We had tickets for the first leg of the Carling Cup semi-final for last Wednesday evening at the City of Manchester Stadium but, of course, it was postponed because of some weather or something (tickets still valid for the rescheduled game on Tuesday 19th - more travelling).
This did not prevent me braving the elements on Wednesday morning (actually, at that time, there weren’t any elements) as Sheila was already at her mother’s in Manchester and I was packed and ready to go. Chaos reigned at Bournemouth railway station: trains between Bournemouth and Waterloo (both ways) were being delayed up to 1 hour 12 minutes – somewhat daunting when you consider the total journey time averages only about 1¾ hours - and platform changes abounded, including for my train which involved the rather comical spectacle of me trying to run through the subway to Platform 3 with 4 minutes to spare! When I arrived, the departure board had indicated that the 09:45 to Manchester Piccadilly was ON TIME but every announcement on the PA system seemed to be prefaced by the words: “We are very sorry to inform passengers for the....” and the nearer it got to 09:45, the more apprehensive I became. In the event, we were only 15 minutes late setting off and, despite the increasing arctic conditions the further northish we progressed (and this was between Bournemouth and Southampton, not the real north!), the adverse weather didn’t seem to hinder the train’s speed that much and we made good headway. Until Wolverhampton, that is, when the train manager (guard, in my day) announced: “I’m sorry to report [here we go again] that we will be delayed here indefinitely due to a suspected suicide on the track between here and Stafford, in the Penkridge area...” It could only happen to me! Anyway, as it was the first time I had been able to get a signal on my broadband dongle, I did over an hour’s work while we were stationary - see what I did there?
I arrived at Piccadilly a couple of hours late in the end, but in one piece, well, ¾ of a piece – don’t forget the dodgy leg – and a very nice (brave) taxi driver conveyed me to my mother-in-law’s in Middleton (Rochdale) along snow-covered roads. And my dongle carried on working! Ironically, the journey back home last Sunday took less time than it usually does - just 4 hours!
This did not prevent me braving the elements on Wednesday morning (actually, at that time, there weren’t any elements) as Sheila was already at her mother’s in Manchester and I was packed and ready to go. Chaos reigned at Bournemouth railway station: trains between Bournemouth and Waterloo (both ways) were being delayed up to 1 hour 12 minutes – somewhat daunting when you consider the total journey time averages only about 1¾ hours - and platform changes abounded, including for my train which involved the rather comical spectacle of me trying to run through the subway to Platform 3 with 4 minutes to spare! When I arrived, the departure board had indicated that the 09:45 to Manchester Piccadilly was ON TIME but every announcement on the PA system seemed to be prefaced by the words: “We are very sorry to inform passengers for the....” and the nearer it got to 09:45, the more apprehensive I became. In the event, we were only 15 minutes late setting off and, despite the increasing arctic conditions the further northish we progressed (and this was between Bournemouth and Southampton, not the real north!), the adverse weather didn’t seem to hinder the train’s speed that much and we made good headway. Until Wolverhampton, that is, when the train manager (guard, in my day) announced: “I’m sorry to report [here we go again] that we will be delayed here indefinitely due to a suspected suicide on the track between here and Stafford, in the Penkridge area...” It could only happen to me! Anyway, as it was the first time I had been able to get a signal on my broadband dongle, I did over an hour’s work while we were stationary - see what I did there?
I arrived at Piccadilly a couple of hours late in the end, but in one piece, well, ¾ of a piece – don’t forget the dodgy leg – and a very nice (brave) taxi driver conveyed me to my mother-in-law’s in Middleton (Rochdale) along snow-covered roads. And my dongle carried on working! Ironically, the journey back home last Sunday took less time than it usually does - just 4 hours!
