It's January. A new year and another Dear Russian Conference. So I was off to Norwich for a few days. After a successful conference I was looking forward to several hours of pleasant rail travel back to Scotland. I had booked first class tickets - a little bit more expensive but well worth it for a long journey.
The journey was in three parts; Norwich to Peterborough, Peterborough to Edinburgh, then Edinburgh to home. A long day but hopefully a relaxing one, I thought! I should have known as soon as I saw on the departures board at Norwich station that my first train had been cancelled (no explanation as to why) that things were not going to go to plan. However, I knew I had about an hour to wait for my connection at Peterborough so there had to be a way to get there in time. One train to Ely followed by another to Peterborough got me there with some time to spare. It had been a little bit stressful and it wasn't first class but I'm back on track, I thought to myself, with a little smile at the pun!
On arrival at Platform 4, the departure board was showing my connection to Edinburgh as 'Delayed'. Oh bother! But, again, I had some leeway in the schedule and should hopefully manage to make the final connection. The train was 15 minutes delayed, I was informed, and it was hoped that the lost time could be made up and that arrival in Edinburgh was expected to be delayed by only 4 minutes. Great! Sit down to wait for the train and anticipate the comfort and service of first class.
Every time I checked the departure board the 'delayed' time was getting longer until it was 30 minutes late. Still, no worries. They were confident they could make the time up as the train travelled north. We finally boarded 35 minutes late but the service was prompt and pleasant. 'Cup of tea or coffee, madam?' Quickly followed by 'Something to drink, madam?' and then, 'Can I take your order, madam?' One cup of tea, bottle of water, glass of red wine and a cheese and onion tartlet later and I am a happy traveller again.
All being well, I should still have 15 minutes to make my connection at Edinburgh and, with modern technology, I could check online to see which platform I would be arriving on and which to run to for my connection. Time to relax and read my book.
Approaching York, when the steward announced that the person who had deposited a substantial amount of luggage in the guards van should now make his way to the rear of the train in order to speed up his exit at that station, I began to get an uneasy feeling that the 'catch-up' wasn't going entirely to plan. It was looking increasingly likely that sprinting could be involved in Edinburgh and, as is well known, I was built for comfort, not speed. Sigh.
Even the staff eventually gave up on the pretext that the Aberdeen connection could be met and, as we approached Edinburgh, we were advised to move two carriages back in order to have a better chance of clearing the platform and getting to our connections. I know Edinburgh station fairly well and knew immediately we came in that the carriage I was now in, having moved as instructed, was going to overshoot the platform exit. I, of course, was not the only traveller trying to make a connection so there was a bit of jostling at the carriage door as we all tried to get off and gallop up the platform. As I rounded the end of the platform onto the main concourse I saw my train. I ran up to the turnstiles just as it began to move away. I swore. Loudly. A guard turned slowly around and asked, 'Aberdeen train?' 'Yes!' 'You've missed it' he added, unnecessarily. I swore, again loudly.
I knew there wasn't another train to Aberdeen so I wandered into the ticket office to see what plans they had in store for getting me to my destination. It was definitely their fault I hadn't made the connection. Ticket office lady sent me to Customer Services man who tried to send me back to Ticket office lady. No, not happening!
After a few phone calls and a summoning of someone with authority, I was dispatched to the Dundee train and from there I would be given a taxi to get me home. Said Dundee train, of course, had no first class carriage and decided to cross the Kingdom of Fife at snail-speed and call at every one-horse town on the way. I eventually crossed the Tay Bridge at 11.45 p.m. (which should have been the time I was getting home!) I was met on the platform by a surly Dundonian who would show me to my taxi which would take me to Stonehaven Station. I explained that was not suitable as I had no way of getting home from the station as it would be nearly one o' clock in the morning by that time. 'It's only station to station we do', he grumpily informed me. No use arguing with someone who doesn't have the wit or authority to deal with it so I just asked the taxi driver directly to drop me at home. There was another passenger for Aberdeen so we would be passing home anyway and was no farther out of the way than going into Stonehaven station.
It had been a long and unexpected journey but I finally arrived home at 1.00 a.m. I'm taking the day off to recover! Oh, and write a letter of complaint!
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