I don’t like to whinge about things, but over the past year (since I gave up my car) I’ve been gradually getting more and more pissed off with the state of the nations trains. Specifically, between Manchester and anywhere that isn’t London.
About one in three journeys end up in the sort of farce I had to put up with for both legs of my trip to Nottingham, which I’ll shortly detail.
All of this has convinced me that I need to get a car again. Imagine the weekend I could have had if I’d been able to travel door to door, on my own terms, with as much luggage as I’d like.
I paid £35 for the priviledge too!
Outbound Journey
I looked on the internet for train times and decided that, since the direct route took close to two hours, that I wouldn’t be able to make the pre-party lunch that’d been planned in Nottingham. I set off from home at 1pm.
I arrived at Picadilly at 150pm, for my 225 train. I was early so that I could go and buy some allergy tablets (since they own kittens), some wine and a magazine, comfortably in time to make the train.
Only there wasn’t a 225 train, there was a 243 train, thus entailing an extra 20 minute wait. Not too bad I thought, but it was just a pre-cursor for what was to follow.
Upon arriving in Sheffield and having sat there for a few minutes (whilst people got off, got on) the train announcer came on and told us that we’d all have to swap with people on the Liverpool bound train. Upon leaving our current train it became evident that our train had, in fact, come into the wrong platform and now could only leave in a westerly direction, hence our shift.
Now this cost us an extra 15-20 minutes or so, and involved me having to lug around my extremely precariously packed back (2 bottles of wine, 1 bottle of Leffe and wayne & Aneta’s wedding gifts, which were quite large.) and sitting around for ages whilst they sorted the train out.
Finally the train marches out on it’s trip south, only to stop, shortly before heading into Langley Mill. By this point I’d already called Pete to let him know I’d be at the station around 430pm, a generous estimate that the stopped train duly corrected by having the front carriage break down, enabling us to complete the journey at a steady 10-15mph. (I’m not joking, or emphising here, it really was this slow).
Further, at 500PM some numpty pulled the emergency stop chord, allowing for a further delay.
I arrived at 535pm in Nottingham, by which point Pete had waited a full hour longer than necessary, though at least part of that was spent in a pub.
After a brief trip to the off-license I arrived at the party just past 6.
Overall Leg Time : a little over 5hrs
Return
After the tip top party, I awake and go for breakfast. I know the trip takes 2hrs and my plan is to go to the station around 1pm, get back to Manchester for around 330pm (allowing for waiting for my train) and then get a bus directly to a pub to watch the game.
oh dear.
I left Pete’s house at 115pm, courtesy of his missus, Lou, and arrived at the station around 140pm.
Looking at the board I’m a little perturbed to see that there are no Liverpool trains listed (Liverpool is the final destination of the Manchester service) and check the boards to see if there are any scheduled for Sunday’s.
Indeed there are, so I go and ask a porter what’s going on?
Apparently Central train drivers are not contractually deigned to work on Sunday’s. All very nice, but why do they then schedule trains for a sunday knowing full well that they can’t fulfill the service?
I phoned Rail Enquiries to find out my best route home.
Nottingham -> Derby -> Stoke -> Manchester.
Interesting.
Of course the last Derby train left at 1343. which was about 3 minutes after I arrived and before I was aware of the situation. My next train leaves at 1443. Lovely.
I do some quick calculations and figure that my best idea might be to watch the game in Stoke, I really don’t want to miss it, but it is now evident I will not be back in Manchester in time.
I arrive in derby at three.
I rush off the train and check out the electronic display… and…. yup! the Crewe train (via stoke) has been cancelled! whip-woo!
I ask the information desk, (for this station, at least, has one), and apparently they’ve just closed the line (about 5 minutes before my arrival in Derby) and are sending some buses. But they won’t be there for at least an hour.
It’s 3pm. I can’t even catch a bus until 4pm. I find a pub.
3pm->6pm I watch the football in a local pub in Derby. On My Own. And we lose.
I arrive back in Derby station to note that the next train… sorry… bus to Stoke leaves at 1843. cue another long wait, a scone and a cup of tea.
The bus leaves at 1900 and arrives in Stoke at 1950. I catch the train back to Manchester. It arrives at 2050. I get home at 2130.
Overall Leg Time : just over 6 hours (I’ve removed two hours for football watching)
Overall
I spent 11 hours travelling, and had to watch the game in Derby. I got shuffled around with bags full of breakable stuff and became irritated. Overall I was able to do nothing I wanted to do except go to the party itself and watch the game. A car would’ve entailed 3 hours travelling, an extra lunch with my mates, less help required from other people, being able to watch the game in Manchester (in hindsight, whether this’d be an advantage is debatable), and having a relaxing sunday evening, possibly with more friends.
Summary
Trains Suck Ass.
I Need a Car.
