Saturday 6th December 2025

Saturday, and instead of getting up early to go to the gym, I get up early to catch a train.

Or so I thought.

Can had said we might meet up in Great Yarmouth on the 6th, but then heard nothing, so it came as a surprise to hear on Tuesday it was still on.

And after some rearranging of a family event, I agreed. Bought a new old folks railcard and ticket on Friday, and up at six, showered, dressed and had coffee, all was set.

All I had to do was catch the quarter to eight train from Dover.

Jools dropped me off, I walked in and went through the barriers, where three members of staff were hanging around.

There's no trains, one said.

He pointed to three empty platforms behind him.

But there will be, won't there, I laughed.

There's no electricity, he said. So no trains.

We're in the process of arranging replacement buses. My connection at Stratford of 50 minutes, looked in doubt.

Oh dear, what to do?

I call Jools to see if she'll take me to Ashford, as that's where staff said trains would be "normal".

She returned, and we zipped up the A20, to be met with three miles of stationary trucks waiting to get into the town. Not much fun for them.

Onto the motorway, and up to Ashford, she dropped me outside the station, and once I checked that there were actual trains running, I let Jools know and she went home.

I ended up catching the same service that would have run from from Dover, then starting at Folkestone. It was busy, but I got a seat.

Back on track.

Off at Stratford International, and instead of taking the DLR, as I had 50 minutes to kill, I walk through the shopping centre, or mall as I believe they're called these days, ignoring the endless windows full of shiny things.

Leaving Westfield, there is the arcing bridge over the regional rails and Underground lines, the sun had just risen ahead, and cast everything in warm golden light.

I walk down the steps and into the hall of the station, waiting to see when the platform for the train to Norwich would be announced.

So I people watched, the kid with the latest fashion in street ware, pushing through the barriers so not to pay, not taking his eyes from his mobile.

He had places to be.

Platform 10 in fifteen minutes, so I walk along the subway and walk up the steps to the platform, where a train to Clacton was just boarding. Not sure what was on, but the train was rammed.

Next train in was mine, so I walked to the far end of the platform, so upon arrival in Norwich I would be near the barriers.

The forecast was for rain all day, so the blue skies and endless sunshine was a welcome surprise.

Up the line, through Chelmsford, Colchester and Ipswich, where Simon got on, so we could talk on the last part of the journey up through Stowmarket and Diss to Norwich.

We walked round to platform 5 and found Cam on the train, so got on board, shook hands and waited for the train to depart.

There are two routes to Great Yarmouth from Norwich, the usual one through Acle, and the lesser used one to Reedham past Berney Arms, where the station now serves a single isolated pub, now closed, and a house or two.

And much to my joy, our train was the once daily service that stopped at the tiny station, to allow a walker to get off.

The line ran beside Breydon water, the water lapping at the brick wall of the flood defences, before running into Great Yarmouth Vauxhall, as was.

We get off and walk to the front of the station, for another to join us. We were no five, so we set off along the quay before setting off inland through the maze of rows, lanes and old houses and walls, crossed by modern roads, out of season the roads very quiet indeed.

We carry on, past the old Tollhouse and then along a section of the old town walls, emerging from under a tower to find the Blackfriar Tavern in front of us.

Inside, it was warm, and a bar filled with at least ten pumps of ales of all styles. We made our choices and settled down to talk and watch Norwich play on a mobile phone.

Sadly, Norwich lost 3-2, but not the step backwards that the result might appear.

At some point between rounds we order lunch, I have splendid fish and chips, and the cod was so fresh the flesh was the colour of fresh snow.

At four, we leave and walk in the gloaming to the second and final pub, only a short walk to the station, which was just as well as I had to get the 17:17 train to Norwich so I could get back at nine fifteen.

Inside the Red Herring, more like a terraced house than a pub, we have one more beer, and with half an hour, we leave and walk to the quay and back over the bridge to the station, arriving just as our three car FLiRT arrived.

We got on, and in a few minutes it trundled off into the night, heading west beside The Acle Straight, before stopping at Acle.

Into Norwich, which gave Simon and I ten minutes to get to platform 2 for our train south. We found a seat with a table halfway up the train.

We talked as the train went south, over the Wensum at Trouse, then accelerating to whisk us through the night back to Diss, Stowmarket and into Ipswich where I said farewell to Simon.

And hour then to London, I bought a coffee from the trolley, and that helped made the ride through the dark Essex countryside.

Down the Brentwood Bank, over the M25 and into London now, I just wanted to get home.

I climb off at Stratford, walk to the DLR station, wait three minutes for a train to take me to Stratford International, where I had a twenty minute wait for the Dover train.

When it pulled in, the train was rammed, full of shoppers and families. I stood to Ebbsfleet then got a seat next to a guy with a four pack of Kronenberg; he was halfway down the first can and was fast asleep.

Jools was waiting at Priory, I climb in and she drives us home back past the docks and up Jubilee Way to St Maggies.

There was time for a brew once inside, and some ginger nuts before I was so tired, I climbed the stairs to bed.

One of them good days.