And so, on Saturday the alarm went off once again in what appeared to be the middle of the night, and we climbed out of bed ready for an exciting day. We must have been early as the cats were still asleep, even Sulu had not started his caterwauling.

Due to engineering, there were no trains from Dover, so we drove to Faversham on the north Kent coast to catch a London bound train there.A railway station at just before six in the morning is not the warmest place in the world; especially when the cafe and waiting rooms are all locked. We made do with pacig up and down and stomping our feet. The seven minutes past six train arrived on time, and soon we were slipping through the Medway towns and up into the south eastern suburbs of London.



Victoria is a big old station, with modern shops and the suchlike fitted in wherever there is room. But, we had an hour to spare before our depature, and so we set off to find a place to sit down and have breakfast. Imagine our surprise that for most places, half seven is far too early for brerakfast and the lights were still off and chairs still on tables.



We made do with a coffee and a panini and a flick through the new slimline Saturday Times; a thinner paper for thin times, apparently.



The destination board had a departure for Folkestone Harbour, and the crowds seemed to be hanging around platform 2, and so we joined them. The Golden Arrow was the flagship service that ran down to the Channel ports to join ferries and carry the great and good on their merry way. The last train ferry sailed in 1994 when the Channel Tunnel opened, and the branch line down to Folkestone harbour has slowly been rotting ever since.The branch is one of the most spectacular on the British netowrk, and at 1 in 30 is one of the steepest line still in use. It winds its way though the town until it emerges at the harbour and reaches the station on the pier via a multi-arched brick jetty. Without doubt is the most beautiful line as it leaps over the fishing boats at anchor. It is no surprise then that the threat of closure is hanging over it and each special train that heads down is billed as potentially the last.



Just a little later than billed, the train edged into Victoria, and the hundreds of passengers rushed on to find our reserved seats. The windows were misted, but that was because it was a cold morning. Or so we thought.

It turned out that the heating had failed in tow of the carriages, our being one of them. It was a frost morning, and as the staff tried to turn the heating controls off and on, with no effect, we sat there and shivered. We hoped that as the journey continued, the heating would warm through.

This did not happen, and no matter how many cups of coffee we had, we sat there cold. The rest of the train was full, and so there was no chance of us finding a warmer seat, and so as we wandered through southern London we took turns in wiping the windows, so that we might be able to see something of our route.



Once we arrived at Folkestone, the train sat at the sidings waiting for the green light so we could descend to the harbour. I had tried to drum up interest through various groups on Flickr, so I had hoped there would be a few people to see the train arrive. As we inched our way down the branch, it became clear that we were going to be the main attraction of the day, with people climbing on roofs and taking up all possible view points as the steam engine took us down the branch. As we came out from between the final two houses and the harbour came into view, thousands of people were seen, and hundreds of shutters fired to record the event.



Time has not served the station well, 15 years without regular service has left the staion roofless, one track removed, and moss, grass and litter everywhere. Quite what the Orient Express passengers think of the surroundings in unclear, but it's not pretty for sure.




Most of us got off to take up positions to take pictures as the pacific was going to go up the branch in full steam for our cameras. When the time came, the engine burst into life and turned the grey air black with lots of smoke and steam as it pulled the dozen or so carriages upto the main line. I took my fiar share for sure.



Sadly, local businesses failed to take the chance to open, and most stayed shut as maybe four thousand people milled around whilst waiting for us to depart. The one chip shop that was open had queues out of the door for over two hours.







Once back on the train and heading back to london via the north Kent coast, the carriages were no warmer, and so we decided that we would get off at the next water stop at Canterbury and get something to eat and get warm, regardless of whether we made it back to the train in time.



Our favourite Belgian resturant has a branch right near the station, and we took a table nearest the warmest radiator and tucked in to herby garlic soup followed by something just as tasty.



Filled with good Belgian food and trappist beers, we decided to get a taxi the few miles to Faversham and to where our car was, as we could not face another three hours in the mobile fridge that was our carriage. That we paid for first class seats, and the other, cheaper carriages were all heated was frustrating. But being warm was worth more to us at that point than a seat as the sea whizzed by.

Even still, we had a great day, I got loads of great pictures, and we got to ride on one of the last trains down to the harbour.

Another great day.