It started well. I arrived at the station with plenty of time to spare. I even paused for a moment to take a picture of the recently restored station clock and the bunting behind it.
Lets not mention the time on the clock.
The first thing I do when I arrive at the station is to check the service is running on time. Not today.
The information displays were out of order, and so was the ticket machine. Good job I booked in advance.
Luckily enough, the trains were running on time.
Took a photo of the lineup of rusty trains.
At the next stop I checked the status of the Euston Train.
These are not very good images, its the way the LEDs cycle, and the camera catches it mid refresh. Nothing can be done about it. But this was the point at which I learned that the train was running in reverse. No big deal, just means that the buffet car is in the opposite direction to normal. And also that the train was formed of 9 coaches. Two less than necessary.
When I say two less than necessary, I mean two less than than the absolute bare minimum. The Glasgow – Euston never runs empty. Very rarely is it even comfortably loaded, but today, its chocka.
The 07:41 Euston arrived on time, with a dead bird stuck in the front panel. I remarked about such a thing in my previous post, I wasn’t expecting to see one again so soon. I watched the coaches pass me as it slowed to a halt. I could see through the window that it was already full, but I boarded at coach C, the unreserved carriage, and looked for a seat. There was none.
I tried coach D and other passengers were already leaving having found nowhere to sit. Fortunately, there was a seat in the vestibule. One of those fold down seats outside the toilet. So I sat, and resigned myself to two and a half hours of farty sounds and whiffs coming from the toilet.
The 07:41 to Euston doesn’t get any less busy as it heads south. You get the occasional local passenger travelling between the northern towns, but for every one that gets off, ten more get on. By Wigan, I am very grateful for my folding seat, as the number of standees about me grows.
As we depart Wigan for Warrington, standing passengers still squeeze by in search of a seat, and then squeeze by again to try the other end of train.
The train slows for Warrington.
No window seat on this journey. Just a panel to stare at, or the carpet.
The arse of it is that because hotels in London are more expensive than the price of a return ticket, I will be doing this again tomorrow. I can usually pick up a two star hotel for somewhere between 50 and a 100 notes, but in the last few weeks, even the flea ridden favourites are asking 250, I can’t justify that. It is what it is.
Hoards pass in search of seats again. Joined at Warrington. They pass again five minutes later, heading the other way.
Its only half past eight. I’ve been on board for almost an hour, perched on the edge of a folding seat, a folding sideways facing seat. Buffetted, side to side, left to right, front to back. Feeling every joint in rails, every point, every flaw. And every curve is met with a lean, as the tilting mechanism, designed to improve passenger comfort, just puts every passing butt in my face. Back begin begins to ache, numbness spreads from the phalanges to the ligaments.
Its gonna be a long ride.
The Way Back Home is Always Long…
Coming back wasn’t looking too bad. I have an app that tells me the operational details about the train service. Such as what platform it will depart from before its announced at the station, and how many carriages the train has.
This app was telling me that the half past five train will be short, and therefore busy. So despite the temperature being a toasty 29 degrees in Camden, that is a full degree hotter than Lanzarote right now, I decided to skip the very inviting pubs and just go straight for my train for the half four departure.
We departed twenty five minutes late. Apparently we had to wait for a driver to arrive on a late running service. No problem. I had a seat. And the air conditioning was working. No biggy.
We finally departed at 16:55 and all seemed well. I had a forward facing seat to myself, and the English countryside beamed in the summer heat. Then, at 17:25, the Train Manager announced that this train would be terminating at Preston because of a fault with electrification between Motherwell and Glasgow.
When it comes to railway information, I can be quite resourceful, and the wires being down at Glasgow is a major incident that would impact my onward journey.
There was no major disruption at Glasgow. I had to look through the list of cleared disruptions to find that the incident in question was already cleared.
At 17:56 it was announced that the 18:53 from Preston was being held for us. So the cancellation has nothing to do with the electrical fault. The electrical fault was already cleared before this train was cancelled. Why must they lie?
Train crew. If I am being generous, it could be because of Train Crew. Electrical issues near Glasgow might have caused a train to be delayed, meaning that the planned crew was not available, and so the train had to be cancelled, but the cancellation is because there was no crew, not because of the electrical fault. These things happen, there should always be a reserve crew.
A little while later we were assured that all would be fine because the 18:53 from Preston was being held for us, and it would be a simple transfer across the platform when we arrived. So all was good.
The 18:53 left Preston at 19:15. Thirty minutes before we arrived. On the platform opposite us was the Lumo service to Stirling, on which our tickets were not valid. From Preston, there are a lot of trains to Glasgow for the onward passenges, and there was a Barrow in Furness service waiting for me at the opposite end of the station, I was back in Lancaster for ten past eight.
Apart from being late, and cancelled, the Journey from Euston was pleasant enough.
Duggan's Dig 
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