National Railway Museum's You Tube Channel
via youtube.com
Brief Encounters at the NRM - I'll be taking my grandson to see this at the weekend.
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The British Rail Network
Trains. In terms of our modern technological achievements they are as
about as complex as flip flops. Big lumbering engines pulling big
lumbering coaches along hard unyielding metal tracks.
They've been around for years - and they are, for most young people
the means of transport they use most often to travel the length and
bredth of this fine little isle. That is why it is so emintely
perplexing that we've never seemed to be able to get the trains right.
As I write this I am sat on the 7.20 from London Euston to Manchester
Piccadilly. Only I wanted to be on the 7.02 train. But arriving at
Euston I was confronted by a queue at the ticket office so vast and
snaking that I was advised it would take at least 30 minutes and that
I was best off using the automatic machines, of which there are dozens.
I've used these machines a bajillion times before usually relatively
painlessly - tonight that was to change, the first one wouldn't take my
card, the second would only accept the exact change, the third, and
this was the kicker, couldn't even find my destination! Finally I get
one that works, it prints out my tickets - but there's nothing on
them, not a scratch of ink. I go to the information desk.
"Am sorry sir I cannot reissue you a ticket."
"Well look, i've just bought a ticket from one of your machines and
there's nothing on it. I won't be able to travel with a blank ticket,
will I?"
"Da macheena did not preent anyting on yo'owa teekat?"
"No."
"Dat's impossible."
"If it's impossible how have I got these blank tickets?"
"You must have taken them from de teekat desk."
"Sorry - so not only are you not going to give me another ticket, but
you're accusing me of stealing blank tickets too?"
"Sir dat is dee only way you could have got dese blank tickets."
By this point she's holding my £66 blank tickets.
"Can I speak to your manager please."
"I am dee supervisor."
"Well can I speak to your supervisor please."
"...no, I am calling security."
"Why?"
"Because you have stolen dese blank teekats from dee teekat desk."
At this point a man in his 70s appears behind me.
"Excuse me, I'm awfully sorry I just bought a ticket from the ticket
machine and it's not printed anything on it."
My saviour - I think - I can finally get this fucking mess sorted.
"Dat is impossible Sir."
I can't believe my ears.
"Please," I ask "get me your manager immediately."
After humphing and pumphing for a bit a manager is finally uncovered.
"Oh yeah no problems, we've been having problems with that machine all
day." And prints two tickets.
I want to stay I want to argue and shout, but I'm so pathetically
grateful I just say thanks and then looking at my watch, seeing that
it's 6.58 think 'brilliant I'm going to make it'.
Like a man mad I dive through the station to the platform only to be
told that the platform door shuts three minutes before the train sets
off. I'm pleading again, just let me through, I can get on, I've got a
ticket, it'll take two seconds - please.
"No."
Here's what I want to know: What kind of spiteful, vindictive train
operator would prevent you from getting on a train, if you're in time
and have a valid ticket?
It's beauractic shit like this that causes killing sprees.
I just don't get it. I don't.
Here's my top 5 things wrong with British Train:
1. The price: £66 for a return from London to Manchester is
preposterous.
2. The trains - dank old, over hot, uncomfy shit-wagons.
3. The emty first class carriages on every Virgin train.
4. The prices in train station shops.
5. How reliable they are. If they're not striking they're late if
they're not late they're cancelled, if they're not cancelled they're
full to the fixings with stinking football hooligans.
The trains. Bollocks.
