Saturday 2nd September 2017

Only the second day of the month and yet already the 10th blog of the month. This was due to the backlog of stuff from the holiday, of course, but still. I'm sure some of you will be caught up soon.

And with some luck, it might be that we have finally broke the back of the jetlag monster, even if did Jools had to shake me awake when the alarm went off at half six on Saturday morning. An alarm as we had a big day out in that London, as I had a date with some trains.

We had an hour to get out of the house, but maybe we were out of practice with deadlines, but we had ten minutes to have a shower, get dressed and out to the station. We make it, but it did mean trying shoelaces on the platform as the train glides in. We get on and there is a mild panic on my part as my usual preferred seats were all taken. But Jools forces me into a quick choice of that was left before I went into a neighbouring carriage. We are settled down and the train traveling down the hill to Guston Tunnel, then out the other side with Dover laid out on the left side of the train, although it is on my right as I am facing backwards. Grrrr.

I realise its been some time since I went up to London on the train, maybe two month. So I enjoy the views out of the window, and am happy enough doing that, as always marking off the familiar landmarks of the trip as we get nearer to London. Under the Thames, into Essex, through Thurrock to Dagenham and into the long tunnel to Stratford and London.

We had eaten some fruit before leaving home, but it it now being 90 minutes later, we decide to forage for a 2nd breakfast, and find a place in Kings Cross station (in fact we find several places) so plump for bacon butties and croissants. Which is like both of our weekend breakfasts in one sitting. We sit at the balcony, looking at the travelers waiting on the concourse below for their train to be called.

We could have gotten the tube and/or gone by rail, but instead the easiest option was to get a taxi, give him the postcode and take us to Old Oak Common.

He did make us laugh by searing before he had left the station forecourt, and whilst driving along Euston Road suggested to Jools a day out in Oxford would be more fulfilling than a day at a rail depot. He even offered a cheap deal, but JOols said the depot would be fine.

We go along Euston Road, past Baker Street and Paddington Station then up the Westway with Clash songs playing in my head. As you do.

We turn off, go through some housing, and then cross under one railway line, and another, then we see the queue. And it goes on.

And on.

And on.

The driver drops us off at the end of it, so after paying we jump out and join it, there is some ten minutes or so before opening, we hoped to be at the front by lunchtime. But as it happens, once the line began to move, it moved quickly, and withing 20 minutes we were at the front, having our tickets scanned and bags searched then into the site.

And laid out on the sidings were steam and diesel locomotives dating back to the early 20th century. SOme of the steam ones were in steam, or at least fires had been lit. As many people were not yet in the site, I rush round getting the shots I wanted before there would be too crowded to get them. 5 of the six remaining class 50 locomotives had been lined up side by side, so try to get them head on, but was unable to without people, but I was able to look along the noses of the locos, and manage to get a few shots without people.

Elsewhere, people we lining up to get on the footplates or in the cabs. I am happy wandering around, snapping away.

I snap most of the locos, including the class 14 and the bubble car, and for some reason 70013 was there. As I have said before, Oliver was such a part of my childlife at Bressingham, seeing it at any time is like meeting an old friend, and from being restricted to walking pace on a quarter mile stretch of track in Norfolk, now it is main line certified again. She hisses quietly and there is a sign not to touch her hot pipes. Fnar.

We had also booked a tour round the new Crossrail maintenance sheds. Crossrail is a new heavy rail line stretching from Shenfield in Essex to REading in the west, passing under central LOndon, and one of the main depots and a new station will be here at Old Oak Common. So, a tour round the nearly finished sheds will be interesting, no?

IN fact was, and the logistics of maintaining a fleet of 12 car trains, cleaning them, turning their wheels when needed and so on calls for some wonderful engineering solutions; like a jack that can lift the entire train, a place for dropping the bogies off the carriages, and a deep cleaning facility to remove graffiti.

They even take us up on the roof, with views over the lines leading to the facility and the lies to the side where the open day was taking place. They ply us with free tea, coffee and biscuits before we leave, so that by the time we do walk back out the facility and hand in our day glo tabards it is getting near to one. I could snap more locos and crowds, but I am done as the sun shines from a clear blue sky and it really is hot enough just to find a pub beside a canal and spend the rest of the day sipping IPA.

But in the end we decide to return home. By means of public transport. But that is not to mean that on the way to Willesden Junction I wasn't looking for a passing taxi to flag down to whisk us to St Pancras. At the station we have a three minute wait for a train to take us to Euston, and from there an amble down Euston Road to St Pancras.

We did pause for pasty and a drink at Euston, sitting outside the station as we did with Tony that May evening before we caught the sleeper to Scotland in May. It was just as busy, with many confused looking people trying to work out which way to go, or how to find their family and/or friends.

At St Pancras I decide it was time to roadtest the Champagne Bar under the trainshed. I place an order at the bar for a glass of Brut and a glass of Rose, and am told that they will be brought over. 20 minutes and we still do not have our drinks.

They do arrive, in time for us to bolt them so we could catch our train. And the price? You would not believe. And they added a 10% service charge to the bill anyway! Never again, and really shouldn't have done in the first place.

We walk to the train and get seats on the right hand side, facing forwards.

At Stratford a young family gets on and refuses an airline style seat, saying loudly she would prefer seats at a table. Two American tourists from California give up their seats for her and her young child, she then spends ten minutes on Facebook, and inbetween looking at updates tells her young son to shut up or stay still. I try to understand, maybe it was the end of a long day.

They get off at Dover, when silence

descends on the carriage once again. We are treated to the views across the rooftops as the train meanders towards Guston Tunnel, where darkness would envelop s until we would be on the downward run into Martin Mill. We go to the car and drive up the hill home, where there was three hungry cats waiting for us, despite it being only four. We feed them, then break out the magnums, so we can sit in the back garden, soaking in the rays now that we were home.

We have insalata for dinner, with much buttered fresh bread to soak up the olive oil and balsamic vinegar. We can listen to Huey as we eat, and all seems well with the world, as darkness falls outside and we have reached the end of another day. And survived to tell the tale.