We start on the bridge. 4th carriage, 1st set of doors, positioned just to the right in the nook between the doors and the luggage rack. The doors rumble as they slide shut, then we're off, down the slope and almost immediately into the next station. White tiles, hints of previous ownerships dotted along the platform. Doors open, doors close, the number of people on the train stays the same. Uphill start this time, then a curve to the left as we emerge into the 3rd station, old brickwork transitioning into brand new stark white tiles. Adverts for jewellers, warnings about fare evasion. More significant interchange here, the Underground both attracting and expelling passengers. We sit here for a couple of minutes, unnecessary time built into an inflated timetable, but finally the doors shut for a third time and we're moving again. We pass under the Underground, then through successive tunnels, daylight illuminating the carriage for brief moments. After the third stretch of darkness, we rumble into the past. "DO NOT ALIGHT HERE", years old adverts, disused platforms littered with the detritus of abandonment. Some passengers take this as their cue to ready themselves, as we curve left, then right, screeching into the present, and the future. We stop opposite the escalators, the doors open and I'm off, marching away to make a tight connection.
The Thameslink Core. 30 years in the making.
Friday 12 May 2017
Sunday 7 May 2017
The Rail Replacement Bus
It's Sunday. I have to go to work. Normally this would be simple; turn up at the station, get on a train, arrive at destination.
But not today. Today engineering work closed a section of line, including my station, and so I had to get up half an hour earlier to then catch a bus that dropped me off at a station not quite in the middle of nowhere, but not far off. So much time had been allotted for our journey to the station that we ended up waiting another 20 minutes for the onward train to London. Luckily, given this journey took place at 7am on a Sunday morning traffic was not an issue, and neither was the amount of passengers.
And yet I don't mind rail replacement buses. I certainly don't have the level of vitriol some people reserve for them. Perhaps it's because I don't have to take them regularly, perhaps it's because I like taking buses in general, perhaps it's because it's a little bit of a break from the norm; whatever it is, I don't descend into frothing rage whenever I see my journey will be made partly by bus rather than train. Call me mad, call me odd, call me maybe (no wait don't do that); I like public transport too much to be angry at a bus.
But not today. Today engineering work closed a section of line, including my station, and so I had to get up half an hour earlier to then catch a bus that dropped me off at a station not quite in the middle of nowhere, but not far off. So much time had been allotted for our journey to the station that we ended up waiting another 20 minutes for the onward train to London. Luckily, given this journey took place at 7am on a Sunday morning traffic was not an issue, and neither was the amount of passengers.
And yet I don't mind rail replacement buses. I certainly don't have the level of vitriol some people reserve for them. Perhaps it's because I don't have to take them regularly, perhaps it's because I like taking buses in general, perhaps it's because it's a little bit of a break from the norm; whatever it is, I don't descend into frothing rage whenever I see my journey will be made partly by bus rather than train. Call me mad, call me odd, call me maybe (no wait don't do that); I like public transport too much to be angry at a bus.
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