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?