I love the new St. Pancras station. It just seems to me to be what a railway station ought to be like somehow...
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Saturday, September 06, 2008
A Cheap Day Out... in Warwick
I started blogging on the train last week when I went down to Warwick. I was using the N800 and a plug-in flexible keyboard on the small airline-type seat back on a Virgin Train. I didn't finish but thought I should post it up here anyway... so here goes...
(26 August 2008) I thought it might be distracting to try to blog while travelling... After all I have spent rather a lot of hours trundling around the country in the service of the Big Company. Most journeys seem superficially similar; it's not as if I spend a lot of time travelling to new and exciting destinations, more regular trips to the same domestic destinations served by one of a handful of airports or railway stations. Surely there is only so much that can be said about the domestic departure area at Stansted or the subtle changes after Thameslink became First Capital Connect (precious few!)? Then again does one want to give away all the little secrets that allow the wizened and cynical regular business traveller get one over on one's fellow passengers many of whom are having to spend large sums of their own money to go somewhere?
Today I´m going somewhere slightly different and under slightly different circumstances. Not that it´s much more exciting... It has the different element that I´m going for some training at my own expense. So this was about doing the journey on the cheap... Actually doing what Big Company would have you do; treat the money as my own (´cos it is!). I have to spend tomorrow at Warwick University, be there at 9, leave at 4.30, not feel too tired to take part and get home too. Obviously do this as comfortably as possible, feed and rest, without breaking the bank. Is it possible?
Glasgow Central to Birmingham New Street 16:10
As I write this I am sitting in an aisle seat near the end of standard class coach C as the train halts at Preston. Nobody seems to notice bashing their huge suitcases,buggies and children against my shoulder as they pile from the train. It´s a good price though; Glasgow to Coventry single for a miserly nineteen quid. There was a first class option available for £39... at this point two and a half hours in it feels excessively mean not to have splashed out the extra twenty. Im getting peckish now and I fear that ¨tea¨´may use half of that (refreshments are of course complimentary to the first class punters) differential. Of course I could wait until my 20 minute change at Birmingham New Street, only an hour and a half away but I will be pretty hungry by then and it will be after 8pm,the witching hour it seems for catering in main transport destinations. And 20 minutes with a bag and at an unfamiliar station might leave me with nothing except perhaps a missed connection.
So £7.15 it was for a dull Chicken Tarragon sandwich, a bag of cheese and onion crisps (to make the chicken taste more exciting? That failed) with a little bottle of Hardys Shiraz Cabernet Sauvignon. I was at a wine tasting session yesterday. She told us to swill the wine around the mouth to capture flavour and notice the impact of the wine on the tip of the tongue... Mistake. New world wine perhaps but with all the charm of old-world British Rail. The wine was warm... Not room temperature or cellar-cool but warm... It made thetongue tingle but not in a positive fresh way more the impact of indistinguished alcohol before it dulls the senses a little.
I´ve had the misery of two young women sitting next to me in this cramped space. The first,I guess a student, having blocked the aisle for everyone else snogging her boyfriend before departure from Glasgow sat ipod-clad like a statue to Carlisle where she rose, without a nod or by your leave to indicate her departure. She was replaced by a far less charming American, clearly in publishing who split her time scowling over a manuscript , her BlackBerry and half-calls on her mobile, not realising that they just dont work on Virgin Voyagers... As we approached Wolverhampton she spoke (to me) for the first time. ¨I´m getting off¨. Tempted I was to say something about politeness but frankly life´s too short.
(6 September) In the end was it possible to do it cheaply; certainly possible to do it cheaper and in similar comfort to the company paying. So I got to Coventry on time with half an hour's break at New Street where I confess to going up and having more dull food from Burger King this time. They say they are going to develop New Street... certainly at 8pm it seemed dismal, leading as it does into a shopping centre, closed with the single exception of Subway. The waiting area where I scoffed my dismal chicken burger had signs warning of ticket checks no doubt to deter the vagrants who see it as a warm place to stop. I navigated Coventry to my B&B with the help of Google Maps, not too much hassle and got there about 9.30. The room was small and without ensuite (though the bathroom was next door), there was wifi on offer and it was comfortable and the people very friendly. Despite being tired (and a bit confused about how the room key opened the outside door) I wandered into medaeval Spon Street and to what looked like a welcoming rabbit warren of an ancient pub with a reasonable range of real ales and a Casque Marque plate outside.
It was a bit disappointing though, accosted by a drunk at the bar and condition of the beer I chose (which I confess to forgetting) left a bit to be desired.
In the morning Traveline had given me two buses to catch to get to the university. Half an hour into a trek across pleasantly anonymous residential areas made me feel that trying to economise on £1.30 on the first of the buses was perhaps one meanness too far. Nevertheless Traveline's directions and information were excellent and I managed to catch a number 12 to the door of the building I was visiting.
Coventry station to Birmingham airport is a bargain traveller's dream... few airport trips, even a run one as short as this 10 minuter come in at a mere £1.80. Birmingham terminal 2 (once the BA terminal but now inhabited mainly by Ryanair and FlyBe) has remarkably easy security and a big Wetherspoons with adequate beer. £45 for the way home brought the whole trip in for little more than £100... not bad for an old meanie really...
(26 August 2008) I thought it might be distracting to try to blog while travelling... After all I have spent rather a lot of hours trundling around the country in the service of the Big Company. Most journeys seem superficially similar; it's not as if I spend a lot of time travelling to new and exciting destinations, more regular trips to the same domestic destinations served by one of a handful of airports or railway stations. Surely there is only so much that can be said about the domestic departure area at Stansted or the subtle changes after Thameslink became First Capital Connect (precious few!)? Then again does one want to give away all the little secrets that allow the wizened and cynical regular business traveller get one over on one's fellow passengers many of whom are having to spend large sums of their own money to go somewhere?
Today I´m going somewhere slightly different and under slightly different circumstances. Not that it´s much more exciting... It has the different element that I´m going for some training at my own expense. So this was about doing the journey on the cheap... Actually doing what Big Company would have you do; treat the money as my own (´cos it is!). I have to spend tomorrow at Warwick University, be there at 9, leave at 4.30, not feel too tired to take part and get home too. Obviously do this as comfortably as possible, feed and rest, without breaking the bank. Is it possible?
Glasgow Central to Birmingham New Street 16:10
As I write this I am sitting in an aisle seat near the end of standard class coach C as the train halts at Preston. Nobody seems to notice bashing their huge suitcases,buggies and children against my shoulder as they pile from the train. It´s a good price though; Glasgow to Coventry single for a miserly nineteen quid. There was a first class option available for £39... at this point two and a half hours in it feels excessively mean not to have splashed out the extra twenty. Im getting peckish now and I fear that ¨tea¨´may use half of that (refreshments are of course complimentary to the first class punters) differential. Of course I could wait until my 20 minute change at Birmingham New Street, only an hour and a half away but I will be pretty hungry by then and it will be after 8pm,the witching hour it seems for catering in main transport destinations. And 20 minutes with a bag and at an unfamiliar station might leave me with nothing except perhaps a missed connection.
So £7.15 it was for a dull Chicken Tarragon sandwich, a bag of cheese and onion crisps (to make the chicken taste more exciting? That failed) with a little bottle of Hardys Shiraz Cabernet Sauvignon. I was at a wine tasting session yesterday. She told us to swill the wine around the mouth to capture flavour and notice the impact of the wine on the tip of the tongue... Mistake. New world wine perhaps but with all the charm of old-world British Rail. The wine was warm... Not room temperature or cellar-cool but warm... It made thetongue tingle but not in a positive fresh way more the impact of indistinguished alcohol before it dulls the senses a little.
I´ve had the misery of two young women sitting next to me in this cramped space. The first,I guess a student, having blocked the aisle for everyone else snogging her boyfriend before departure from Glasgow sat ipod-clad like a statue to Carlisle where she rose, without a nod or by your leave to indicate her departure. She was replaced by a far less charming American, clearly in publishing who split her time scowling over a manuscript , her BlackBerry and half-calls on her mobile, not realising that they just dont work on Virgin Voyagers... As we approached Wolverhampton she spoke (to me) for the first time. ¨I´m getting off¨. Tempted I was to say something about politeness but frankly life´s too short.
(6 September) In the end was it possible to do it cheaply; certainly possible to do it cheaper and in similar comfort to the company paying. So I got to Coventry on time with half an hour's break at New Street where I confess to going up and having more dull food from Burger King this time. They say they are going to develop New Street... certainly at 8pm it seemed dismal, leading as it does into a shopping centre, closed with the single exception of Subway. The waiting area where I scoffed my dismal chicken burger had signs warning of ticket checks no doubt to deter the vagrants who see it as a warm place to stop. I navigated Coventry to my B&B with the help of Google Maps, not too much hassle and got there about 9.30. The room was small and without ensuite (though the bathroom was next door), there was wifi on offer and it was comfortable and the people very friendly. Despite being tired (and a bit confused about how the room key opened the outside door) I wandered into medaeval Spon Street and to what looked like a welcoming rabbit warren of an ancient pub with a reasonable range of real ales and a Casque Marque plate outside.
It was a bit disappointing though, accosted by a drunk at the bar and condition of the beer I chose (which I confess to forgetting) left a bit to be desired.
In the morning Traveline had given me two buses to catch to get to the university. Half an hour into a trek across pleasantly anonymous residential areas made me feel that trying to economise on £1.30 on the first of the buses was perhaps one meanness too far. Nevertheless Traveline's directions and information were excellent and I managed to catch a number 12 to the door of the building I was visiting.
Coventry station to Birmingham airport is a bargain traveller's dream... few airport trips, even a run one as short as this 10 minuter come in at a mere £1.80. Birmingham terminal 2 (once the BA terminal but now inhabited mainly by Ryanair and FlyBe) has remarkably easy security and a big Wetherspoons with adequate beer. £45 for the way home brought the whole trip in for little more than £100... not bad for an old meanie really...
Friday, June 06, 2008
A picture of a bicycle
Just a nice picture taken on my Pocket PC phone as an experiment in mobile blogging. Not hard in theory; take the picture on the phone, Bluetooth it to the Internet tablet and upload this through the regular interface. Nevertheless worth trying it from end-to-end. And it's a bit of a struggle of course. Not least of all that my increasing long sight means doing things on little screens is harder...
A view from the old railway path coming from Lennoxtown towards Strathblane on a nice day of the last holiday weekend.
No chance to be naked?
It's time to come back to the blog and write. I'm not sure why. Like so many moribund blogs there hasn't been any incentive. There's no obvious audience and what is it that I have to say that anybody would want to read? When I start writing like this I admire those newspaper columnists who every week (or day) churn out something. It may be commentary on some world event, analysis of political intrigue in Westminster or Washington; or just as likely a discourse on home life or relationships or what they last watched on cable tv. Millions of words are written and most of them must be read by somebody, somewhere, otherwise why bother. We can all write in vanity, perhaps like this. We can accumulate written material that is only read by ourselves and we can admire what we say and think if only there was somebody out there interested; if only I had an audience.
Yet without an audience do I want to reveal anything? Probably not. Across the world of blogs there are many who spill the beans on their personal lives without thought, happy to reveal themselves to the world and tell that world about the relationships and people who they are close to. This woman called Emily Gould who was apparently famous in America for her revelations on the Gawker blog about Manhattan life and then having apparently pissed everyone she ever knew off by revealing their personal secrets to the world then writes a new column for the New York Times about her post-blog world.
So what does that create for people? If you start, or are in a relationship, with someone you know blogs publicly all that happens in your life how does that impact the way that you behave? Every day many, nay most, of us pull on a suit of armour and walk into the workplace; adopting characteristics and behaviours that emphasise the persona we want to be in the office. We may emphasise the positive to impress how we line up behind the company strategy, while privately not caring less. We may assert ourselves more so that we are seen as able to do, when actually we'd rather be shrinking violets and hide behind the PC monitor with a cup of coffee. And these things distort us and take us away from our authentic selves. We treat it as part of the process we need to go through each day; while I wish it were not so and may write in future about how the lack of authenticity in the workplace distorts and disables us all. However there was always the end of the day.
At home was the place where one could be oneself, surrounded by those we care about and who love us for our foibles, where we are comfortable and relaxed. Where we feel that we can hang up the suit of armour and reveal our true selves; to have the freedom to flex ourselves and bend in the ways that we don't dare to bend in the office or on the teleconference, figuratively to become naked. So how is that compounded by the blogger in the corner, perhaps complaining that you are quiet and grumpy after a long day's being smiley and positive? Perhaps comparing you to his or her previous partner, whether in the kitchen or the bedroom? Well it would send me scuttling upstairs and getting into another bulletproof vest, persistently on my toes, thinking how to avoid any indiscretion which might tomorrow be published to all of Manhattan or the world. Or even only looked at on one PC in a corner of Milngavie but knowing it is always out there, always available. How would we ever relax?
So I guess I don't want to write about the minutae of my private life, fascinating and exciting as it may or may not be, not have it written about by others. Because then I will be forever on my guard, battling, and never relaxed enough to be naked.
Yet without an audience do I want to reveal anything? Probably not. Across the world of blogs there are many who spill the beans on their personal lives without thought, happy to reveal themselves to the world and tell that world about the relationships and people who they are close to. This woman called Emily Gould who was apparently famous in America for her revelations on the Gawker blog about Manhattan life and then having apparently pissed everyone she ever knew off by revealing their personal secrets to the world then writes a new column for the New York Times about her post-blog world.
So what does that create for people? If you start, or are in a relationship, with someone you know blogs publicly all that happens in your life how does that impact the way that you behave? Every day many, nay most, of us pull on a suit of armour and walk into the workplace; adopting characteristics and behaviours that emphasise the persona we want to be in the office. We may emphasise the positive to impress how we line up behind the company strategy, while privately not caring less. We may assert ourselves more so that we are seen as able to do, when actually we'd rather be shrinking violets and hide behind the PC monitor with a cup of coffee. And these things distort us and take us away from our authentic selves. We treat it as part of the process we need to go through each day; while I wish it were not so and may write in future about how the lack of authenticity in the workplace distorts and disables us all. However there was always the end of the day.
At home was the place where one could be oneself, surrounded by those we care about and who love us for our foibles, where we are comfortable and relaxed. Where we feel that we can hang up the suit of armour and reveal our true selves; to have the freedom to flex ourselves and bend in the ways that we don't dare to bend in the office or on the teleconference, figuratively to become naked. So how is that compounded by the blogger in the corner, perhaps complaining that you are quiet and grumpy after a long day's being smiley and positive? Perhaps comparing you to his or her previous partner, whether in the kitchen or the bedroom? Well it would send me scuttling upstairs and getting into another bulletproof vest, persistently on my toes, thinking how to avoid any indiscretion which might tomorrow be published to all of Manhattan or the world. Or even only looked at on one PC in a corner of Milngavie but knowing it is always out there, always available. How would we ever relax?
So I guess I don't want to write about the minutae of my private life, fascinating and exciting as it may or may not be, not have it written about by others. Because then I will be forever on my guard, battling, and never relaxed enough to be naked.
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