Train Trip Tips

Tuesday Tiny Tale – The Long and Winding Road

At first Jill found the constant instructions irritating as it told her how to navigate the wrong way out of her home town, but the rich Scottish baritone, apparently called Callum, was quite good company. When she saw a square flash up on the screen saying ‘The Long and Winding Road’ she agreed with Callum that a playlist of travelling songs would be pleasant. She touched the square, but no music came on. Jill didn’t dare touch anything else.

When she reached the point where she usually headed for the slip road onto the motorway, Callum told her to turn in the opposite direction. Jill found herself going down a pretty road with cottages and stables, then down a lane that led under the motorway. That did not make sense as she was now on the wrong side, she didn’t want to end up in the southbound lanes.

Now Callum was sending her down a long winding road past farms, houses and factories. The only thing that made sense was the fact that she was vaguely heading north and she had caught a glimpse of motorway services. All she had to do was turn into the services, have a cup of coffee, then head out onto the motorway. Callum was getting rather irate now as she had stopped listening to him. Jill was also getting irate as there seemed no way into motorway services except to climb a fence or plough through a pine forest.

She conceded defeat when Callum directed her to a road that went back under the motorway. For a while they drove along reassuringly parallel to the motorway, then she saw a sign that said 500 yards to Greenways Garden Centre. Just as Callum was frantically telling her to take the turning on the left she spotted another sign, 25 yards to Greenways Garden Shop, Café and Emporium. It was too good an opportunity to miss, she needed a break.

Parking was easy and Callum seemed to shut up when she turned the engine off. Greenways was just the sort of place she loved. Clean spacious toilets, elegant café and interesting glimpses of plants and garden furniture. When she looked at her watch Jill was surprised it was lunchtime already.

Looking around at the other customers they were obviously here to enjoy lunch with their friends, not on an arduous journey. There were free local newspapers to read and her cheese scone was delicious. She was enjoying this part of her adventurous journey.

Jill set off to stroll round the plants, looking for a pot plant for her friend that would survive the journey. She couldn’t decide so headed past olive trees and palms to a showy gift section and spent a good while choosing for the friend and her sister’s birthday. A few steps from the till were racks of clothes, an opportunity to get a couple of tops and maybe a skirt for her stay in Scotland. Searching for changing rooms she went through a door that led her into Greenways Emporium and Antiques Centre. The sort of place Jill and her friends adored, with all sorts of thing you didn’t know you needed. The other people looking round were just as interesting as the objects on display. As Jill held up a delightful glass paperweight to examine her phone startled her,  she delved into her bag.

Tuesday Train Tales

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.

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.

Thursday Tiny Tale – Have You Stayed With Us Before?

Lottie nearly fell out of the train. The platform seemed a long way down and she had got flustered trying to work out whether her wheelie weekend case should go before or after her. At least she had arrived at the right station.

The invitation to visit had come from some vague cousin of her late husband; neither of them had many relatives and Callum had never mentioned a cousin Ruth. She had been lurking on the last page of his old address book, so Lottie had added her to the list of people to write and inform of her husband’s sudden death. There was no way of knowing if she was still living at the same address near Peterborough or even if she was still alive, so Lottie was surprised to soon receive a reply and an invitation to visit. Her writer’s mind suspected an ulterior motive, did they assume she was a rich widow? But her author’s mind also thought Ruth’s family could provide excellent inspiration for her writing. She had been relieved to hear the large blended family had no room for her to stay in comfort and had booked the recommended local posh hotel.

Lottie checked her phone again. The latest of several text messages said Si would pick her up at the front of the little station in five minutes. No other passengers were loitering looking out for lifts so presumably he would find her. When she saw a young man jump out of a scruffy white van she wished she had taken a taxi.

Her case twisted sideways as she stepped off the curb. Husbands were so useful for dealing with luggage.

Si quickly appeared at her side.

He picked the case up with ease and slung it into the back of the van, setting a dog barking. Lottie winced. Si led her to the passenger door.

Lottie hoped he didn’t think she was as old as his grandmother.

He swept crisp packets off the seat and made an attempt to move empty water bottles and drink cans out of the way of her feet. A larger fury head suddenly appeared between the seats. Lottie hastily moved her right arm away from the drooling mouth.

Lottie shuddered.

They swung out of the car park at full speed and hurtled through featureless streets till they pulled up at a straggling building that could be a pub, a hotel or an office block. Si left her to clamber out while he fetched her case and let Brutus out.

He strode up to the glass doors and Lottie hoped he would leave her at the steps to regain her composure.

A young woman behind the desk smiled then rattled off some questions by rote. ‘Have you stayed with us before? What was your name? Is it just yourself staying? Would you like to book breakfast, any allergies?’

Lottie supposed this was what it would be like, going on holiday by oneself. She didn’t count this as a holiday and hoped she looked like she was away on business. Lottie realised the girl was still talking and handing her a blank rectangle of white plastic.

For security, just swipe it over the lock, the door is a bit heavy, fire door.. Through the double doors, turn left and you’ll see the lift, room 424.’

The phone on the desk rang and the girl answered before Lottie had a chance to say she didn’t like lifts. She reminded herself she was a successful author who had stayed in hotels for conferences, but Callum had always come along as well.

She pulled her shoulders back and tried to look blasé as other guests sauntered past. In the lift she pressed the button for the fourth floor, held her breath and closed her eyes. Stepping out she was confronted by three doors with room numbers and selected 413-429. She entered a dark corridor, squeezing past a trolley full of sheets and toiletries and cups. 414, 415… the corridor took a sharp turn and became darker and narrower. 419, 420… she was confronted by a set of steps and another corner. How would she ever find her way out again.

Once more she held her breath as she pressed the plastic card against the lock. On the second try there was a flash of green light and with great difficulty she pushed the door open, tripping over the case as she squeezed through, the door was determined to slam shut.

Inside, the décor was the latest in interior trends, grey. Lottie thought longingly of her little cottage, then reprimanded herself. Ladies her age were still out reporting in terrible war zones so she should cope with this weekend. She opened the note, wondering where or when she was actually going to meet Ruth.

Silly Saturday – Strange Strollings

Going for a walk is all many of us are allowed to do in lockdown and a change of scenery is always good. The photos are courtesy of my sister in Australia.

Time for a walk.

Is it far?

I think we have missed the train.

Neighbour’s rockery is looking good.

Which way in?

Better Go before we leave.

Lucky we got a lift back.

Au Revoir or Adieu?

Whether you jet set on business or love going on cruises, you can’t have failed to notice there are more hazards to travel lately. Your cruise ship may weigh anchor and keep all the passengers hostage – in quarantine because of Coronavirus, which we now have to call Covid19, though that doesn’t slip as easily off the tongue. If you’re lucky you may get to have your own videoblog as self appointed spokesman to your national television channel and the folk back home. If you’re unlucky you will have a cabin without a balcony, a government that will not evacuate you and test positive for the virus.

Queen Mary copy
Is flying any better? You may not be allowed on the plane if you have a temperature, you may not be allowed off the plane until you can be hermetically sealed and sent off to a quarantine centre; though that could be the start of a pleasant fortnight’s holiday if a nice hotel has been commandeered. World wide plague is not the only hazard for fliers. Storms hurling themselves across the Atlantic to Europe have caused mass cancellation of flights, but that is better than the Ryanair passengers on a flight from Prague, that in hindsight should have been cancelled. Thrice, pilots attempted to land at Bournemouth Airport as passengers screamed and hyperventilated. They abandoned the attempt and with petrol running low were diverted to Brussels from whence they returned to Prague…

6
Although I hardly ever go anywhere outside this kingdom I can give advice on ocean liners and airliners. Cyberson 2, builder and pyrotechnics expert, has often worked at Southampton, sending up fireworks to farewell passengers on their trip of a lifetime, or often their twentieth or perhaps their last… The first time he worked there, one of the regular workers on the docks described the arrival of an ocean liner ‘The first thing that happens, they bring all the bodies off.’ Whether this is due to the age of the passengers, the vast amount of food provided or terminal boredom, I cannot say, but it sounds like a good way to go. Perhaps if you pay extra you can have a burial at sea. My longest voyage was on ‘The Pride of Bilbao’ from Portsmouth to Bilbao and back again on an off season excursion, where the only hazard was the live entertainment.

5
Storm Dennis was not the only problem at Heathrow Airport on Sunday as ‘technical issues’ created chaos. Whiteboards, marker pens and extra staff were drafted in to ensure chaos continued. When I worked at Heathrow I won’t pretend I was not occasionally envious of passengers jetting off somewhere exotic, but mostly I was glad I could go home and would always advise DON’T even THINK of flying at Easter or Christmas. One Christmas Eve, working in Singapore Lounge, the evening flight was delayed, putting Christmas on hold in Singapore and Australia for those who celebrated it. I cringed as a young colleague said in a loud voice in front of the passengers ‘That’s ALL I need.’ We would be late finishing, but she only had to get home to Osterley Park and none of us were going to miss Christmas.

DSCN4007
Singapore Airlines treated their customers with oriental respect and had letters printed out and delivered to them explaining delays. When we worked in British Airways lounges catering staff were left to soothe disgruntled passengers. The huge lounge in Terminal 1 catered for the many short haul flights, very different from the serene atmosphere of quieter business lounges. There was an endless  surge of passengers, the buffet bars constantly replenished, platters of sandwiches devoured instantly. I only worked there a couple of times, but one weekend a story came from our colleagues. There was a strike on; passengers kept coming in, but none went out. Then the British Airways staff abandoned the desk leaving the catering staff to deal with the ever increasing braying mob; in the end they called the police.

DSC_7972

What were your worst travel experiences? You can tell us about your good journeys, but that might not be so amusing…

Sense of Direction

DSCN0516The first time we went to the cathedral city of Salisbury, Wiltshire we couldn’t find the cathedral. The spire, at 123m from ground level, is the tallest in Britain, visible for miles around and we couldn’t see it from the main square. After wandering around we finally found the signs. We often go to Salisbury, but it is one of many places where I can easily lose my sense of direction. There are five park and ride sites, all completely free at present, to encourage visitors back to Salisbury after the novichok poisoning. We usually go to the one on our route into Salisbury, but one time, against my better judgement, Cyberspouse suggested we go to the main car park near the supermarket. On arrival I was quick to point out how expensive our visit was going to be. We have a purse in the glove box that my Australian sister-in-law gave us, which is made from a kangaroo’s testical; we can get a lot of coins in it and I always put my silver change in. I poured ten, twenty and fifty pence pieces into the machine, but just before we had clocked up the right amount it stopped working. Money gone and no ticket, but at that moment, as if by magic, a car park attendant appeared at my shoulder. We had put so much money in we had blocked up his machine. He unlocked it and the money poured into our hands – we then put pound coins in and got our ticket. Setting off from that car park I had no idea where we were in relation to the Salisbury I knew.

DSCN0506

On our most recent visit we arrived from a different direction and used a different park and ride. The pleasant bus ride brought us to a bus stop in a road where I couldn’t get my bearings. Luckily Cyberspouse has an excellent sense of direction – I did read recently that men have better spatial awareness, so that might explain it. I then worried what would happen if we got on the wrong park and ride bus, the buses all look the same and the park and ride sites probably look similar. Imagine searching for your car, not realising you were at the wrong place and with no hope of getting to the right park and ride because you had caught the last bus of the day.

Read more about Salisbury in last year’s blog.

https://tidalscribe.wordpress.com/2018/09/19/secret-salisbury-september-staycation-part-one

DSCN1280

There are more ways of arriving in Southampton than most cities; by ocean liner from abroad, by ferry across Southampton Water, by train, by bus and by car and each arrival presents a completely different view of the city. In my mind I can never put the parts together. The first time we drove there we went into the West Quay shopping centre car park at ground level and somehow walked out onto the seventh floor of the shops.

DSCN0717

Big shopping centres always present a challenge to those lacking a sense of direction; how to find the way out to the bus station, which level takes you to the high street, will you ever find your way out of John Lewis and where on earth did you leave your car. In Southampton my best landmark is the towering blue and yellowness of Ikea. The restaurant provides an excellent view of the ships and if you came by ferry it is a short walk away. Of course Ikea itself is famous for leaving customers feeling they will never see their own home again, as they wend their way through endless happy home room lay outs.

Take the ferry to Southampton here…

https://tidalscribe.wordpress.com/2019/02/09/silly-saturday-how-to-cheat-at-travel

Have you got a good sense of direction?

The third novel in my trilogy is partly set in Wiltshire and Salisbury.

Silly Saturday – Finding The End of The Rainbow

Reginald loved painting

Adored colours

Inspired by what he saw

Never stopped trying to create

Beautiful pictures

Of all the colours in the

World

34047741_2109663559063423_8996478105837109248_n

 

RED ladies dancing gracefully

ORANGE  shades of autumn trees

YELLOW downy hair of his baby son

GREEN turbulent seascapes

BLUE skies with Constable clouds

INDIGO flowers in his garden

VIOLET vivacious surrealist shapes

33163208_2095485027147943_4325188043104321536_o

 

 

Robert took photographs

Anytime, anywhere, anything

Integrated technology

New digital camera

Beautiful images

Of the real and unreal

Wonderful colours created by the computer

Salisbury Cathedral

RED balloons in the sky

ORANGE flowers magnified

YELLOW striped bumblebees

GREEN rolling hills and fields

BLUE racing cars

INDIGO  eyes of lovely ladies

VIOLET twilit skies

141.jpg

 

 

Reginald regularly exhibited

At shows and displays

In galleries and art rooms, but

No one bought a single scene

Browsing, gazing, frowning, smiling, leaving. If

Only, thought Reginald, I could see the

World and find more colours.

 

23

Paint the perfect picture, try a new

Approach

Investigate

New colours

Try to find THE END OF THE RAINBOW

39982808_671374146565963_2316413924456529920_n

 

 

Photos are the way, said Robert

Acquire a computer, find a new

Interest, begged his wife,

Never leave us, but Reginald

Took his leave

39994524_255241998458251_2849224314245349376_n

RED desserts he crossed

ORANGE robed monks he met

YELLOW sunrises beckoned him

GREEN turbulent seas carried him towards the horizon

BLUE southern skies warmed him

INDIGO light on the mountain top dazzled him

VIOLET flower that bloomed once in a lifetime, pierced his heart, but still he

30546417_10212842451869737_1397495450_o

Roamed on and on

Around the world

Into the wilderness

Never giving up hope of finding

Better colours

On the other side of the sky

Wondering if the end of the arc lay there

35749717_2133314443365001_3886824946227216384_n

RED tinted clouds

ORANGE sun

YELLOW rays

GREEN waters

BLUE raindrops

IDIGO mist

VIOLET shimmer

36963934_2172002646162847_1359408250704887808_n

Pausing, praying

Reginald asked for

Insight

Saw his

Maker, who said

30762902_2059150577448055_5197034917787074560_n

Remain still

Avert your eyes, do not go

Into the colours, But

Nearer he went

Brighter and brighter

Onwards in

Wonder

 

36963934_2172002646162847_1359408250704887808_n

Gazing at the shimmering spot where the

Rainbow burned into the

Earth, darkness fell on his soul and he saw a

Yawning chasm where all was GREY

39999727_519917918460013_5443438046257086464_n

God spoke to

Reginald. I showed you all the colours of the

Earth, but still you asked for more. Go

Yonder and see no more.

29249591_2016001618429618_8742673610549755904_n