We decide to set of for London late in the day, this to save finding somewhere to have dinner. So, we drive to Dover Priory to catch the quarter to seven train. For me it is nothing special, of course. An hour later we arrive in Stratford, and then make our way to Custom House along Victoria Dock Road. The DLR station is opposite the hotel, so apart from checking when the first train is in the morning, we go to check in and make our way to the room.
It may have only cost £80, but there was tea and coffee making stuff, a 'pod' style bathroom, clean sheets; what else could anyone ask for in a hotel? We go to the bar, have a drink before getting our head down as we had an early start on the morrow.
Wednesday.
We got a mail through from the tour company telling us that the start for the tour was now 06:40, so we had to be at King's Cross well before then. We woke at five, had a hot drink and after checking out made our way to the station. Now, it seems we had underestimated how long this trip would take us. I looked at my watch and it revealed itself to be quarter past six and we still had to get from Warren street to King's Cross.
We arrived, with tie to grab a couple of rolls and drinks from a kiosk, make our way to the platform. I do to the fron to snap Tornado, and Jools finds our seats in the very last coach of the train, which is confusingly coach A, a whle train-length away from coach B.
As we settle in to our compartment, with which we share with a mother and teenage son, the train eases away right on time and we are on our way. Right way entering the darkness that is Gasworks Tunnel. Soon enough a nice young man brings us round hot drinks, and so we settle down to have our rolls and watch North London roll by as we head north.
As we require two water stops as well as giving way to faster expresses, it was a leisurely trip north, with lots of stops looking at fields or flower-cover embankments. We drank more coffee and ate bacon butties that were brought round. In fact, the second water stop was scrubbed, and at one point we were 20 minutes ahead of schedule, but more stops brought us into York bang on time.
The choice was, whether to take shots of Tornado resting in York station, or head to the NRM to get my shots before it got too crowded. In the end, I decide to route march to the NRM to get my shots and get out of there. I know they was without looking at the signs, so I march on, barging the elderly and those slow-walkers out of the way.
Upon arrival at the museum, we were told by a nice young lady that the queues were shorter at the car park entrance. Promise? I asked here, well, it was she said. So, I strode on, and indeed the queue was less than 5 minutes. I go in and found most of York already there. I went to the turntable to get the shots I could, not the one I wanted, but hey! I saw more and more people coming in, so I grabbed the last of the shots and made my way out.
Last think I heard was that Jools was heading to the Minster, so I walked there in order to try to catch up with her. I queued up some more to get in, and Jools then called me to say that due to the length of queue she decided not to go in. So, I head to the Chapterhouse as it is probably my favourite building in all of England, and to go to the Mister and not see it would be a crime. And I have the place just about to myself so I take my shots, once I have already taken, but it is glorious.
I tell Jools I will meet her in the Three Legged Mare (a pub), and once I got my shots I head there, only to find Jools not there, so I get drinks and head out into the small beer garden to cool down and enjoy the summer sunshine.
Sitting there with Jools I overhear a conversation from a table the other side of the patio, and hear them taking about getting some old amps repaired. So, in a pause in the converstion I ask if they know where there is a second hand record shop in the city. Oh, there's one around the corner one tells me.
So, after supping my ale, we walk through the city gate and sure enough on the other side of the road was the record shop. I go in, looking for a record by Denim or the Fatima Mansions. The very last record I looked at, I recognised the cover. But it couldn't be, could it? But it was.
Back in the day, in the early 80s, my weekday evenings would be spent listening to the John Peel show, and many, many records he played I bought or at least tried to buy. Some, though, were hard to get at the time, let alone 30 years later, even on the interwebs. However, one album I have always wanted was Politically Crrect by Jane Bond and the Undercovermen, mainly for the cover of Hot Rod Lincoln, which Peel would play many time. I even taped it twice when he did.
But here it was, and only a tenner. So, it was mine. I had a huge, huge grin on my face the rest of the day, and clutched it to my chest. I have only been trying for 30 years to get this, and I find it by chance.
We find a place to eat and we both have vegitarian Mexican food and cold, cold beer. Lovely.
We wander round York, whiling the way until it was time to head to the station ready for our half five departure. As five o'clock approached, the platofrm filled up, and it began to get quite dangerouns. As Tornado backed onto it's carriages, people did not back out of the way, making it difficult for the driver to see clearly. People surged forward to get shots, not caring who they pushed out of their way. It began to feel dangerous, as trains tried to leave from the other track on the platofrm, and people ignored it.
I joined Jools in the carriage and we made ready for our departure. It was another gentle run south, with a scheduled arrival at eleven. At times it seemed to be taking an age, but as now we were the other end of the train, we were serreaded by Tornad the who trip, and heard the whistle loud and clear as we roared down Stoke Bank 75 years to the day since Mallard broke the steam record.
Darkenss begain to fall as we headed through the home counties, and by the time we were back in London it was dark. At twenty past eleven, we pulled into King's Cross. I tried to get some shots, and some even came out. We joined the drunks on the Tube as we went back to Waterloo and the UJC. We got in just before midnight, shattered but having another wonderful day.
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