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.