Wembley, Canterbury and Autumnal silly season

Two weeks ago marked the start of the usual Autumn busy-manic-craziness. And it certainly has been so far. We have the most enormous September issue since before the credit cruch, which is fantastic, but we didn't have a lot of time to lay it all out - fingers crossed that it looks as good as it deserves to be when it comes out.

Once that was done, we had to short-list the Award nominations, which took place over three days - because while the quantity was good, the quality was absolutely phenomenal, which made it very difficult and necessarily time consuming.

But the week was broken up with a visit to Wembley Stadium for a renewables trade show. It was very small, but very good, with an informative cross-section of suppliers, demonstration area and seminars.

The train getting there... was another story, and at one point I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Going to Charing Cross, we stopped at Tonbridge and didn't start again for half an hour. In that time, the train was cancelled and reinstated, and there reason? There was a driver change and they'd sent the new driver to Tunbridge Wells by mistake - long gone are the days of 'floating' crew to step into the breach when necessary!

There was a trolley on this train though, and some thoughtful person with excellent customer service training had the trolley man offer everyone tea/coffee/redbull etc for the inconvenience. Caffeine buys an awful lot of goodwill and they should have the Victoria line trains carry trollies in the rush hour.

I got my coffee just before getting off at Waterloo East (London Bridge was the first plan, but rescheduled train went fast to Waterloo East) and was happily slurping it as I walked up the ramp to Waterloo for the tube. Until an ignoramus in a pin-striped suit ran past, knocking my shoulder and spilling my coffee down me. My (fortunately old) black and white top instantly became black, white and tan, and more importantly it was a complete waste of half a cup of free caffeine.

Unhappy bunny located tube entrance to Jubilee Line, and was instantly horrified to find Jubilee suspended due to power failure. Rapid alternate route calculated on Bakerloo and Metropolitan. Bakerloo was probably okay, but I was busy having a strop and trying to work out how I was going to talk to important people without coffee stains distracting. The Metropolitan line was just wonderful with a brand new Olympic train with open carriages, air conditioning, comfy seats and possible hygiene.

Trip home was uneventful.

Went to Canterbury on Saturday for lunch with Mel who's getting married next week.

It was a lovely way to spend the day - the city was busy, but not too much so, and while it had been raining before I arrived, it managed to hold off while I was there.

Oliver Cromwell at Victoria

Last week, the Orient Express gave me a lovely surprise - the Oliver Cromwell was in Victoria, and a stunning engine it is too. To my untrained eye, it has what I think is classic styling, inasmuchas, the wheels and funnel are not hidden by body shell.

Wiki says it is a Britannia class, and it was on a private charter to Weymouth. In fact I do believe that it was the 5305 Locomotive Association, who have a write up on Cromwell's renovation and lots of other info on their website.

Trains and Tower Bridge

Look what I did! I was at a Sika press launch last week and was 'forced' to build Tower Bridge out of lollipop sticks and pipe cleaners in 15 mins. The most recognisable won.

That would be me. Was much fun and felt as if I was seven years old again!

A while ago I said that I would attempt to refrain from ranting about trains, and happily Souteastern have reciprocated by providing, for me at least, a reasonably good service – this probably has more to do with most of their customers failing to believe their announcement that they had made their service target by a squillionth of a percent. And when I say good service, I mean mostly on time trains which only break down now and then, and sensible decisions being made quickly when things do go wrong.


It is with great sadness and a total lack of surprise that this halcyon period appears to over. Someone must have told the trains that winter is on its way and now they're scared.

But I am not going to rant about the twice being late for work and three times late home in the last week or so. Instead, I have an illustration of how even with the best of intentions all around, Southeastern somehow still manage to project a sense of dis-organised mis-communication. It goes something like this:

I will start by explaining that I sleep for the one hour and forty something minutes on the way into work in the morning. This begins immediately after I have worked through the Metro as far as the Nemi cartoon, which usually coincides with my train gently pulling away from platform 6.

Train leaves platform 6 on on time at 6.58.

I snuggle down into my jacket and close my eyes.

Snoring may possibly occur.

Vaguely wake up at random stop and crack open eye.

Harrietsham, says the sign. Marvellous thinks I, and closes eye.

Snoring may occur, dribbling definitely does.

Vaguely wake up at random stop and crack open eye.

Barming, says the sign. Marvellous thinks I, and closes eye.

Happy dreams of beating Sebastian Vettel and Lewis Hamilton on the Scalextric occur.

Vaguely wake up at random stop and crack open eye.

Barming, says the sign. Marvellous thinks I, and closes eye.

Somewhere in my brain, the  two Barmings eventually collide.

Go from zero to sixty in seven nanoseconds.

Haven't we already stopped here? I ask my neighbour.

Neighbour scowls, doors stuck.

The guard chooses to spend his time apologising for the delay, and explaining that the doors are stuck.

Many times to an audience who have heard it all before.

And those who hadn't, had by the fifteenth run through.

The driver spent his time doing stuff.

He opened and closed the doors.

He opened the door panels and fiddled inside.

He rebooted the train.

He fiddled with knobs and buttons.

He called control for some advice.

Control told him to do everything he'd already done.

He did.

He concluded that he could close and lock all doors but one set.

Guard explained that passengers weren't allowed to travel on a train with an unlocked door.

After half an hour of this, they decided the train was cancelled.

Guard told passengers to get off the train.

Driver called control and advised that he'd got all the passengers off the train.

Driver asked for permission to go backwards to get the train into a siding.

Guard sauntered up the platform.

Guard informed driver that the passengers would like him to unlock doors so they could get off.

Doors unlocked and passengers alighted.

I've never been to Barming before. I have now.

Train failed to move.

It started raining.

Train still failed to move.

It rained quite a lot more.

Train eventually moved.

Station master advised that London bound trains were now chockablock full and might not even stop.

Station master advised very crowded platform of people to take train going back to Maidstone as all trains stop there.

Platform emptied as many hundreds of people streamed across tiny footbridge to opposite platform.

Tiny footbridge groaned alarmingly.

Maidstone train arrived.

Many hundreds of people squeezed on.

As one of last people, I had one foot in the door.

Another person with one for in the door  noticed London bound train arriving.

All persons with one foot in the door observed London bound train slowing.

Station master yelled that there was no room on London bound train.

All persons with one foot in the door, removed foot and sprinted for tiny footbridge.

London bound train turned out not to be chockalock full.

London bound train had seats.

Many seats.

I sat on one and dripped all over my neighbour. 

I watched the mass of people crossing the groaning tiny footbridge and squeeze on to the train.

I also noted that train accommodated passengers quite nicely.

I was also sadly amused at the faces of the people who had chosen to stay on the Maidstone train.

And definitely laughed at the indecisive passengers who left the Maidstone train at the very last minute and sprinted across the tiny footbridge in time to miss the London bound train.

Total result: arrived very soggy into work nearly two hours late.

DTM weekend

The DTM weekend at Brands is my second favourite race weekend of the year. The favourite being the Lotus 100km race in November. This year was no exception and the changeable weather made teh racing, which for the big DTM cars can be a bit of parade around around teh small Indy circuit at Brands, very exciting. 

I spent Friday on the pit lane entry - which on a big weekend with TV cameras and a premier race is hectic. The pit lane gets busy with not only people, but complex portable technological huts that sit on the pit wall, and the DTM cars being pushed around from garage to scrutineering and back even when other racing is going on.

Some big names were around, and chances are high of bumping into one or two of them rushing from one thing to another. Some of the names that you may have heard of outside of the DTMs (which in themselves include David Coulthard, Ralph Schumacher and Gary Paffet), were Johnny Herbert, Mark Blundell, Tiff Needell and Jody Scheckter.



Supporting races included the Siroccos with the legends class included, the lotuses which as always, I adore, and the Eurocar racers. One orange Eurocar reminded me a lot of an 80s TV show for some reason... 

Oh yeah, and on Sunday they made a couple of us dress up in bright yellow - *so* not my colour!