation with the external weather conditions). However this is not a factor on this occasion as the window seats are not available.
(4) Precipitation. If it is raining outside it can also rain inside if you sit in either the window or middle seat and wet bags or umbrellas have been put in the overhead luggage rack.
(5) Ease of entry and exit. Entry and exit from either the central or window seats requires significant co-operation from your fellow passengers (not always forthcoming).
I usually conclude that the best option is an aisle seat on the basis of seat width and ease of exit. Also, following a trick learned from a colleague when boarding an easyjet flight, if both aisle and window seats are occupied, and you studiously avoid eye contact then, rather than aiming for the empty middle seat, passengers boarding later will tend to opt for seats elsewhere that are more easily accessible.
So I settle into the empty aisle seat, stowed my dripping possessions behind the seat, and enjoy a comfortable journey to Radlett. More passengers join and, although I studiously study my book it is no use, there are more passengers than seats, and one chap is clearly aiming to squeeze himself into the middle seat. He is solidly built, most likely a sporting chap, and I can see that I am about to have an uncomfortable problem.
The mechanics work something like this:
(1) a person wider than supermodel inserts themselves into center seat;
(2) the resulting physical forces act simultaneously on the people in the window and aisle seats;
(3) the pelvis of person in window seat is prevented from moving any further by wall of carriage;
(4) therefore the only ‘give’ is the person in the aisle seat, who is forced out into the aisle, the extent of their movement being dictated by the amount by which the width of the new arrival exceeds the width of the seat.
When inserting themselves into the center seat the experienced traveler may also adopt the ‘leading shoulder’ technique, which involves first putting one shoulder into the back of the seat, and then sliding across such that the shoulder of the person in the aisle seat is also forced out, and away from the seat in favour of the new occupant’s shoulder. When the new arrival is of, say, rugby playing size the effect is proportionally increased.
In this case the leading shoulder technique was not used. However a significant portion of my left buttock was still left dangling over the void. At the next stop, Estree & Borehamwood, I noticed a peculiar new physical experience. For some reason at that stop the tracks seem to tilt gently away from the platform. The result is a further force on the occupant of the aisle seat both from the tilt of the train, and the resulting additional force from the person in the center seat. The natural response is to look for something to hang on to but, short of grabbing a stranger’s leg, gripping opportunities are limited. What appears to happen instead is that the left buttock, which (in common with the right buttock) I had previously regarded as largely decorative, becomes a sort of clasping tool, thus exercising a small, but sufficient, amount of grip on the seat cushion. Quite effective it was too, albeit not entirely comfortable, and I was relieved when we pulled out of the station.
The rest of the journey continued in relative comfort. Unfortunately the rest of the journey was only as far as West Hampstead. Incredibly it seems that, in the all pervading cold and damp that seems to have decimated the service in recent weeks, something has remained dry enough to spontaneously combust in Central London with the result that no trains would proceed through London for the second successive day.
Here is an extract from the FCC live updates page on their website for Brighton to Bedford services for your further amusement:
'This train will be terminated at London Bridge. It will call additionally at: London Bridge. It will no longer call at: Preston Park, Hassocks, Burgess Hill, Wivelsfield, Haywards Heath, Three Bridges, Gatwick Airport, East Croydon, London Bridge, London Blackfriars, City Thameslink, Farringdon, St Pancras International, St Albans City, Luton Airport Parkway, Luton, Flitwick and Bedford. This is due to a problem currently under investigation.'
However I am pleased to note that the new improved revised timetable appears to be in operation, albeit every train still seems to be either delayed (or cancelled). My best hope is a semi fast train to Sevenoaks due next on platform one.
I hover near the stairs, fearing a late alteration, but the train arrives at the advertised time, and seating room is available. This presents me with the sort of regular dilemma that I used to face in the good old days when the service was merely crap. I am faced with 2 rows of 3 seats, opposite one another. Both window seats are occupied, one of the aisle seats is occupied. I have a bag, and a dripping wet umbrella. Which seat do I choose?
Factors to consider include:
(1) Seat width. Who have FCC’s train seats been designed for? Supermodels? Stick insects? Certainly not me and I am certain that, in common with most other aspects of my being, my width is no greater than average.
(2) Leg room. Clearly better if there is nobody opposite, although this will inevitably last for only one stop.
(3) Temperature. The heater runs along the side of the carriage. When on it can be unbearably hot, but it is impossible to predict when this will be (there is no clear correlation with the external weather conditions). However this is not a factor on this occasion as the window seats are not available.
(4) Precipitation. If it is raining outside it can also rain inside if you sit in either the window or middle seat and wet bags or umbrellas have been put in the overhead luggage rack.
(5) Ease of entry and exit. Entry and exit from either the central or window seats requires significant co-operation from your fellow passengers (not always forthcoming).
I usually conclude that the best option is an aisle seat on the basis of seat width and ease of exit. Also, following a trick learned from a colleague when boarding an easyjet flight, if both aisle and window seats are occupied, and you studiously avoid eye contact then, rather than aiming for the empty middle seat, passengers boarding later will tend to opt for seats elsewhere that are more easily accessible.
So I settle into the empty aisle seat, stowed my dripping possessions behind the seat, and enjoy a comfortable journey to Radlett. More passengers join and, although I studiously study my book it is no use, there are more passengers than seats, and one chap is clearly aiming to squeeze himself into the middle seat. He is solidly built, most likely a sporting chap, and I can see that I am about to have an uncomfortable problem.
The mechanics work something like this:
(1) a person wider than supermodel inserts themselves into center seat;
(2) the resulting physical forces act simultaneously on the people in the window and aisle seats;
(3) the pelvis of person in window seat is prevented from moving any further by wall of carriage;
(4) therefore the only ‘give’ is the person in the aisle seat, who is forced out into the aisle, the extent of their movement being dictated by the amount by which the width of the new arrival exceeds the width of the seat.
When inserting themselves into the center seat the experienced traveler may also adopt the ‘leading shoulder’ technique, which involves first putting one shoulder into the back of the seat, and then sliding across such that the shoulder of the person in the aisle seat is also forced out, and away from the seat in favour of the new occupant’s shoulder. When the new arrival is of, say, rugby playing size the effect is proportionally increased.
In this case the leading shoulder technique was not used. However a significant portion of my left buttock was still left dangling over the void. At the next stop, Estree & Borehamwood, I noticed a peculiar new physical experience. For some reason at that stop the tracks seem to tilt gently away from the platform. The result is a further force on the occupant of the aisle seat both from the tilt of the train, and the resulting additional force from the person in the center seat. The natural response is to look for something to hang on to but, short of grabbing a stranger’s leg, gripping opportunities are limited. What appears to happen instead is that the left buttock, which (in common with the right buttock) I had previously regarded as largely decorative, becomes a sort of clasping tool, thus exercising a small, but sufficient, amount of grip on the seat cushion. Quite effective it was too, albeit not entirely comfortable, and I was relieved when we pulled out of the station.
The rest of the journey continued in relative comfort. Unfortunately the rest of the journey was only as far as West Hampstead. Incredibly it seems that, in the all pervading cold and damp that seems to have decimated the service in recent weeks, something has remained dry enough to spontaneously combust in Central London with the result that no trains would proceed through London for the second successive day.
Here is an extract from the FCC live updates page on their website for Brighton to Bedford services for your further amusement:
'This train will be terminated at London Bridge. It will call additionally at: London Bridge. It will no longer call at: Preston Park, Hassocks, Burgess Hill, Wivelsfield, Haywards Heath, Three Bridges, Gatwick Airport, East Croydon, London Bridge, London Blackfriars, City Thameslink, Farringdon, St Pancras International, St Albans City, Luton Airport Parkway, Luton, Flitwick and Bedford. This is due to a problem currently under investigation.'
Wednesday 13 January 2010
Wednesday 13th January, 2010
Light snow as I walk to the station - no more than a light drizzle that just happens to be a bit chilly. FCC have promised a return to the new improved revised timetable today, but I arrive at the station to find they have managed to create havoc out of even these 'severe weather conditions' (or do they just provide a convenient ongoing smokescreen?).
The delayed 08.06 to Sevenoaks manages to drag itself from its siding and into the platform at around half past. We make it as far as Kentish Town, where the driver informs us that, due to the severe delay to this service, and the severe weather conditions, the train will terminate. But it's ok, he tells us, there are other trains behind us and he thinks they might be going as far as St Pancras. Great!
What he doesn't tell us, but of course what we all know, is that every following service will already be stuffed fuller than the oven on Christmas Day, will be at least as hot and will smell a lot worse. Realising that there is more chance of FCC showering us with tenners than being able to get even a single additional person on, the entire passenger count makes a dive for the Northern Line for a second helping of commuter horror. Two trains come and go before I am able to board, and the one I am able to get on isn't going where I want to go. Still, I figure it's better to get on and at least head vaguely in the right direction.
Several trains later I emerge, and realise that I forgot to swipe my oyster card when I got on the underground. I only need to say 'First Capi..' to the man at the barrier before he gives me a pitying look and lets me through.
I should have gone home by now, but FCC's website says all Northbound trains are leaving from St Pancras, one every 15 minutes and on balance I prefer to sit here than face the overcrowding and unpleasantness. It's all very depressing. Still, at least travelling with FCC there is little chance of finding a train to throw yourself under.
The delayed 08.06 to Sevenoaks manages to drag itself from its siding and into the platform at around half past. We make it as far as Kentish Town, where the driver informs us that, due to the severe delay to this service, and the severe weather conditions, the train will terminate. But it's ok, he tells us, there are other trains behind us and he thinks they might be going as far as St Pancras. Great!
What he doesn't tell us, but of course what we all know, is that every following service will already be stuffed fuller than the oven on Christmas Day, will be at least as hot and will smell a lot worse. Realising that there is more chance of FCC showering us with tenners than being able to get even a single additional person on, the entire passenger count makes a dive for the Northern Line for a second helping of commuter horror. Two trains come and go before I am able to board, and the one I am able to get on isn't going where I want to go. Still, I figure it's better to get on and at least head vaguely in the right direction.
Several trains later I emerge, and realise that I forgot to swipe my oyster card when I got on the underground. I only need to say 'First Capi..' to the man at the barrier before he gives me a pitying look and lets me through.
I should have gone home by now, but FCC's website says all Northbound trains are leaving from St Pancras, one every 15 minutes and on balance I prefer to sit here than face the overcrowding and unpleasantness. It's all very depressing. Still, at least travelling with FCC there is little chance of finding a train to throw yourself under.
Monday 11 January 2010
Monday 11th January, 2010, evening
With FCC continuing to trumpet their own incompetence on their website throughout the day I weighed up the options for the journey home. Following my largely favourable (albeit post mad morning rush) experience on their Great Eastern route this morning I decided to head back on the same route, from Moorgate to Hatfield, via a change at Finsbury Park, and then travel from Hatfield to St Albans by bus.
The plan was a work of military precision. Catch the 17.25 from Moorgate to arrive at Finsbury Park at 17.37. Hop across the platform for the 17.41 from Finsbury Park, due in to Hatfield at 17.58. Then to bus stop B for the 301 service to St Albans at 18.09.
Feeling rather pleased with myself I arrive at Moorgate to find the 17.25 waiting for me on the platform. Quite crowded, but find a seat towards the front of the train and off we set. Alight at Finsbury Park dead on time, and scuttle to the front of the platform to pick up the 17.41. This arrives a minute late and, oh dear, it is packed. The doors open and, predictably, nobody gets out. Not quite so good then. Clearly the trick with this route is to get on at St Pancras.
A very familiar scenario unfolds. People outside the train shout and bang on the windows asking those inside the train to move down. Those inside the train look away and pretend they haven’t heard. Eventually I squeeze on, and we set off three or four minutes late. It could be tight at Hatfield, especially as I don’t know where the bus stop is, but we should be ok as long as there are no further delays.
I needn’t have worried. We pull into Hatfield at 18.03 and I arrive at the bus stop at 18.06.
Now I’ve never really understood buses. Obviously I understand them in the sense that they are large vehicles designed to transport lots of people on the road. What I mean is that I’ve never really been able to work out which ones go where, the bewildering array of timetables, the confusing layout of big bus stops, how much the fares are, whether you need to stick your arm out to stop them when you want to get on, whether you need to ring the bell to stop them when you want to get off, why the top deck still hits the tree branches even though the buses go along the same route and under the same trees several times every day. I just find them confusing, so I have tended to avoid them since I left full time education.
My how things have changed. Inside the bus shelter is a tv screen showing the list of forthcoming departures, telling me that my bus, the 18.09 is due next, and that my proposed destination is on its route. Perfect. This is going to be a piece of cake.
Except that it isn’t. 18.09 comes, and goes, with no sign of a bus. My bus does, however, disappear from the screen. It turns out that bus stops are less sophisticated than FCC stations, and that the departure boards only show what time the buses are supposed to arrive and depart. They do not (and do not pretend to) tell you what is actually going to happen. The screen informs me that the next bus is due at 18.20, but is not going my way, followed by the 18.24, which is. 18.20, 18.24, and indeed 18.30 all come and go with no sign of any buses at all at my stop. Conversely around 7 buses have passed through going in the opposite direction.
Most of the other occupants of the shelter are clearly seasoned bus travellers and know the drill. They spring up excitedly as every bus pulls in, regardless of direction or what it says on the front. They jump onto it, talk to the driver, and then climb off looking dejected after the driver tells them he is going the wrong way (the wrong way for them, that is).
Most of them eventually slope off into the evening and at 18.32 I decide to cut my losses and do the same. Yes, I’m almost certain that three buses all going my way came around the corner as soon as I had gone, but as (a) our gym is within half an hours walk, (b) Mrs Wild was engaged in her daily gym visit and (c) she would be leaving for home at 7.02pm on the dot I felt that this represented by best chance of getting home.
I’m happy to report that all went to plan from there.
So, it seems that buses are not the answer. However at least I made it home in reasonable time on an evening where it seems FCC have surpassed even themselves on the Thameslink route. I have heard of one fellow traveller who boarded a train scheduled to take him to Harpenden, only to find that it terminated at West Hampstead, and another who was sat in a coffee shop at St Pancras pondering his ever diminishing options for getting home.
Today’s miserable, snivelling excuse for a service provided by FCC really has been a low point even by their truly pathetic standards, and I have just heard that we are in for more of the same tomorrow. What is it going to take?
The plan was a work of military precision. Catch the 17.25 from Moorgate to arrive at Finsbury Park at 17.37. Hop across the platform for the 17.41 from Finsbury Park, due in to Hatfield at 17.58. Then to bus stop B for the 301 service to St Albans at 18.09.
Feeling rather pleased with myself I arrive at Moorgate to find the 17.25 waiting for me on the platform. Quite crowded, but find a seat towards the front of the train and off we set. Alight at Finsbury Park dead on time, and scuttle to the front of the platform to pick up the 17.41. This arrives a minute late and, oh dear, it is packed. The doors open and, predictably, nobody gets out. Not quite so good then. Clearly the trick with this route is to get on at St Pancras.
A very familiar scenario unfolds. People outside the train shout and bang on the windows asking those inside the train to move down. Those inside the train look away and pretend they haven’t heard. Eventually I squeeze on, and we set off three or four minutes late. It could be tight at Hatfield, especially as I don’t know where the bus stop is, but we should be ok as long as there are no further delays.
I needn’t have worried. We pull into Hatfield at 18.03 and I arrive at the bus stop at 18.06.
Now I’ve never really understood buses. Obviously I understand them in the sense that they are large vehicles designed to transport lots of people on the road. What I mean is that I’ve never really been able to work out which ones go where, the bewildering array of timetables, the confusing layout of big bus stops, how much the fares are, whether you need to stick your arm out to stop them when you want to get on, whether you need to ring the bell to stop them when you want to get off, why the top deck still hits the tree branches even though the buses go along the same route and under the same trees several times every day. I just find them confusing, so I have tended to avoid them since I left full time education.
My how things have changed. Inside the bus shelter is a tv screen showing the list of forthcoming departures, telling me that my bus, the 18.09 is due next, and that my proposed destination is on its route. Perfect. This is going to be a piece of cake.
Except that it isn’t. 18.09 comes, and goes, with no sign of a bus. My bus does, however, disappear from the screen. It turns out that bus stops are less sophisticated than FCC stations, and that the departure boards only show what time the buses are supposed to arrive and depart. They do not (and do not pretend to) tell you what is actually going to happen. The screen informs me that the next bus is due at 18.20, but is not going my way, followed by the 18.24, which is. 18.20, 18.24, and indeed 18.30 all come and go with no sign of any buses at all at my stop. Conversely around 7 buses have passed through going in the opposite direction.
Most of the other occupants of the shelter are clearly seasoned bus travellers and know the drill. They spring up excitedly as every bus pulls in, regardless of direction or what it says on the front. They jump onto it, talk to the driver, and then climb off looking dejected after the driver tells them he is going the wrong way (the wrong way for them, that is).
Most of them eventually slope off into the evening and at 18.32 I decide to cut my losses and do the same. Yes, I’m almost certain that three buses all going my way came around the corner as soon as I had gone, but as (a) our gym is within half an hours walk, (b) Mrs Wild was engaged in her daily gym visit and (c) she would be leaving for home at 7.02pm on the dot I felt that this represented by best chance of getting home.
I’m happy to report that all went to plan from there.
So, it seems that buses are not the answer. However at least I made it home in reasonable time on an evening where it seems FCC have surpassed even themselves on the Thameslink route. I have heard of one fellow traveller who boarded a train scheduled to take him to Harpenden, only to find that it terminated at West Hampstead, and another who was sat in a coffee shop at St Pancras pondering his ever diminishing options for getting home.
Today’s miserable, snivelling excuse for a service provided by FCC really has been a low point even by their truly pathetic standards, and I have just heard that we are in for more of the same tomorrow. What is it going to take?
Monday 11th January, 2010, morning
Like most I’ve had enough of the snow now. There’s been a light fall overnight, making the walk to the station more treacherous as it hides the partially thawed grey slush underneath. A weekend’s use has given the previously pristine park a slight yellowish tinge, punctuated by the odd turd courtesy of the less diligent dog owning members of our community.
I arrive at the (deva)station to a scene of general despair. FCC has made the most of the weekend and yesterday’s slight thaw, and has worked tirelessly to fail to find a way to fix the problems and so the emergency timetable is still in operation. This amounts to one train every half an hour with a few random extras. Even by their standards this is a pathetic performance, and a pitiful service to support the volume of commuters using this line. They offer their ‘sincerest apologies’. How much longer before we can reciprocate, and offer them our ‘sincerest condolences’ for the loss of their franchise?
Trains arriving at St Albans are already crowded and I stand no chance of getting on the next one. FCC announce that they have provided a free coach transport to Hatfield Station for anyone who would like to sample the quality of their service on the Great Northern Route. I consider their kind offer for a few seconds and, in the interests of warmth, experimentation, and maybe making it to work before it is time go home, I decide to accept.
I board the coach and settle into a comfortable seat. After around 20 minutes of rush hour traffic we’re almost back at my house. Traffic then improves somewhat and the journey speed increases. As we thunder down the Hatfield Road we pass what I assume is the Oaklands College First XV out training on a snowy pitch. Hard men, these rugby types. After 35 minutes we arrive at Hatfield Station.
There is a train due in 10 minutes which promises to take me fast to Finsbury Park. It arrives on time and I take a seat on a nice new, comparatively clean train. There is plenty of space, adjustable air conditioning vents and the ride is very smooth and quiet. A revelation. Is it always like this I wonder?
I get off at Finsbury Park to find that the next Moorgate service is due in 10 minutes. This is much more like it – a dirty, old, tired and generally crappy train. Crowded (albeit not on the St Albans scale) but certainly bearable for the short journey from here into Moorgate.
The total train journey time was around 40 minutes, roughly the same as the journey from St Albans to Moorgate. Wonder what the parking is like at Hatfield?
I arrive at the (deva)station to a scene of general despair. FCC has made the most of the weekend and yesterday’s slight thaw, and has worked tirelessly to fail to find a way to fix the problems and so the emergency timetable is still in operation. This amounts to one train every half an hour with a few random extras. Even by their standards this is a pathetic performance, and a pitiful service to support the volume of commuters using this line. They offer their ‘sincerest apologies’. How much longer before we can reciprocate, and offer them our ‘sincerest condolences’ for the loss of their franchise?
Trains arriving at St Albans are already crowded and I stand no chance of getting on the next one. FCC announce that they have provided a free coach transport to Hatfield Station for anyone who would like to sample the quality of their service on the Great Northern Route. I consider their kind offer for a few seconds and, in the interests of warmth, experimentation, and maybe making it to work before it is time go home, I decide to accept.
I board the coach and settle into a comfortable seat. After around 20 minutes of rush hour traffic we’re almost back at my house. Traffic then improves somewhat and the journey speed increases. As we thunder down the Hatfield Road we pass what I assume is the Oaklands College First XV out training on a snowy pitch. Hard men, these rugby types. After 35 minutes we arrive at Hatfield Station.
There is a train due in 10 minutes which promises to take me fast to Finsbury Park. It arrives on time and I take a seat on a nice new, comparatively clean train. There is plenty of space, adjustable air conditioning vents and the ride is very smooth and quiet. A revelation. Is it always like this I wonder?
I get off at Finsbury Park to find that the next Moorgate service is due in 10 minutes. This is much more like it – a dirty, old, tired and generally crappy train. Crowded (albeit not on the St Albans scale) but certainly bearable for the short journey from here into Moorgate.
The total train journey time was around 40 minutes, roughly the same as the journey from St Albans to Moorgate. Wonder what the parking is like at Hatfield?
Friday 8 January 2010
Friday 8th January, 2010
Kids' school is open again this morning, so I do the honourable thing and drive them there before making for the station. God how I miss driving to work. Heater that you work yourself, radio, wide seat, no forced bodily contact and, above all, that feeling of being in CONTROL (either of the car, or, when you hit the ice, your sphincter muscles if you are lucky).
Check the FCC website before heading to the station. Emergency snow timetable, with one train only every half hour. Am informed by very good friend, follower and fellow traveller that the station is packed, and trains arriving at the station are already full. Decide to press on. Arrive at the station just after a London bound departure to find the crowds have thinned, and I get on the next train without difficulty.
I'm pleased to have missed the morning's chaos, but I don't understand FCC's plans for the day at all. The timetable suggests half hourly trains all day, until around 9pm when it will all stop. Surely if they can run trains, they can run trains, and the timetable should gradually return to what they laughably call 'normal' once the trains all get to the right place? By simply running trains every half an hour are they not just perpetuating the problem of all the trains being in the wrong place?
Check the FCC website before heading to the station. Emergency snow timetable, with one train only every half hour. Am informed by very good friend, follower and fellow traveller that the station is packed, and trains arriving at the station are already full. Decide to press on. Arrive at the station just after a London bound departure to find the crowds have thinned, and I get on the next train without difficulty.
I'm pleased to have missed the morning's chaos, but I don't understand FCC's plans for the day at all. The timetable suggests half hourly trains all day, until around 9pm when it will all stop. Surely if they can run trains, they can run trains, and the timetable should gradually return to what they laughably call 'normal' once the trains all get to the right place? By simply running trains every half an hour are they not just perpetuating the problem of all the trains being in the wrong place?
Thursday 7th January, 2010
Spoke too soon.
As I walk to the station through Wednesday's thick snow my suspicions are slightly aroused as there seem to be more people than usual walking the other way. Nobody says anything. Perhaps they are just out enjoying a nice walk before it all turns grey?
Arrive to find chaos at the station. Major power supply problems caused by the weather conditions. No trains travelling North or South except one Northbound train due to arrive in the next 20 minutes, which will then go on to Bedford, turn around, and return to London calling at all stations en route.
How can this be possible. Presumably either there is power or there isn't. I seem to recall from my Hornby days that when you unplug the train set it all stopped. I don't remember one train being able to escape. Maybe it's more complicated that that? Perhaps FCC still has some steam driven rolling stock.
I debate with myself whether to stick around for 20 minutes to witness the Flying Scotsman passing through, and then wait a further 2 hours for it to return to transport me to London. It's fair to say that it's not a long debate, and I head for home.
On the way I mention the lack of trains to people heading towards me. The reaction is mixed. Some offer a resigned shrug, others a 'tut' or two, most are pretty cheery about it and one fellow shouted with delight and performed a double axel followed by a triple toe loop (I know this because I am forced to watch T***ers on Ice or whatever it is called).
All, however, seem at least grateful to have someone tell them what was going on and save them walking all the way to the station.
As I walk to the station through Wednesday's thick snow my suspicions are slightly aroused as there seem to be more people than usual walking the other way. Nobody says anything. Perhaps they are just out enjoying a nice walk before it all turns grey?
Arrive to find chaos at the station. Major power supply problems caused by the weather conditions. No trains travelling North or South except one Northbound train due to arrive in the next 20 minutes, which will then go on to Bedford, turn around, and return to London calling at all stations en route.
How can this be possible. Presumably either there is power or there isn't. I seem to recall from my Hornby days that when you unplug the train set it all stopped. I don't remember one train being able to escape. Maybe it's more complicated that that? Perhaps FCC still has some steam driven rolling stock.
I debate with myself whether to stick around for 20 minutes to witness the Flying Scotsman passing through, and then wait a further 2 hours for it to return to transport me to London. It's fair to say that it's not a long debate, and I head for home.
On the way I mention the lack of trains to people heading towards me. The reaction is mixed. Some offer a resigned shrug, others a 'tut' or two, most are pretty cheery about it and one fellow shouted with delight and performed a double axel followed by a triple toe loop (I know this because I am forced to watch T***ers on Ice or whatever it is called).
All, however, seem at least grateful to have someone tell them what was going on and save them walking all the way to the station.
Thursday 7 January 2010
Wednesday 6th January, 2010
A reasonable covering of snow this morning so expect the worst. Arrive at station. Departure board shows a mass of delays, but a fast train due imminently. I step onto the platform, straight onto the train, get a seat and into Farringdon without delay.
Snow continues throughout the day so head for home early. Step onto platform at Farringdon, straight onto a fast train and back to St Albans at speed.
No complaints from me today. The two days of heavy snowfall so far this winter seem to have provided me with the two best days of recent travel. Is it just luck, or is there something to be said for this snow stuff?
Snow continues throughout the day so head for home early. Step onto platform at Farringdon, straight onto a fast train and back to St Albans at speed.
No complaints from me today. The two days of heavy snowfall so far this winter seem to have provided me with the two best days of recent travel. Is it just luck, or is there something to be said for this snow stuff?
Tuesday 5 January 2010
Tuesday 5th January, 2010
Snorbans Shuffle, round 2:
Arrive at station at 8.25 (a bit better – but hey, it’s a gradual process) to find that the 08.27 fast service had been cancelled. Something about lack of available train crew.
Instead, the departure board promises the semi fast 08.34 from platform 1, the slow 08.42 from platform 1 and the fast 08.43 from platform 3, all of which were due on time.
The popular choice seems to be platform 1 for the semi fast. I follow their lead and wait.
FCC blinks first. At 08.34 precisely we are informed that the previously on time 08.34 will now be delayed by 13 minutes!! How did that happen? Has it stopped just around the bend before the station? I look to the North - did I catch a glimpse of its laughing little yellow face peeking around the bend before darting back out of sight?
There is a mass ‘harrumph’ and exodus for platform 3.
This time I decide to call FCC’s bluff and wait on platform 1. The 08.42 trundles out of the siding and into the platform. I settle into a comfortable First Class seat and wait for the breakfast trolley ...
Arrive at station at 8.25 (a bit better – but hey, it’s a gradual process) to find that the 08.27 fast service had been cancelled. Something about lack of available train crew.
Instead, the departure board promises the semi fast 08.34 from platform 1, the slow 08.42 from platform 1 and the fast 08.43 from platform 3, all of which were due on time.
The popular choice seems to be platform 1 for the semi fast. I follow their lead and wait.
FCC blinks first. At 08.34 precisely we are informed that the previously on time 08.34 will now be delayed by 13 minutes!! How did that happen? Has it stopped just around the bend before the station? I look to the North - did I catch a glimpse of its laughing little yellow face peeking around the bend before darting back out of sight?
There is a mass ‘harrumph’ and exodus for platform 3.
This time I decide to call FCC’s bluff and wait on platform 1. The 08.42 trundles out of the siding and into the platform. I settle into a comfortable First Class seat and wait for the breakfast trolley ...
Monday 4 January 2010
Monday 4th January, 2010
Winter hibernation over, I head to the station to reap the benefit of FCC's New Year’s resolutions.
Arrived at 8.43 (I know, I know, but you’ve got to ease your way back gently) to find an updated new improved revised timetable in operation. Or ‘inoperation’ as described on the departure board – finger trouble? I wonder. This promised no London bound train for the next 15 minutes, followed by a flurry of activity with 3 london bound trains in the course of 10 minutes. A slow 08.48 from Platform 1, fast 09.05 from platform 3 and a delayed fast 09.02 due at 09.07 also on platform 3. Ideally set for a quick round of the ‘Snorbans Shuffle’.
Opening move: I played safe and made for platform 1 in plenty of time to catch the slow train. 08.56. No sign of a train, but the board still promises an on time departure. 08.57. A northbound train terminates at platform 2. I smell a rat. Could this be the 08.58? How will the driver get it into the siding, get to the other end of the train, drive it to platform 1, open and close the doors and depart by 08.58? Is it a bluff? Who will crack first?
FCC makes its move. The departure board changes. The 08.58 will now depart at 09.03, the train at platform 2 pulls off and into the siding. I make my second move, heading for the stairs at a brisk walk and over to platform 3 to catch the fast 09.05. Arrive on the platform at 09.00 to find that FCC has made its second move. The delayed 09.02 has mysteriously overtaken the 09.05 and is due next, at 09.04.
The silence is broken by the pounding of footsteps as the driver of the train now in the siding sprints from one end of the train to the other. The train moves into platform 1. Tension rises.
09.02. FCC plays its Joker. The tannoy crackles into life and announces that the train approaching platform 3 is the delayed 09.02, and will consist of … 4 carriages.
Almost too late I realise that FCC have spent their Christmas mischievously decoupling the 8 carriage trains. The platform’s too busy, I’ll never get on. I sprint back to the stairs and there’s panic. I fight against the tide of people running down to get on the 09.02. Some continue. Others turn back, sensing the panic, and run for platform 1.
I arrive back on platform 1 just in time to board the delayed 8.58. The doors close and we pull out. Is that the sound of laughter I hear over the tannoy? What fun.
The journey continues without incident, and with no sign of a 4 carriage rain thundering past …
Arrived at 8.43 (I know, I know, but you’ve got to ease your way back gently) to find an updated new improved revised timetable in operation. Or ‘inoperation’ as described on the departure board – finger trouble? I wonder. This promised no London bound train for the next 15 minutes, followed by a flurry of activity with 3 london bound trains in the course of 10 minutes. A slow 08.48 from Platform 1, fast 09.05 from platform 3 and a delayed fast 09.02 due at 09.07 also on platform 3. Ideally set for a quick round of the ‘Snorbans Shuffle’.
Opening move: I played safe and made for platform 1 in plenty of time to catch the slow train. 08.56. No sign of a train, but the board still promises an on time departure. 08.57. A northbound train terminates at platform 2. I smell a rat. Could this be the 08.58? How will the driver get it into the siding, get to the other end of the train, drive it to platform 1, open and close the doors and depart by 08.58? Is it a bluff? Who will crack first?
FCC makes its move. The departure board changes. The 08.58 will now depart at 09.03, the train at platform 2 pulls off and into the siding. I make my second move, heading for the stairs at a brisk walk and over to platform 3 to catch the fast 09.05. Arrive on the platform at 09.00 to find that FCC has made its second move. The delayed 09.02 has mysteriously overtaken the 09.05 and is due next, at 09.04.
The silence is broken by the pounding of footsteps as the driver of the train now in the siding sprints from one end of the train to the other. The train moves into platform 1. Tension rises.
09.02. FCC plays its Joker. The tannoy crackles into life and announces that the train approaching platform 3 is the delayed 09.02, and will consist of … 4 carriages.
Almost too late I realise that FCC have spent their Christmas mischievously decoupling the 8 carriage trains. The platform’s too busy, I’ll never get on. I sprint back to the stairs and there’s panic. I fight against the tide of people running down to get on the 09.02. Some continue. Others turn back, sensing the panic, and run for platform 1.
I arrive back on platform 1 just in time to board the delayed 8.58. The doors close and we pull out. Is that the sound of laughter I hear over the tannoy? What fun.
The journey continues without incident, and with no sign of a 4 carriage rain thundering past …
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