Tuesday Train Tales

~ tidalscribe.com

Be careful what you say, the gods are listening.

‘Once we get to Waterloo we’re on the home run, we can relax and have lunch.’

How many times have I stood looking at the large departures board at London Waterloo? Generations of my family commuted up to Waterloo along with hordes of fellow office workers long before working from home was thought of. The last London terminus to have steam trains, they were still running when we lived in Farnborough in the early sixties. Nothing can ever beat sitting in a train as it builds up steam and leaves the station and what fun being totally enveloped in smoke as you walk to school over the railway bridge.

Now as I stared up at the board to check train times before we sauntered off to find lunch, I wondered if it was the board or my brain that had become jumbled up. Nothing made sense, though the words cancelled and delayed seemed to feature rather a lot. I suggested we go to the information desk.

‘When is the next train for Bournemouth?’

‘No idea what’s going on, signal failure at Winchester, you best get straight on the next train.’

‘Have we got time?’

A bloke standing beside us said ‘Don’t worry, you’ve got time, I’m the driver.’

We got on the South West train and off we went, but at Southampton we stopped and didn’t start again. We sat there for a while, chatting to someone who had just flown into the country to go and see her dying sister in Bournemouth hospital. We were apparently waiting for a driver – after rail mishaps to come we soon learned that any rail problems result in drivers everywhere being in the wrong place. Each message over the Tannoy contradicted the previous one. We were told this train was terminating and we all got off. At least we could have a comfort break. Train toilets are a subject for another time, preferably when you’re not eating your dinner. Then a message of hope for some of us, the next train was for Bournemouth only, hurrah. It was a ‘Cross Country’ not conjured up especially for us, just happened to be passing through on its normal route. And what of the other poor souls who needed to go to the other stations along the way? I don’t know.

When my sister came over from Australia for a long holiday I had suggested a trip by train and ferry to the Isle of Wight as it is pleasant and easy, all went well when I did the same trip last year with my friend. Bournemouth to Brockenhurst in the New Forest, change to the dear little train that just goes back and forth to Lymington Pier then saunter on to the ferry to Yarmouth, Isle of Wight. We had booked three nights at a B&B yards from the little ferry terminal.

At Bournemouth station that morning all was chaos, car on the level crossing at Brockenhurst, how long does it take to tow a car off a railway line? All day perhaps judging by what lay ahead. The platform was full of staff, they didn’t know what was going on, but they were doing their best to keep up our morale or their own. Then a train appeared, we got on with our wheelie cases, found a seat then heard the announcement ‘This train is for Southampton only.’ We got off again.

A train did come along and we arrived at Brockenhurst where the platform was full of confused passengers wanting to go up to London or down to Weymouth. We went over to the empty platform to check if the train sitting there was for Lymington, it was and we jumped on quickly, but it didn’t move. It was waiting for a driver. We sat and sat, no more messages came.

Then thinking outside of the box I suggested we just get off the train, trek back over the bridge to the information office and ask what was going on. They had no idea and I proposed Plan B, just walk out of the station and get a taxi to Lymington Pier. Another passenger had already found one and was happy to share. I am still not convinced that this was a genuine taxi, I could see no evidence and the driver wanted cash only, £18. The other passenger was a local who needed to get back to his house in Lymington and I offered him a free ride, just glad that I always carry real money. He insisted on giving me a ten pound note, so we had made a bit of a profit. Whether or not it was a genuine taxi, he did take us to the right place. We relaxed at the little coffee shop in the tiny terminal while we waited for the ferry. The ferry is a delight, you just saunter up the gangway in minutes, climb a few stairs and sit in comfort at the front soothed by the smooth journey across the Solent.

You will have to wait to find out if we ever returned home from that trip, but if I mention we had to come back on a Sunday, some of you might guess.

28 thoughts on “Tuesday Train Tales”

  1. I started my professional career in London in the 1980s commuting from Goodge Street to Waterloo. I sort of think I remember the great train robber Buster Edwards running the flower stall outside the station.

    I love the Bourne films starring Matt Damon, but particularly enjoyed watching my old stamping ground of Waterloo station on the silver screen in the second film!

    Can’t wait to see if you get back safely…!

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  6. The last time I was on a train was in 2007. Eurostar from St Pancras to Brussels, then local train to Ghent. (Return journey three days later.) I’m pleased to say it all went very smoothly. The last time I was on a train to an English destination was from London to Harrogate in 2000, a work-related trip with the Ambulance Service. The train was filthy, the coffee and tea almost undrinkable, and on the way back we were delayed due to some kind of signal malfunction in the Midlands. I am in no rush to travel by train again anytime soon.

    Best wishes, Pete.

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    1. Hello Pete, I don’t blame you. I kept putting off going on trains when there were all those strikes and natural weather disasters. As a non driver who doesn’t like coaches I need to venture on trains to see my family. I love trains as long as they are working…

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  10. Pingback: Thursday Train Tales | Times and Tides of a Beachwriter

  11. I used to use trains a lot too when I was working and when they were good they were very very good and when they were bad they were horrid! One time I was travelling to Devon and happened to sit across from a man from Scot rail who told me that a high tide with strong wind at Dawlish, where the track runs along the sea wall, meant spray was thrown onto the train roof. It gradually seeped through and short-circuited the electrics. By then it was often in Scotland and he had to try to explain to his passengers what the problem was – they all thought it was another ‘wrong sort of snow’ excuse!

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  12. Curious as to whether the Farnborough you mention is Hants or ‘London’ which used to be Kent, Janet. 😀 Theme for a great debate in my local neck of the woods.
    Love that old expression, ‘Heavens to Murgatroid!’ Haven’t heard that in years.

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    1. Hello V it’s Farnborough in Hampshire. I have never been to the other Farnborough, but recall as a child being confused to hear there was another Farnborough! Which reminds me of when we lived in Hayes, Middlesex and my friend’s visitors from abroad ventured into London by themselves and headed back at the wrong London station, happily getting on a train for Hayes in Kent.

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  13. It reads like an adventure not for the faint of heart! So Sorry! And I am one who likes adventures, still…

    But I did love the nostalgia associated with this line: ‘ Nothing can ever beat sitting in a train as it builds up steam and leaves the station and what fun being totally enveloped in smoke as you walk to school over the railway bridge.’ 🚂

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