Friday 23rd September 2016

Jools and I both had the day off, and so what to do? My initial plan was to go to Birmingham to look at the new, new New Street station, take some pictures and the such. This wasn't the only reason, the other one being that I wanted to travel on the line from Marylebone to Birmingham Moor Street, as they still have locomotive hauled services. Now I am sure for most of you this means diddly squat, but for folks like me, OK spotters, the chance to ride behind a loco and ride in wonderful Mk3 carriages was very tempting indeed. And buying our tickets in advance meant that we only paid £75 for the return trip.

Saying that, we had booked particular trains to travel on, so in theory limiting when we could travel. But when I looked at the tickets, the out portion had to be used on the 24th, but the return within the following month. And despite this the ticket said that it could not be used on all trains, but then failed to tell us which trains we could use it on. That we traveled on the 06:08 service from Martin Mill, and this most clearly is a peak service. What I'm saying is that none of the above makes sense, and if someone who knows something about tickets and railways is confused what chance does the casual passenger have?

But I digress.

We had to be up for five, and out of the house by ten to six to make it to Martin Mill for ten past and our train to London.

It is still nearly dark at that time, the days of standing on the platform watching a sunrise will have to wait for another year. In fact the 22nd marked the autumnal equinox, so the days are now shorter than the nights, and it is now dark before eight in the evenings. But there was light in the sky, a little anyway. The train is more than half empty, we get to choose a seat at a table round at a window, but looking outside we just saw reflections of ourselves looking back.

But as we trundle through the Kentish landscape to Ashford and Ebbsfleet, day dawns and mists rise from damp grounds, creating hauntingly beautiful landscapes. But we are now traveling at at least 125 mph, so there is no chance for photos, just sit back to enjoy the views. Or I would have, if it were not for the return for the allergies.

This was not unexpected; I have had bad attacks these last five years, or at least when I making note in my blogs. I have no idea what it is about this time of year I am allergic too, or if it an accumilation of the years irritants. But on the train, breathing in recirculated air, I was struggling. But once out of the train at St Pancras and walking to the tube station, my breathing was as clear a bell. No idea what is going on.

At least traveling away from The City meant the tube was comfortable for the short run to Baker Street, we then do down into the bowels of the earth to pick up a Bakerloo train one stop to Marylebone.

Marylbone is a small station for a terminal, and apart from a few others waiting for news on platforms for our departures, it was quiet. And then a commuter train came in and disgorged hundreds of passengers ensuring the concourse is busy until they all go down to the tube or other exits, and calmness returns.

Much to my disappointment, our train is not loco hauled, but is four DMUs joined together for an eight car set. But it does mean there was much room for all who wanted to ride.

Jools had bought bagels and a coffee for the ride, so as we ate, the train engines roared into life and we pulled out of the staion, into the long tunnel that took us out to Hamstead and the leafy suburbs. We were rattling along as such a rate, I could not see the names of the stations we passed through.

In and out of tunnels, from darkness to bright sunshine, and was very pleasant indeed. At least for me, for whom nothing is more enjoyable than looking out of the railway carriage window as the countryside flashes by.

The frst stop was Banbury, after passing through what the BBC used to call The Home Counties, all rolling countryside, deep shades of green, and all of it looking so glorious still in its summer colours.

We get off at the second stop, Leamington Spa, it is a fine station still bearing the branding of the old Great Western Railway; seats, awnings and all coloured brown and cream.

It was half nine, although we had eaten 90 minutes before, we felt some more coffee and maybe a slice of cake was needed. After struggling to find the way to the town centre, we cross a main road and soon see the large parish church rising, and I know from the maps I had looked at, that the tourist information office lay just the other side.

It was closed, but in the old Pump Room building, there was a cafe offering coffee and huge slices of coffee and walnut cake. We order bot. Each, and sit at a rickety table outside and savour the moist cake.

I suppose one of the most painful things we will remember about our visit, were the number of people sleeping in shop doorways. A town so apparently well off, and yet we counted at least five homeless people. Speaking to a Big Issue seller, the council refuses to accept that there is a homeless problem in the town; official figures show none. And yet......

This is in a stark contrast to the fine Regency town, which we had came for after all. Past the church, the town hall and to the main Regency part of town, smart buildings all occupied by fashionable brands and high street favourites. And yet it didn't seem to be that busy. As shopping is not our thing, unless it is for beads or records, we just look in the windows and laugh at the "fashions", most of which as far as the shoes are concerned, might render the wearer crippled.

We walk to the top of The Parade, then turning back down and walking back down the other side. We retire to the park beside the river., and watch as children feed the ducks and pigeons. It is fun, as it people watching, and of course, it is free. We spend a good half hour sitting on the bench, until we walked over the bridge to the parish church.

And then what? Well, Jools needed a hair cut, and there was a shop nearby, and they could squeeze her in. What should I do? Oh yeah, go to the pub. It is a Weatherspoons, which makes me feel dirty, but it is cheap and I can people watch again. And is interesting as most drinkers know each other and pass the time of day as they wait at the bar.

Jools comes back, hair looking tidy, so we have another drink and some nachos. And watch more people. A spotty herbert apparently does a drug deal on his phone, then goes out to meet a guy on a bike to pay for what he ordered. We overhear him talking in another call, swearing in quite an advanced way.

At one we walk back to the station to catch the train back home. There are a few people waiting too, and when our train arrives, we have nowhere to sit. But being the loco-hauled train I hoped for, there were seats in the vestibule, so we sit there, and even have windows to look out of.

At Banbury a seat becomes free, so we move there and settle back to watch the afternoon roll by as we speed towards London. The ride is so smooth, my eyes drop and I snooze on and off. Jools is already snoring gently.

We arrive in Lodnon and find that rush hour was beginning early. After a short trip to Baker Street, we have to fight to get on a train to Kings Cross, but we do make it.

We have half an hour to get to our train, and so on the way Jools goes into M&S for some drink and some pistachio cookies to munch on. I go to grab a seat, so we will be comfortable on the last leg home. It is full as we pull out, and I have some git sitting next to me who insists on taking the whole table on which to read his free newspaper. But being British it would be bad form to say anything, so I don't.

The train empties as we stop at each station, and so we can stretch out as we still struggle to stay awake. From our seat we can see over the Channel where the water is the most wonderful shade of blue, and the cliffs of Cap Gris Nez as clear as if they were a handful of miles away, not the 23 or so they really are.

We get the glimpses of Dover in the later afternoon sun as the train climbs out of Buckland, then into Guston Tunnel before the train then cruises to Martin Mill. We were back. And from there its a simple run up the hill, crossing Deal Road, to home where the cats were waiting, asking where the heck we had got to. We were 5 whole minutes late for their dinner. Jools goes out for dinner, fish and chips, so we eat as darkness fell,a nd the food was so hot and fresh, it tastes like manner from heaven. Which is it, really.