autobiography

Thursday Train Tales

~ tidalscribe.com ~ 25 Comments

You can read previous train tales here.

Tuesday Train Tales

Be careful what you say, the gods are always listening.

‘Don’t come out again in this awful weather, I don’t need a lift, it’s much quicker on the train.’

It is March 2020, we are about to go into lockdown, but at Southampton Hospital it’s like entering a busy airport terminal with shops and a huge Costa Coffee and other eateries. The only precautions against the new ‘Corona Virus’ are instructions to use hand gel. We and I have been visiting my husband every day.

Now, on a miserable wet late afternoon I manage to find the right bus to the station and saunter in looking around for a window with a human being behind it, so I don’t have to bother with a ticket machine. An androgenous person in a uniform approaches, I wasn’t expecting a welcome party.

‘Can I help you?’

‘I just want a single to Bournemouth.’

‘There are no trains to Bournemouth.’

‘WHAT!’

‘Tree on the line.’

‘So when might there be a train?’

‘Not sure, do you still want to go to Bournemouth?’

‘YES.’

Luckily the platform west has a café and waiting area, now full of grumpy commuters. I am not there long when there is a sudden exodus to the exit, I follow them as they all pile onto a double decker bus, asking if it’s going to Bournemouth. No one actually says no so I rush upstairs and grab the last seat. It is dark and still raining, the windows immediately mist up. If this ‘Corona Virus’ really is so infectious, this is when I’m going to catch it.

I can’t see a thing, no idea where we are, but presumably on the motorway. After a good hour the lights of Bournemouth appear. The train journey takes only 28 minutes if you get a fast train, a fast train being one that mainly stops where I want to go.

There are many good reasons for going by train, keeping traffic off the roads, enjoying a faster smooth journey, looking at the scenery and into people’s back gardens… and of course people watching and eavesdropping.

Autumn 2024 and we are leaving the Isle of Wight. Our lovely little B&B is only minutes from the ferry. This time we have looked on line to check if the trains are running smoothly. They aren’t, it’s Sunday engineering works.

At Lymington we disembark and have plenty of time to file out to the car park and get on a comfortable replacement bus which leaves at exactly the same time as the train would have done. We enjoy a pleasant ride.

At Brockenhurst all was not going well. Confused people were hanging around outside the station waiting their turn to consult a chap with a clipboard and a phone. His jacket says ‘Bus Replacement Service Director’ or some such words. Also ‘on duty’ was a fed up South West Trains chap who wandered off at intervals and returned to make remarks such as ‘Don’t travel on a Sunday, I don’t know what they’re playing at’ and ‘Tell your friends Not to travel next Sunday.’ A young woman in a light blue tabard was trying to be helpful. These light blue people don’t seem to actually belong to the railways; at Bournemouth I had wondered if they were students on work experience as they were very young. I think they might be employed to pass on information, give stress counselling and to take the pressure off other staff.

In the meantime the Replacement Director was doing a grand job in an impossible situation with passengers going in different directions and not enough buses. He promised he would get us taxis if there were not enough bus seats. At one stage a coach turned up already full, turned round in the car park and looked like it was going straight back out again. The Director suddenly grabbed an elderly lady by the arm, frog marched her over to the coach and returned empty handed to address the crowd.

‘I know you’re all going to hate me, but that lady was traveling alone and had been waiting a while to get to Southampton, so I took an executive decision to put her in the only empty seat.’

We couldn’t argue with that and nobody did. We gradually herded ourselves into groups according to destination. A few taxis turned up and some left as The Director remembered who had been waiting longest. In the meantime more passengers drifted in or were dropped off by loved ones expecting to say farewell to them.

A black van with no windows turned up and our Bournemouth group was summoned forward, surely we were not going to be piled in the back of a van like prisoners? It turned out to be a luxury mini bus with tinted windows and curtains. There then followed a tour of the whole of the New Forest as we visited every tiny rural station and halt, seemingly only accessed by narrow winding lanes. At each one we dropped off or picked up someone. It was more than an hour before we arrived at Bournemouth station. The train journey takes 26 minutes. We got home safely, but had not even glimpsed a train all day, let alone been on one.

Did I venture on to a train ever again? Yes, but that’s for another episode…

Have you had any interesting journeys lately?

Tuesday Train Tales

~ tidalscribe.com ~ 28 Comments

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.

Sunday Stroll – Kingston Lacy

~ tidalscribe.com ~ 44 Comments

What do you think of the décor?

Perhaps the library would be more relaxing?

His and Hers, which do you prefer?

The other stairs – for the servants

While the servants are working lets go outside for a stroll.

Everybody should have an ancient Egyptian obelisk in their back garden.

https://www.nationaltrust.org.uk/visit/dorset/kingston-lacy

I’m going east for a week, see you all soon – Hopefully the train trip will be less disastrous than some of our recent trips…

Thursday Thoughts – Vive La Difference

~ tidalscribe.com ~ 34 Comments

Funny how English borrows from other languages to express thoughts and ideas. Vive la difference sounds much better than ‘long live the difference’. There are lots of differences to amuse us within the English speaking world, especially the words we use, or just local customs. I’m sure we have all had confusing moments visiting or being visited, or even reading a novel set in another country.

‘How long have I got till the shops shut?’

‘About five hours.’

‘I’ve just got to put the salt in the dishwasher’

‘WHAT!’

Which would you put on your dinner?

When I was young I was worried that I was going to get arrested for jaywalking, even though I wasn’t sure what that was. I have since realised that idea must have come from watching American cartoons, perhaps Top Cat? There is no such offence in Britain…

I was reading a novel and very involved in the plot, then the leading character, who seemed to be quite sensible, decided to have biscuits and gravy for breakfast! Had I misread that…

What oddities have you come across in your travels or reading?

Monday Madness – Holiday Highlights

~ tidalscribe.com ~ 23 Comments

Since early September I have often been AWOL from WeirdPress with assorted family staying and going on trips. Fortunately my sister is also a writer and always comes to my writers’ group when she stays, so we both did some writing. I took plenty of photos in strange places and we met plenty of weird people, so plenty of blogger fodder. In the meantime here are a few highlights. Can you guess where we might have been?

Unblogging the Drain

~ tidalscribe.com ~ 41 Comments

Are you completely bloggled? Lots of us are apparently. WordPress changes things every day, or perhaps in the middle of the night, depending on which continent you live. Writing on your phone on a bus going over potholes is not the best way to do things on line, but I can read a blog such as Sally on Smorgasbord, the Like button works, I write a comment and it is published, probably with typos because of the rattly bus and Sally has answered before I get off the bus… Back at home on my trusty desk top with big television screen I write an erudite comment on an intelligent blog, WP asks me to log in, even though I am logged in. I do that and the comment disappears… I’m sure all the blogs I follow seem to work differently and of course we cannot se what our own blogs look like to others.

If I disappear into the clouds, it might not be WordPress’s fault. My sister is over from Australia and staying with me for a month. We are going to do some trips if the trains are working… I might persuade her to write a guest blog.

What else do you do on line and wonder why – like always losing Wordblitz…

Or are you in a controlling relationship with an owl who has promised to teach you another language?

Or are you addicted to Wordle?

Tell us what is leaving you bloggled this week.

Silly Sunday – What, Where and Why?

~ tidalscribe.com ~ 22 Comments

FRIDAY

SATURDAY

Meanwhile in the wider world I missed this tiny bit of news on Friday morning and wondered why a friend messaged saying ‘hope Microsoft gets fixed so you can order your carpet.’ I wondered whatsap on earth she was talking about. Thank goodness brunch with friends was not affected and fortunately they had heard what was happening, or rather, not happening around the world.

Meanwhile at the carpet shop one doesn’t need a computer to pick a carpet and they write in a book.

And luckily you could still get hydrated for free with an amazing new invention… a water fountain.

All the rain has been good for nomowing.

When ‘news items’ pop up on your computer do you get distracted from writing your blog? Am I the only person who hasn’t heard about these folk before?

’10-foot-tall people’ discovered by archaeologists in Nevada cave – Extraordinary human remains have been found in the US state of Nevada, with some of the skeletons measuring up to 10 feet tall. Alongside their jaw-dropping size, the bodies – some of which were said to have been mummified – were found to have had red hair.

Back to the present and what lies round the corner?

After a ride on that perhaps you had better go somewhere more relaxing.

Have you been affected by the big switch off or ten foot giants?

Election Night Special

~ tidalscribe.com ~ 26 Comments

Our polling stations have just closed and a long night lies ahead for some. At my polling station the chap checking our photo ID greeted me theatrically with ‘Welcome to the brightest spot in BCP ( the very unoriginal name of our combined councils ). A dull church hall! Then he said ‘Do you like quizzes.‘ Yes I do. ‘Just one question, what is your name?‘ Luckily I passed.

Out and about all day, passing polling stations that weren’t mine, I did see a steady trickle of people heading to vote. On the news they are not allowed to mention politics so instead they kept showing pictures of dogs tied up outside polling stations. Someone on Facebook complained that dogs were not allowed in. One of my earliest memories is of standing outside a polling station in the dark with a tall policeman, the traditional Bobby with a helmet, while my parents went inside. My daughter took her boys with her to vote at 7am and they were allowed in, though probably not allowed to draw pictures on the ballot paper.

Coverage of the count has started on television, how to fill in the long hours waiting for the first count to come in? Lots of intense discussion about what happened last time and what may or may not happen this time. Excitement builds as we start seeing candidates on the stage setting their faces for the right expression when the numbers of votes are read out… Count Binface, Sensible Party 6023 votes, Janet Gogerty, Tidalscribe party 23 votes…

Will you be staying up to follow the results?

If you don’t live in the United Kingdom are you interested?

Happy 1984 Day

~ tidalscribe.com ~ 27 Comments

It is 1964 and in our little house in England we are saying goodbye to my mother’s lifelong friend and her husband. See you in 1984 the adults were saying. I did not get the joke about the year, but 1984 seemed far, far into the future. We were about to emigrate to Australia and the friends planned to visit us in 1984 when the husband retired.

Today is 1984 Day. George Orwell’s novel was published on 8th June 1949 and you can listen to it being read all day ( with breaks and different readers ) on BBC Radio 4. As you will have missed some by the time you read this, it is available on BBC Sounds. If you are elsewhere in the world I am not sure if you might come across it floating in the ether.

I first read 1984 in high school and by that time realised the year 1984 represented ‘the future’ or a future we hoped would not be realised. 1984 still seemed a long way off.

1984 came and went in a flurry of toddlers, nappies and ordinary life, though we paused to contemplate that the future had been and gone and we were having a better time than Winston Smith, well some of us. The next unimaginable future date was 2001, a new century and would it be like the Space Odyssey?

The new millennium started and we hurtled towards a quarter century without yet living on the moon. There is no longer a year number that represents the future. Has Orwell’s novel come true?

Big Brother, or at least someone is always watching. Not only are the final movements of missing people recorded on CCTV, but householders place cameras over their front door as easily as fitting a door bell. Police expect householders to hand over evidence and if you ring someone’s doorbell a disembodied voice will say ‘ Hi Joe you’re early, just walking the dog’ or ‘I’m in Scotland on holiday, can you leave the parcel with the neighbours.’

Thought police? We’ve created them ourselves, calling people out if they appear to be anti-something just because they expressed being in favour of someone or something else, or were overheard making a witty joke. In many countries of course, Thought Police are patrolling social media and journalism.

The 1984 holiday never happened. Mum’s friend’s husband had a degenerative condition that cancelled their holiday plans. You never know what’s going to happen in the future, except it inevitably becomes the past.

How far into the future are you gazing?

Monday Madness – SOS

~ tidalscribe.com ~ 32 Comments

You may think Southbourne-on-Sea a fairly benign place, no bears or lions and no murders most weeks, but danger still lurks everywhere.

You can easily fall in when you take your discarded garments to the recycling bin…

Or trip and fall into an open grave.

Mown down by a three year old or ninety three year old on their scooters or any age on E-Scooters ?

Attacked by a pack of Woolly XS dogs…

Then there is the unexpected threat from nature in spring… the other day I was walking down the road and by unfortunate coincidence passed by at the exact moment a crow was chasing other birds away from attacking a bird in the gutter; it’s baby probably, though there is no CCTV evidence. It presumed I was part of the attack and dive bombed my head twice, drawing blood, though not enough to cause a visible drama. There were no human witnesses, no photo opportunities for Facebook, one of the rare occasions when I wasn’t dodging other pedestrians with phones in their hands.

I did think of reporting this on local social media, but knowing the thousands of comments, arguments and blame that wild birds and grounded baby birds usually evoke, I did not. Looking up on the internet it seems attacks are not uncommon if humans are too close to nesting crows. Though of course it could be the start of birds taking over the world… Scarier is the fact that crows are very intelligent and remember individual humans, so perhaps I can never walk down that regular route again.

All crows in this blog are played by actors. The Corvid Community would like to point out that they never attack humans and all allegations are totally unfounded.

Have you ever been the victim of a bird attack?