Tuesday 27th August 2109

Oddly enough, a one hour train journey to London and then a seven hour one from London to Aberdeen would take about the same time as flying, when you take into account getting to Heathrow, getting there two hours before the flight then travelling from the airport into Aberdeen.

Well, that's my excuse. And would work out no cheaper flying, either.

And I could sit and look out the window for seven hours, as the countryside and cities rolled by.

What's not to like?

However, upgrading to first class was going to be eye-watering, and not something the company could pay for, and anyway I had a reserved seat, so, should not be too bad.

But before getting on the train north, I had to get into London.

And get up.

So, another fine late summer morning dawned. It is now only half light at half five, and the lights in the kitchen need to be on to avoid standing on a cat. And the strip lights are bright and harsh.

But the cats are fed, and we have coffee.

But time slips away, and if I am to catch the quarter to seven train, we need to get moving. So we do. And by half past, we are sat in the car with all tasks completed and bags loaded.

At Priory Station, I wait on the platform with the commuters, for the fast train up to London to arrive. It is at least cool and still on the platform.

The train pulls in, as usual, and I get on. Always a wise move, taking up my position on the left hand side of the train. But this is just the starter for a day of train travel. And I get to travel all the way to St Pancras, having two hours to while away before the great trip north begins.

So, I go for breakfast; a bacon and cheese roll and coffee. The go to M&S to buy lunch, before walking over to Kings Cross to do some people watching.

And then go onto the platforms to watch the trains come and go. And watch more people.

My knowldge of traction lead me to believe I would be travelling on a diesel HST, and there just being the one of those, at platform 3, I wait at the end to see if I was right.

I watch a porter take an old gentleman in a wheelchair to the train,s i ask her if this was the Aberdeen train. It was, so I walk to the end of the train, to coach B, find my seat and I have the whole carriage to myself.

For two minutes.

A japanese family arrive, with suitcases like wardrobes, and were seated in three different rows. They and other passengers try to find their seats, find somewhere to stow their luggage, all in the ten minutes before the train leaves.

I sit, serine in my seat, bags in the rack above, and my carrier bag of food on my sweaty lap.

Did I mention I love train journeys?

I do.

The train leaves and trundles through Gasworks Tunnel, then through the suburbs where the train opens its regulator and gets up to 100mph, or faster.

Time drags, but I am enthralled as we go through the home counties and up into Hertfordshire, Cambridgeshire and into Lincolnshire. The landscape is flat and full of huge fields, most being harvested. Clouds of dust mark the harvesters in action.

I make a start on the big bag of pulled pork flavoured crisps.

Yummy.

Up through Peterborough, out of London and hour, Newark at the 90 minute mark, and the landscape begins to change. Rolling hills, former mines and power stations are everywhere.

I eat more crisps.

We reach York, our first stop on just under two hours.

I am looking to the left as we pass the Railway Museum, and see two steam locomotives outside. But we are soon accelerating. North we go.

We stop at Darlington, Newcastle, where I snap a view of the Tyne and bridges as we cross over, then into the wilds of Nortumberland, where the line hugs the coast and views from my side of the train are of the rocky shoreline and flat calm seas over to Lindisfarne.

But they slip by quickly, and after a brief stop in Berwick, we are into Scotland, with more coast line, though more wild and windswept, but anything but windswept on this fine summer's day.

At Edinburgh, most get off, so we can stretch out. And the train leaves Waverley through tunnels and tight curves, then up past Murrayfield and into the countryside to the famout Forth Bridge, where the line hangs a hundred metres in the air, crossing the huge forth.

From there the line still hugs the coast, but the express has become a stopping train, halting at small towns with platforms too small for everyone to have a door to get out of.

We reach Dundee, or the Tay first, crossing by a narrow and very long bridge, the remains of one that collapsed still visible on my side of the train. It was good to get across safe and sound.

From Dundee, the line headed north along the coast again, passing through Arbroath and my old friend, Montrose, where I'm sure there is a pub landlady who still holds a candle for me.

We carry on, and soo are approaching the Granite City, pulling into the fine station five minutes late, which isn't bad.

I have GSVd to way to the hotel, so walk down to the harbour, then up a sidestreet, and there it was, The Ibis.

I check in and wait for my colleague, Henrik to arrive. When he does, we meet in the lobby and walk to Brewdog for some beers and dinner.

The food was average, but the beer excellent.

I have three pints to Henrik's one, but I am quality checking them.

All pass.

And it is nine by the time i nearly finish the cheese board, with one more chilli beer to finish.

I am done. So we wander back to the hotel, take the lift to the 4th floor, and here, in Scotland, summer is humid enough to make sleep difficult.

But I manage it.