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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
