It's fair to say, that in visiting Bristol, one has first to journey there. This fact, is as obvious as it is unimportant - except that, on this occasion, I was travelling with those dear people on Virgin Trains. Even that should not, of itself, be a problem. Have a look at this picture, though. They think that the route to Chester-le-Street from Newcastle is via Leeds. This was, for me, my first nagging doubt. The first, as it turned out, of many. More of that later. Well, more of it right now, actually.
Upon entering the carriage, I could not help but notice how warm it was in there. Really quite very a lot warm. Stifling, in fact. The cheery train manager passed by and said that the carriages had arrived a little warm, but the air conditioning would soon sort them out and not to worry. Reassured, I settled down in my comfortable and roomy seats. I must commend Virgin on the accommodation in economy class - it's roomy and well supplied with things like power sockets. I felt that I might enjoy the journey as soon as they sorted the heating, or maybe turned it off completely. It was, after all, a very warm day.
As the journey progressed, it became clear that the carriages would not be getting any cooler. Quite the opposite. Without the fresh air from the station, via the open doors, the carriage quickly descended into sub-tropical heat, added to by the humidity of the kitchen next door, throwing out loads of nice hot steam. I did not have a thermometer with me, but it must have easily reached the low 30s Celsius. Everyone was perspiring freely and getting gradually more distressed. The train manager made it increasingly clear that nothing would be done about the heating problem, and that we must simply put up with it. I asked him personally if there was anything he could do, because after a three hours of this, we were all in quite a state. A hot day with the heating on full in a sealed carriage is not a pleasant thing. Three hours into the five and a half hour journey I started to feel really quite ill.
So what was the train manager's response to my enquiry? It was remarkable. He came at me with a stream of abuse, mainly surrounding his inability to do anything about the situation, and my cheek in bringing it up. Stabbing me with a desperate finger, he asked the killer question: “Why should I disrupt this service, just because of your discomfort?” Of course, I had no answer. He was right. Our discomfort was not his problem, nor should it ever be.
I will be sending in a complaint for to Virgin Trains. I await their response with interest.
I arrived at Bristol Temple Meads with something akin to heat exhaustion, and not quite in the mood to do what I had to do. Still, after a quiet Sunday, plenty of liquid and some nice food, I soon felt better.
In between doing work things, I got a quick whistle-stop tour around Bristol. I stuck my camera out of the window a few times and randomly clicked the shutter. The results were surprisingly good, and so I plan to use this as an approach in the future. Sure, the pictures all needed straightening out, but they look OK in the finish.
The Clifton suspension bridge is a sight of substantial beauty. I was glad that I got a good look at it. This picture was taken during an extended sortie in Jo's faithful Citroen, whilst we tried to locate some quality coffee in Bristol. We were substantially unsuccessful. Such coffee as there was offered no nearby parking, and so we were forced to retreat to Sainsbury's. The coffee there was OK, and I bought a length of sausage, which pleased me quite a lot.
The time was all too short. I got everything done that I set out to do, had some great conversations, met some people and saw a city that had previously been quite foreign to me. Job done. I'm actually quite proud of my careful selection of technology to take with me for this trip. My little camera served me well, and my ultra-compact recording system worked at treat for the vocal material I wanted to bring back with me. I really should have remembered to take a mic cable with me, but we found one that did the job at a really old fashioned guitar shop.
I do like this wall. I sat on it a fair amount, looking for some fresh air in a city that seems short of it. It was great at night, watching the busy insects forming a moving tapestry beneath my feet. I felt like a teenager again, except that there was no crowd of others with me. We numbered three at most, and that only briefly.
Nevertheless, a great wall. If you ever need to contemplate anything and are in the St. George area of Bristol, I highly recommend it.
The journey home was also a nightmare, due to my through train being terminated at Birmingham New Street, and the passengers all being transferred to an already packed train heading north from somewhere else. After two hours of standing and tightly packed in the lobby area of the carriage, I was feeling pretty ill and exhausted, so I got off at Wakefield and spent the night in Huddersfield. I was glad I had the option. When I finally arrived home yesterday afternoon, I felt like I had really been through the mill, thanks to Virgin trains.
As ever - never again, till next time.
Thanks for reading - I realise this has been a long posting.
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