Tag: Travel

• The Joy & Despair of Commuting By Bus

  Dear reader, you may have noticed, having read many of my previous articles, that I am very much in favour of railways. And there are many good reasons for this, from the sheer economy that comes with steel wheels running on a steel rail, to the incredible safety record of Britain’s railways. However, in some circumstances, one must leave the steel ribbon behind and use a bus, on a road of tarmac.

  Firstly, I would like to clarify that I am not talking about coaches here. If you do want to see my take on coaches, see this article on Megabus. Buses differ substantially, and tend to be used on much shorter trips, and thus end up with many commuters on them, notably in cities. They are also, unfortunately, a fair amount slower by virtue of the sort of roads they travel on, than the aforementioned coaches.

  The operator of choice in this case is National Express West Midlands, who run the majority of the buses in Birmingham (there is some confusion as they do not run coaches, unlike the parent company, National Express). NEWM (as I shall now refer to them) seem a rather confused company at first glance, since they do not seem to be able to decide on a livery.

  Many of their buses are in an older livery, with a sort of red triangle on the front third of the bus, and white over the rest, save the windows which occasionally get a black band around them. Other markings, for particular routes (and their virtues) do make an appearance on some buses. This is a poor choice of colour scheme since the white shows road dirt, rather than the paintwork, off, and colours one’s perception before even stepping aboard. The route markings are a neat idea, but fail to disguise the fact that most of the bus is very plain, at least to look at.

  Some are in a newer crimson livery; a much more pleasing result. A slightly darker shade of red adorns the section of the bus below the windows, and hides dirt much better. The pattern is a far more modern “swoosh” at the front (hard to explain unless you’ve seen it yourself) and the overall appearance is that bit nicer. Not that I have seen many of these in my neck of the woods, but it’s nice to know they exist.

  The best, however, I have saved for last. In the same pattern as the crimson buses, the “Platinum” buses have two-tone dark grey exteriors, which would run the risk of being bland, except for the large, eye catching advertisements for the buses on the sides, applied directly to the paintwork (though I suspect they are stickers). It is interesting that NEWM really do like to shout about themselves a lot more than the trains do – then again, the trains have no shortage of passengers, but I digress.

  Waiting for the bus is a far less predictable experience than waiting for a train. It is far easier to run trains at regular intervals because timetable planners for the stopping trains already know when faster trains are going to be where, and so can fit their trains around them. Road traffic is a far harsher mistress – the traffic does not run to a timetable, and this has the sadly inevitable result that even though you might dispatch the buses at intervals, they tend to bunch up and get stuck. The result is the familiar “wait ages for a bus, then 2 come along at once” phenomenon, at least on weekday mornings. This is in spite of the promised 10 minute frequency.

  That said, when the bus does eventually arrive, things begin to improve. Like the local trains, one has the option to use a smartcard. In Birmingham, these are called “Swift” cards. Mine is handy since I’ve got an unlimited bus travel one, that works out as almost ludicrously cheap per day, and makes life much quicker when you get on. Even if one doesn’t have a card, the ticketing system (almost) couldn’t be simpler – £1.50 for a short hop, £2.40 for a slightly longer single, £4.60 for a day ticket (valid on all their buses). One can even use one’s contactless bank card to avoid coins (interestingly, NEWM do not give change, there is just a slot to put your money in when you ask for a ticket).

  How things go from here really depends which sort of bus one finds oneself on. If you have the older red and white ones, the interior greets you with cold indifference – the seat fabric is an unappealing series of grey dots on a grey-er background of dark, dull grey, the interior scheme doesn’t really match and one gets the impression that the appearance to passengers was quietly forgotten at some point during the design stage.

  However, if you find yourself on a Platinum bus (the big grey ones) you are greeted far more warmly. Seats have a nice pattern of red dots on grey, with leather headrests and much more legroom than you would expect from a bus (good work, designers). The USB power sockets are a nice touch, and their little blue lights match the uplighting on the stairway glass. Sitting down, the seats are at least as comfortable as they look, and the whole interior “fits” together much better. It even looks quite classy. This standard of interior design is unfortunately becoming rarer on the railways, where price for the leasing company, operator, or the Department for Transport seems to be the biggest consideration, not, as one would hope, passenger comfort.

  The aforementioned joy of commuting by bus is having the comfortable seat, and the commanding top deck position, while kicking back, reading today’s Metro and generally relaxing on one’s way. This situation is improved enormously if there is no traffic and no annoying school children (of course, un-annoying school children are allowed). If one can get the left hand front seats to oneself (the right-hand ones have no leather headrests, much to my chagrin) one looks out through tinted glass and can enjoy one of the best views of Birmingham it is possible to get (though of course what you make of Birmingham is up to you).

  Perhaps here the Metro itself deserves a mention. I am assuming most people are aware of this free newspaper; after all, most railway stations have a container for these things, at least outside London, and buses (even the thoroughly mediocre Centrebus) have containers for them. In London, one can have both the Metro and the Evening Standard, but I digress. The Metro has to cater for everyone using public transport; a difficult task further complicated by the constraint of the paper’s low cost. I do believe, however, that the final paper is a perfectly acceptable rag, with most of the pointless bickering and gossip of the tabloids filtered out and some reasonably well put together actual news stories. Don’t expect any long reads or proper investigative journalism, but as a morning briefing, you could do far worse. And if you were driving you wouldn’t get any sort of free paper, nor would you be able to read it while travelling, so there is that advantage.

  The time now comes for me to tell you, dear readers, about the downsides to commuting by bus, the aforementioned despair. First off, the traffic creates not only the problem of buses bunching up, but it also means that getting anywhere becomes a very slow process. Crawling along in traffic is never fun, and lengthens the door to door travel time enormously, in some cases to the point where it is actually quicker to walk (I am told that in London the problem is so bad that in the majority of cases, walking is quicker).

  On the subject of other modes of transport being quicker, a friend and I decided to compare bus with train, with a very direct comparison of going form one point to another, with neither being a station for either mode. Now, this isn’t as daft an idea as it sounds – although the trains are much quicker, they are a bit less regular, at least in theory, and if the bus could get a good run through the traffic, there was some potential for me to win this race. I didn’t. Even in (almost) ideal conditions, when I got on a bus straight away, and the traffic was relatively light, and then I ran in a rather undignified fashion through the charming streets of Birmingham, my friend still beat me comfortably by a few minutes. Repeating the experiment provided the same result.

  Much like trains, buses also get crowded in the morning and evening peak. I have concluded that, in order to be really comfortable on the bus, one needs to be on a bus before 0800, or preferably at about 0730. This is before the traffic has really got going, before most school children have arrived and before most people can be bothered, at least in Birmingham. This creates the rather obvious problem of a rush to get up, dressed, have breakfast (the most important meal of the day, as I am quite sure no-one has ever condescendingly told you), clean one’s teeth and pack one’s bag, in order to be at the bus stop in reasonable time. I personally see it as worth it for a quiet bus and an almost guaranteed copy of the Metro, but I can see how it *might* be a disadvantage for some.

  Alas, after that 1,521 word tirade, we must come to an end, and press the proverbial stop bell, waiting to get off the article, thanking the driver as we go by. And out we go, onto the rest of the wide, wide internet (hopefully to spread the word about this article). It only remains for me to thank you for reading, and politely remind you to keep your feet off the seats.

  — Photo by Luis Quintero from Pexels —

   

   

   

   

   

   

  October 21, 2018

  Birmingham, Bus, Buses, Commuting, National Express West Midlands, NEWM, Travel

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• The Other End of the Spectrum – And What I Learned on Megabus

  Dear reader, you may have noticed me going on about first class recently, and I may have mentioned that this is rather unusual as far as my travel arrangements are concerned. Well, recently, the time had come to do something that, once upon a time, never imagined doing – taking a Megabus.

  I should explain that I made every effort not to. Timetables were consulted, the internet scoured, multiple options considered, hotel rooms looked into. I even considered National Express, but the timings just wouldn’t fit. It did look as if I was going to have to rely on getting a lift in a private car, which, while the conventional thing to do, is hardly in the spirit of things. In short; where’s the fun in that?

  But, after a short consultation of the Megabus website, it seemed that they might be the ones to rescue me from this predicament, however reluctant I might be to accept the rescue. I bit the bullet and booked a return trip.

  This is the first thing that I learned, and I think the rail industry in particular can learn from – the Megabus website is a very useful one. Rather than endless options concerning railcards, passenger types, time of travel, there are simple, easy to understand buttons. Adverts are not allowed to get in the way of the booking section (helpfully situated at the top of the homepage), instead they are for your perusal at the bottom of the page (unusual considering that Megabus are a budget operator).

  Now I will admit that this is largely because the railways have incredibly onerous fare regulations, resulting in literally millions of different fares. This is due to the fact that, despite the names of various fares changing, the regulations were locked in as of the mid 1990s, when British Rail was privatised. Another problem is that there must be a ticket between every pair of stations, however minor. (I must also mention that many fares are regulated by the Department for Transport, and that when fares increases are announced, the average increase in these is what is quoted).

  The fares are, as one might expect from a budget coach operator, low. It must be mentioned that the best advance train tickets are better, but these tickets can be hard to find and you need a railcard to access great savings. The amount I spent (which, to add some suspense, shall remain undisclosed) was very low without any special discount – quite convenient indeed.

  Of course, I am not going to pretend that waking up at half past 3 in the morning to catch a bus is a fun thing to do. Neither will I pretend that the bus stop in question was a particularly pleasant place to be, but I suppose that, given the small amount of money required to take a Megabus, one cannot complain.

  The first thing that I noticed when the Megabus arrived was good old fashioned customer service. Despite the early morning and unpleasant surroundings, the driver was very friendly and helpful, something all transport undertakings can learn from. Luggage space was also cavernous, under the floor of the bus; quite the opposite of the railway situation where luggage space has been shrinking for years.

  Actually stepping on board, the next thing one notices is that the seats are rather small, if not necessarily uncomfortable, though again one cannot complain since the prices are so small. Despite this cost saving, both plug sockets (actual 3 pin ones, not the smaller USB type that you get on some buses, if you’re lucky) and Wi-Fi (which appears to be rather good, if the amount of other passenger’s phones on display was anything to go by). These facilities are surprising given that Megabus are a budget coach operator, and even the newest trains sometimes have neither of these features (I’m looking at you Thameslink).

  Actually getting on the move, the coach was remarkably smooth (almost as good as a train) given that a coach is a road bound vehicle. This might be because the particular coach I was on had 3 axles, and thus 6 rather large wheels, rather than the standard 4 wheels. That said, I’m not a mechanical engineer so I am not really qualified to say.

  One disadvantage of the journey down, sitting as I was on the back row of the coach, was the lack of room for reading, with a book having to be held with arms very close together so as not to touch anyone else on the row. Needless to say this was uncomfortable, but:

  a) I’m British. The idea of accidentally touching someone else on public transport is one of the scariest imaginable and

  b)  This problem sometimes manifests itself on trains and

  c) If I was driving, even attempting to read a book would be out of the question.

  Alas, after 3 hours of smooth, mainly motorway driving, we arrived at Victoria Coach Station. The trouble here is that, unbeknown to first time travellers, Victoria is separated into Arrivals and Departures, with quite a distance between the two. The arrivals section appears rather dangerous since one must make one’s way around coaches to get to the exit, with apparently nothing to prevent said coaches from moving and running one over. It is a small miracle that one does not hear of such incidents very often, and perhaps here is an area in which the coach industry can learn from rail (there hasn’t been an accident fatality on UK railways for 11 years).

  Much later, my business in London complete, I returned to Victoria (just the coach station, though I am quite fond of the railway station too), and I must say I was much more impressed with the departures section. Right from the start (this might sound obvious but I’ll explain why I’m mentioning it later) the station is geared to get passengers on the right coach. Large screens showing all coach departures, by time, destination and operator, adorn the entrance hall, and easy to read, well placed signs direct the passenger to the correct gate. The gates themselves are marked by large numbers in a kind of stylised circle, a decorative touch that does not detract from the overall usefulness of the sign.

  This is all the more surprising given the recent trend on the railways. One might imagine the purpose of a railway station would be to get passengers (who, let’s not forget, fund the vast majority of rail operations, and cover most of the costs of day to day running) on the correct trains. This fits quite neatly into my personal definition for the purpose of the railway – to get people where they want to be, when they want to be there (yes there is freight too, but this is increasingly niche). Sadly, Network Rail (who actually own the vast majority of the stations, even those operated by Train Operators) have taken it upon themselves to turn stations into miniature (and in some cases not so miniature) shopping centres, leading to some confusion as to where the actual platforms are, and where people ought to be going.

  Let me illustrate this point with an example; the recently renovated Birmingham New Street. New Street has always had something of a reputation as it was rebuilt in the 1960s under a shopping centre, not the wisest move when many of the trains belch diesel fumes (though new ventilation has done much to improve matters). While the shopping centre in question, the Palisades, was an ever present feature above the station, it was never allowed to intrude upon the passenger areas which were simple and easy to navigate. I am not going to argue the old New Street was a pleasant place to be, but it was at least an easy to use station, and the British Rail signage was clear and well positioned.

  Now, the station is confused. On the one hand, the platforms themselves are still marked New Street, and the station still listed on National Rail Enquiries as Birmingham New Street (BHM). On the other, the new shopping centre is known as Grand Central, with this name emblazoned in large letters on top of the station come shopping centre, and on the adjacent tram stop. Going inside reveals even more confusion, as there is no definite dividing line between the two, and even a partition of platforms at one end into two “Lounges” to allow shoppers not to have to go through any ticket barriers (apparently with no regard to passengers who have to either go through two sets of barriers or the other end of the station). The newer signage hardly helps, with small, fiddly white letters on a blue background, sometimes with utterly useless phrases like “metro”, which actually refers to the trams, but sounds as if it could be for trains or even buses.

  Meanwhile, at Victoria Coach Station, what shops there are are to the side, to allow a free flow of passengers to the gates (getting people where they want to be, when they want to be there). Domestic passengers are not interrupted by the European check in, which is only by those gates from which international departures, erm, depart. Furthermore, in complete contrast to the arrival arrangements, one will only be allowed to leave the departure building when the coach is ready and staff open the gate, a much safer system. The fact that coaches are cleaned between the arrival and departure sections is very welcome, and again a contrast to rail practice where trains frequently receive no attention whatsoever from the cleaners when being turned around in London, even after long journeys.

  The coach home was a good 40 minutes late, but this is to be expected given that coaches are at the mercy of traffic, road accidents, and so on and so forth. This is another advantage of trains – in most cases, trains are either on time or within a few minutes of time (an impression you certainly don’t get from most media coverage) and incidents are relatively rare. While I mention it, Train Operators are legally obligated to get you home if the last train is cancelled (this means, for example, paying for a taxi) whereas, as far as I am aware, Coach Operators are under no such obligations. Advantage train, this paragraph, it would seem.

  Mind you, it is nice that the lights were dimmed on the coach at night, something I have yet to encounter on a train. Near-perfect reading lights, that cover a sufficient area with enough illumination to read comfortably, yet not enough to wake your neighbour, are provided. Stepping off the coach in the early hours of a new day, I made finally for home.

  To conclude, what have we learned? Well, quite a lot, but the main thing to take away is that Megabus really aren’t that bad. If you’re looking at this from the perspective of the railways, you really can’t be complacent – the competition isn’t crap anymore.

  In any case, it only remains for me to thank you for reading, and ask you politely to share this with others, if you feel those others might enjoy the article.

   

   

   

  September 30, 2018

  Coach, London, Megabus, Travel, Victoria

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• Pete’s Marvellous First Class Adventure (with some un-marvellous bits thrown in)

  Now, dear reader, despite the rather up-market language I am fond of using, I am in fact a very regular person, living a relatively normal life, with relatively normal friends and so on. I am not in the habit of going to balls, formal dinners, or board meetings. To be quite honest, the concept of brunch I find slightly too upper class, so you could be forgiven for thinking that I travel standard class all the time. And you’d be correct, normally.

  However, for my mother’s birthday, since we could get some cheaper advance tickets, we decided to go first class. This is a lesson for all those who seem to think railways are terrifically expensive – book in advance and there are frequently savings to be made. Admittedly, we did not go first for our entire journey, but that is really besides the point, since I’m sure that you’re all familiar with what standard class looks and feels like (though I suppose there are minor differences between operators, but such minutiae are beneath this very up-itself article).

  Our story begins in the strangely topsy-turvy world of Birmingham New Street. This is not a place I am unfamiliar with. After all, I have spent many evenings watching trains here, and many hours waiting for trains within its confines. Why topsy-turvy? Good question, glad you asked. The upper reaches of the station are now quite a pleasant place to be, with an interesting bubble roof, natural light, and a pleasing lack of exposed concrete. The actual platforms, while a little brighter than before, are still rather unpleasant, since putting the concourse and shops on the top of the platforms and running lines results in diesel fumes staying down there, despite the improved ventilation (as a side note, I wonder how much my life has been shortened by breathing in said diesel fumes; I assume by at least several minutes).

  However, today, I was not going to gawp at trains on the platform or wander aimlessly about the concourse. No. Today, we were heading for the first class lounge, which has an entirely different character to the rest of the station. The first thing you notice is that the lounge is far quieter than the rest of the station. Then you notice the suits, and the lack of anyone who could reasonably be defined as a ragamuffin. One can, of course, in the first class lounge, get complimentary tea, coffee, small snacks, and even Pepsi (not exactly a high class drink, it must be said).

  Sitting very comfortably in the lounge is wonderful, but the purpose of a railway station is to get people on trains (and the correct ones at that – perhaps I shall write about that at some point). So on we went towards platform 6, a bit of a faff from the first class lounge, as you must go through two sets of ticket barriers (okay, yes, it is in theory possible to go through only one set of barriers, but it is hardly a logical route). Platform 6 is much like many of the other platforms. Splitting it into a) and b) proved academic since our train arrived in the form of an 11 coach Virgin Pendolino (Virgin Dream was spangled rather nicely on its nameplate, though it had seen better days). It is a sad fact that those in the original livery are looking rather shabby these days, and are in need of a repaint. It is a shame that the new livery is just plain white, but that is another matter.

  The interior of a first class coach could almost not be further from that in standard. Seats here are arranged in 2+1 format, with tables at every seat and, joy of joys, the seats even line up with the windows. Each seat is provided with a smart mug and a glass, for hot and cold drinks respectively, placed on a ceramic tray which is also very smart (all these things are smart in the terms of looking smart, to the best of my knowledge they contain no computers, nor would they put on a good show on mastermind)

  Of course, the other thing that happened to me in first class was that I was addressed, not with the usual ambivalence or hostility, but as “sir”. Suffice to say, the first time this happened, I was quite taken aback, and almost felt the need to correct them. Alas, as time goes on, you do get used to it, and in this way I think first class is rather bad for the soul, since you end up with an inflated sense of your own importance. That said, worldly indulgence is sometimes a wonderful pick-me-up, and I certainly won’t be telling you never to do it.

  I would complain that:

  a) We were only served cold drinks once on a journey of several hours

  b) There were no newspapers on the train, which you are normally allowed

  However:

  a) A plethora of cold drinks was available in the first class lounge and

  b) Cold water was available from a fridge in the middle of the coach and

  b) A choice of regular or financial times was also available in the lounge and

  c) I am not that entitled to complain about two very minor problems in an otherwise amazing environment

  However, after many happy hours of lounging about in the lap of luxury, we were forced to get off by the arrival at our destination. The other very minor problem with first class is that the first class coaches tend to be on the London end of the train, so if you’re going north you sometimes have to walk past all the standard class passengers on your way to the exit. Now it is tempting to be a massive snob about the everyday hoards, but my next railway journey will definitely be standard class and it really isn’t in my interest to mock my future self (feel free to do that yourself though).

  Some days later, that particular trip having run its course, we travelled back, this time via a slightly different route, which would involve travelling first class with LNER. I should mention that this LNER, or London & North Eastern Railway, is not the same in any way (other than running trains on the same route) as the original London & North Eastern Railway, of Flying Scotsman and Mallard fame (though they didn’t actually build Flying Scotsman, but there’s a tangent for another day). The current LNER is just a brand name used by the Department for Transport for the operator of last resort (controlled by the Department for Transport, run by various companies including SNC Lavalin), which took over from Virgin Trains East Coast (which was itself mainly owned by Stagecoach). The point of this paragraph is twofold – firstly, almost every name on the railway is to some extent a lie, and secondly, that I am a huge fan of brackets (or parentheses, depending on your preference).

  One must admit that LNER’s first class lounge in Edinburgh is also an incredibly nice place to be, though on this occasion it was slightly shabby, and the choice of cold drinks was rather lacking. That said, conditions on the train counteracted these two problems so I should not complain. Instead, let me tell you of the comfort of the seats, which was, and I don’t use this word lightly, superb, and the quiet ambience that surrounds all such places.

  The train southwards was an HST, which I have rambled on about in the past (see this article), but suffice to say, these beautiful machines are 40 years old and still going strong, with relatively minor modifications. One of these modifications was the refurbished interior, which was done by Virgin Trains East Coast, but so you don’t notice all mention of Virgin has been removed. Do not, however, let that distract you from the sheer magnificence of the leather seats, the neat arrangement of tables and the pleasing manner in which you are addressed by staff.

  Indeed, I was again called “sir”, and, although I registered a suitable amount of embarrassment, I was beginning to become used to it. I was offered several cold drinks, including a coke, which I gladly accepted. A full fat one too, for why would you go first class and then have some tasteless, characterless diet drink thrust upon you? I certainly have no idea why anybody would do that.

  One advantage of travelling by HST is that, at least for now, on most of them, you can open the door windows to let a bit of fresh air into the vestibule, no doubt a lifesaver in a crowded standard class coach, but a mere refreshing change from the air conditioning in first class. A disadvantage however is that the ride quality has rather suffered in the 40 years since these coaches were introduced, and gets almost (but not quite) to the point of spilling one’s drink in several places. On our coach, it must be added, the toilet did not flush properly either, but since I was only urinating, this proved not too much of an issue.

  It seemed almost a shame to get off at the rather empty and unfriendly platforms of Peterborough station, but this did at least give us the chance to use a flushing toilet and just catch a late running (every cloud has a silver lining) cross country train home, to sample its first class. While I gather that this is rather better on their Voyager and HST train, the first class on the class 170 (I promise I won’t get any more technical than that) is competent, and nothing more. Seats are comfortable, and recline slightly, but there appears to be little to no actual service to accompany them. That said, at least it was a quiet and stable ride home.

  This is the point in the article where I have to issue some disclaimers. Like men, first class sections were not created equal – Virgin and LNER are known for their good service, but other operators may leave you sorely disappointed. In particular, commuter trains in London very rarely have a decent first class section, with usually the same seating layout as standard, no service or catering whatsoever, and just a set of doors to remind you that you are in first (though there are some exceptions, in particular on Greater Anglia’s class 379 trains). The reason for the spartan first class is that you are entitled to a full refund should you fail to get a seat if you are a first class ticket holder, and this really is what you are buying when you pay for first class in those cases.

  All that now remains is for me to wish you an excellent day, and to ask, politely, if you know anyone who might enjoy this, that you pass it on to them. Not that it’s mandatory, we live in a free society after all, but it would be appreciated. I really must stop waffling…

   

   

   

   

   

  September 19, 2018

  Birmingham, Edinburgh, England, First Class, LNER, London, Scotland, Trains, Travel, Virgin, Virgin Trains

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• Pete’s Adventures in Tramland

  Dear readers, let me start by apologising for the lack of posts. I am afraid I simply ran out of material to write about, and did the only thing one can – bugger off somewhere else.

  I made my way, through a cheap but nonetheless not especially cheerful Centrebus service (and there’s a whole other article), to Nottingham. Nottingham, the city of Robin Hood, the capital of the East Midlands if ever there was one, and the proud home of several universities. I was not, however, on my way to celebrate any of these things. As one might expect, upon stepping off the bus I made straight for the nearest tram stop.

  Having bought my ticket, I settled down with a trusty copy of that day’s Metro to enjoy the delights of the Nottingham suburbs. It started very well. The newer tram I was on was clean, quiet, comfortable and not full of crying babies. In the end, I regretted going to Toton Lane – there is little there, save for a huge, tarmac car park, and a small food and drink stall. The attendant at the food and drink stall showed little interest in me as I walked by.

  Alas, I went back up to the centre of Nottingham, on an older tram whose floor, once just green, now green with a liberal sprinkling of brown, told me it had seen better days. Luckily I got off at Old Market Square, and, after a small misunderstanding involving a Burger King drinks machine, I was back on the tram, this time heading for the impressively named Pheonix Park, only to find that it contained a car park rather than a firebird. One bonus was that the Phoenix Park bit is a little single line section, with a very cute stop called Cinderhill.

  Next was Hucknall, one of Nottingham’s less reputable suburbs. Here, the tram is right next to the Robin Hood line which goes off toward Worksop. It too lacks romance, as 1980s Diesels (1990s if you’re lucky) work their way out of Nottingham and into the countryside. East Midlands Trains, bless them, are trying their best, and there’s a train each way every half hour.

  The most interesting thing here is the enormous Tesco, so large it’s more of a department store than a supermarket. Weekly shop? tick. New computer? No problem. New wardrobe? Sure. Oh, and, as well as the Tesco, there is another vast car park (something of a theme I’m afraid). Leaving Hucknall, I left, intending to go to Clifton South, making my way back towards Old Market Square.

  I quickly realised, consulting my watch, I would just miss the bus home. Due to Centrebus’ aforementioned un-cheerful service, I would have to wait over 3 hours for the next one. Happily, Nottingham has a Waterstones, and a ruddy good one at that. 4 floors of books, magazines, stories and even a Costa coffee.  A good hour and a half of time (but no money) was spent looking at lovely books, before I continued.

  The line out to Clifton South, like the line to Hucknall, has a fast section (70 fine kilometres per hour, you know) following a beautiful crossing of the Trent, which few of my fellow passengers seemed moved by. To the surprise of absolutely no-one, Clifton South proved to be yet another car park. I’ve been a bit harsh on Nottingham Express Transit – their service is perfectly acceptable. Smoother and quieter than a bus, and considerably less polluting, I did express to them my gratitude over email.

  A couple of days went by and I journeyed to Sheffield, courtesy of a train operated by Northern. £8 from Nottingham to Sheffield, with a railcard, is not a bad price at all, and, while the interior hadn’t seen much attention in the last decade, it was at least clean. Despite all Northern’s troubles, the train hadn’t been cancelled, and led to my arriving in Sheffield 4 minutes late. I then once again made for the trams.

  Unfortunately (or helpfully, depending on one’s outlook), you have to buy a ticket from a real person (the conductor) on the Sheffield Supertram, whose colour scheme is certainly hard to miss. The even crummier suburbs of Sheffield beckoned, but after a strange look from the conductor (who was about 6ft 6 in every direction) at Malin Bridge, I was soon heading back to the city centre.

  I had already learned I would be denied my chance to be pedantic about Halfway (the stop of that name, that is) being at the end of the line, as all the track was shut for maintenance from Gleadless Townend onwards. I wasn’t too put out though, as the view from the hill is quite something. I was able to make a quick getaway on a tram already waiting there, without a look of any sort from the conductor.

  Sheffield’s trams differ from Nottingham’s in that they feel more like a train with some low bits than a tram in its own right. The ancient moquette may be tatty on the old trams, but the ride quality pips Nottingham to the post, and you really do notice the lack of padding on the newer seats. Sometime soon they’ll start running some of them up to Rotherham on the conventional railway, so I guess this might be intentional.

  And then there was Meadowhall, which was not as I expected. From the outside, the buildings are made to look quite in keeping, old fashioned even. I was thus expecting the inside to be something like the Trafford Centre in Manchester, but in reality it was more like the Starship Enterprise. After a short but expensive pit stop in Five Guys, I carried on back to Sheffield and my train, which was promptly delayed by a late running Cross Country train.

  Back in Nottingham, I then practiced the art of waiting for the next 50 minutes. Part of it was spent watching an old High Speed Train rumble in from St. Pancras (2 minutes late, if you’re interested), but the rest was spent wandering around aimlessly, something I’m getting really rather good at. I then boarded the Centrebus, and went home.

  These past thousand or so words are really just a (rather shoddy) explanation of what I have been doing, rather than the usual article on here. Mind you, if you enjoy this style, I might even try more of them.

   

   

   

   

   

   

  September 8, 2018

  NET, Nottingham, Sheffield, Supertram, Trams, Travel

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