Replacement Bus Service

I’m not having much luck travelling home from work this week. At least it has given me something to write about. It’s Tuesday night and I’m writing this on a bus. The reason I’m writing this on a bus is because earlier today someone stupidly decided to drive their campervan into the path of an oncoming train at a level crossing in Littleport. Thankfully no one died but if you ignore the lights at a level crossing then you probably deserve what’s coming for you. This bus is on its way from Ely to Littleport and then to Downham Market. The damage to the railway line is bad enough that it’s unlikely to be fixed tonight so there will also be the joys of a bus from Downham Market to Ely tomorrow morning.

It’s a bit weird how replacement bus services call at train stations, just like a train. It’s weird because a bus isn’t a replacement for a train. A bus is, well a bus. It’s without a toilet, leftover newspapers and (relatively) high speed travel. It would be just as easy and perhaps more convenient for bus to drop people off in a respective town centre, just like a bus normally does. But the bus is a replacement for the train and therefore has to call at all of the train stations that the train would normally call at.

The 18:44 Kings Cross train I got calls at Ely, Littleport and Downham Market. My normal 18:14 train from Kings Cross doesn’t call at Littleport. The reason why the 18:14 doesn’t stop at Littleport is because it is an 8 carriage train, too big for the platform at Littleport station. So if I got the replacement bus service for the 18:14 from Ely would it have stopped at Littleport? You can see how the whole replacement bus service thing is a bit weird.

The reason why I missed the 18:14 train is because I walked from my office to Kings Cross, about a 30 minute walk. I did this because Covent Garden Station was crowded with people trying to get in, so I decided to walk to Holborn where the crowds were even worse, literally spilling out onto a busy road. It’s quite a nice change to walk in London, you do get a greater feel for the city and its myriad of wonderfully different people. So I felt quite good until I found out that the train was terminating at Ely. Along with Stevenage and King’s Lynn, Ely is the third train station in 2 days that I’ve been to despite not wanting to. Let’s see if I manage any more this week…

The effects of sleep deprivation

I’m tired. I’m always tired. Last night I didn’t get home at 20:15 as predicted, I actually got home at 21:00. 3 hours and 45 minutes after leaving my office (too tired to bother claiming compensation from First Capital Connect). After the fun of changing at Stevenage and deciding to write about it, I completely missed my station stop at Downham Market and ended up in King’s Lynn.

To my defence there was no announcement at Downham Market (many unnecessary announcements and a lack of necessary announcements are a feature of First Capital Connect trains – more on that another time), the first I knew that I’d missed my stop was the announcement ‘this train terminates here - all change please’. I looked out at the unfamiliar surroundings, confused as to where I was. I was at King’s Lynn train station and the next train back wasn’t for another half an hour.

I’ve never been so tired as to miss my stop before; even on boozy nights out in the capital I’ve still managed to get on the last train and get off at the correct stop. I think it’s the long-term effect of lack of sleep for the last 11 months (incredibly I’ve been doing an effective 60 plus hour week for nearly a year). I’ve needed great determination, stamina and endurance to get through it all but I’ve started to wonder how long I can do it for.

There are of course those who regularly travel for 4 or even more hours a day, getting to and from work in the capital. They have done it for years and it’s easy to spot them on the train as they are usually asleep. The first time I did this commute I prepared myself as well as I could and bought a newspaper and a bottle of water to have on the train. Between sipping my water and reading my paper I looked around and saw dozens of my fellow commuters asleep. Why sleep on a train I thought at the time. Sleeping is of course a very private thing to do, so to share this moment with dozens of strangers is a bit odd. When I got up the next day for day 2 of London commuting I soon knew why – because you’re so tired.

I’ve since tried sleeping on a train – I managed it quite early on, perhaps into my second or third week of commuting. I got about 30 minutes I think and certainly felt the benefit of it when I got to work. I tried again another day soon after and dropped into a peaceful sleep when I was woken up by a fat businessman shouting into a mobile phone (there are quite a lot of those on First Capital Connect trains). ‘Jake! Jake! Can you hear me?!’ Shocked by the sudden and urgent tone of his voice I woke up, only to discover that sitting opposite me, it was a fat businessman shouting into a mobile phone.

I haven’t slept properly on a train since. I ‘chill’ by shutting my eyes, leaning the side of my head against the window and listening to a podcast or 2. But I haven’t managed to properly sleep since the fat businessman woke me up by shouting (literally) into his phone.

It’s a shame as I could certainly do with all the sleep I can get. Other than missing my stop I have also made a few sleep deprived errors lately. Recently McDonald’s ran a TV advert that depicted sleepy customers making sleep deprived errors and then going for a McDonald’s at 6 in the morning. It’s quite a good advert but it has one major flaw – if the customers are so tired then surely they’d rather spend an extra half an hour or so asleep in bed rather than go to McDonald’s? That’s what I’d do anyway. I minimise my time in the morning by doing as much as possible the night before (showering, ironing etc.), this gives me a precious few more minutes asleep. In the advert tired people are depicted putting milk into the washing machine, pushing on a pull door and wearing odd shoes – I’ve done most of these things recently.

This morning I neglected to do all the buttons up on my shirt, thankfully I soon noticed when I got on the train. I regularly put my belt on the wrong way round, and on a recent dress down Friday I had put my t-shirt on inside out. I’ve forgotten the keys to my desk drawer, have left my homemade sandwiches (I rarely make sandwiches at home now – it’s too time consuming) in the fridge and like the customer in the McDonald’s advert have pushed on the pull door that leads to my office. However, up until I missed my stop on the way home yesterday, my worst sleep deprived error was wearing odd shoes.

The McDonald’s advert finishes with a young woman wearing odd shoes – as if that’s the most ridiculous thing you could do when you’re tired. Well I managed it one morning recently and I didn’t notice until I was getting off the train. I looked down at my feet and noticed 2 black shoes – so far, so good – but then I noticed that each one had a different pattern on top. I had recently bought a new pair of black shoes, very similar to my last, and was wearing a new one on my right foot and an old one on my left foot. Hopefully nobody noticed as they did look similar. It didn’t stop me feeling rather stupid all day.

It’s quite funny really how lack of sleep causes you to make strange decisions. Thankfully I spend my day sitting on a train and at a desk in in an office, so I can’t do much harm, no matter how tired I may be. It makes me appreciate the skill and stamina of equally, if not more, sleep deprived people like surgeons and heavy machinery operators. For them if they make a sleep deprived mistake then it’s a matter of life and death, luckily for me it’s not.

Train Failure

I'm sitting on a train, waiting to creak into Stevenage train station. But I don’t want to go to Stevenage; neither does anyone on this train. The train has a fault apparently. I say apparently because it can clearly still move – to Stevenage train station anyway, but not to my, nor my few hundred other commuter’s destination.

I want to go to Downham Market, to do so I and a few hundred other frustrated passengers will need to cram onto a train from Stevenage to Royston, then another from Royston to Cambridge. At Cambridge about 90% of this train (the lucky ones) will get off, and I and a few dozen others will then board our 4th train that will finally take me to Downham Market.

I’m particularly annoyed because after a day where I got up before 7am, was in the office just after 9am, had a shortened 15-minute lunch so I could be back for a meeting that was subsequently cancelled, and had to manage to find something to do when the systems I use to work with were down all day, I decided to leave work 10 minutes before my allotted time and catch an earlier 17:44 train.

The (second) train has just left Cambridge – thankfully the nightmare scenario of 4 trains home didn’t happen, just the annoying scenario of a 12 carriage train full of hot and tired commuters boarding a 12 carriage train of hot and tired commuters. First Capital Connect had the wisdom of stopping my normal 18:14 train at Stevenage to pick up the 17:44 passengers but unsurprisingly it was standing room only for 40 minutes from Stevenage to Cambridge. I’ve luckily got a seat a Cambridge but this service is so overcrowded that there are dozens still standing after Cambridge – when the train is normally nearly empty.

There was of course the normal fun at Royston when the 12 carriage train from King’s Cross divided into 2 separate services where the rear 4 coaches stop at all subsequent stations to Cambridge and the from 8 coaches go straight to Cambridge before venturing further up the Fen Line. I don’t know how many people use the stopping service from Royston to Cambridge but it can’t be many as most of the commuters on the rear 4 coaches seem to get off at Royston before scrambling up the platform to the front 8 coaches where they squeeze onto an already overcrowded train. This is confusing and chaotic when done with one train full of passengers – imagine what it was like with 2 train’s worth.

It’s now a 19:45 and I’m not yet at Ely. I left my house at 7:00 this morning. I left work at 17:15 and I will likely be home about 3 hours later. I’ll definitely be claiming for this. If you are unlucky enough to use First Capital Connect trains on a regular basis then make sure you claim for any delays at http://www.firstcapitalconnect.co.uk/customer-care/delay-repay . You’ll get about a £7 rail voucher which isn’t much consolation for taking a precious hour out of your day but it’s the best you can get. That is of course if you are bothered enough to do so when you get home, as like me you’ll probably be very tired.

November 2010 – March 2011: Communist Embassies, Olympic Athletes and Anarchist Graffiti

It’s been a while since I updated this blog – 4 months to be precise. That’s 4 months of what so far has been 7 months of working 40 hours a week, travelling 4 hours a day and sleeping 6 hours a night. For a large part of the last quarter of a year my one hour’s escape from the daily grind of commuting and working has been all too infrequent. Hourly adventures around the capital have become a few minutes’ dash to the many nearby sandwich shops and takeaways. And there are many – within 10 minutes’ walk from where I work, you could easily go somewhere different for lunch every day for a year. It’s very tempting and very convenient – I think I’ve made myself one sandwich in the last 3 months. From Greggs to Pret, McDonald’s to Pizza Hut, Subway to small Italian cafes – I’ve had my fair share of lunch time junk food.

From that list you’ll see that my choice of food is not very adventurous – so far I haven’t been tempted by Japanese food which seems to be very popular in my office at the moment. Last week a colleague of mine from Manchester was describing his love of sushi – it was all a bit weird, with his strong Manc accent you’d expect him to be talking about his love of meat pies. Stranger still was the occasion when I noticed a Dutch colleague of mine preparing his lunch in our small kitchen (or in 21st Century office speak a ‘breakout area’).  It seemed pretty normal at first – plate, salad, dressing, crunchy bread and then I saw the raw baby octopus. I stared at it: Raw. Baby. Octopus. No thanks. Certainly 3 words I never want included when describing my food.  I left him to enjoy his strange lunch and then messily devoured a sausage roll at my desk.

One of the reasons I haven’t ventured out very often in the last 4 months is because most days the weather has been rubbish and the workloads have been high. This has led me to eat my lunch in perhaps the unhealthiest way possible – scoffing a sandwich at my desk. Millions of people across the country spend their lunchtime the same but that doesn’t mean that it’s right. It is very wrong. As Chris Evans once said, lunch should be ‘less al desko and more al fresco’.  Al fresco is the way forward and when it’s sunny outside it’s a waste to be indoors. I am writing this on the train, it’s nearly seven pm and it’s still light outside – beautiful.

Returning to the dark days, one of the few highlights of November’s lunchtimes was a visit to the Vietnamese Embassy in Kensington. There are many embassies in Kensington – one of the most expensive locations in a very expensive city. Who pays the rent? Is it the UK taxpayer or the Vietnamese? Either way we’re both getting ripped off just so some dignitaries can do their work in a nice part of town. I was there because a work mate of mine, a member of the original group of lunchtime adventurers, was going to Vietnam for his brother’s wedding and needed to get their visas. We got there fine – the Tube journey to South Kensington and walk along Kensington High Street was quite pleasant, we didn’t have too much of a problem finding the embassy as it had a large Communist flag outside; the only problem was when we tried to go in. It was shut for lunch – for 2 hours. No wonder we live in a Capitalist society if the Communists have a 2 hour lunch every day! It was a wasted lunch hour for my colleague who had to come back on his day off, but still a fairly interesting one for me.

December meant Christmas shopping, which I still managed to leave to the last minute. There was too much choice, so I went for the usual gifts – chocolate, perfume, toiletries and gadgets – the only difference was that they were bought from posher shops and were more expensive than normal. Other than that lunchtimes in December weren’t that great as the weather was bitterly cold and the streets were full of tourists.

Apart from the odd enjoyable occasion when I enjoyed good weather, food or company, sometimes even all three, most of January and February’s lunchtimes were the same forgettable trips to nearby sandwich shops. Into March and so far I’ve had a few enjoyable lunchtimes with colleagues walking around the usual sights which despite their familiarity still seem pretty impressive to me. Walk south across Waterloo Bridge on a sunny day and the view is amazing – to your left St Paul’s, the Gherkin, Canary Wharf and the Oxo Tower, to your right the Millennium wheel and the Houses of Parliament. It’s the bridge where reporters film from when they’re doing a piece about London. Walking there is a normal everyday activity for me but still a pretty special one.

To celebrate the belated return of spring, I went to the Porterhouse, my favourite Covent Garden pub, with a workmate last Friday. We enjoyed a well-earned cold bottle of beer as we stood outside the pub and surveyed our glorious surroundings. Then my mate spotted James Cracknell the Olympic gold medal rower, just causally walking past off to buy lunch and talking on his phone. It marked London celebrity number three for me – other than Alan Sugar at his book signing last year, I spotted Frank Skinner getting out of a taxi near Covent Garden one cold February morning.

Other than spotting the odd famous person going about their daily business, London is also a great place to be when an important event is happening. The Budget was last Wednesday, so I went with a couple of workmates to wander past Downing Street and then the Houses of Parliament to see if we could walk behind a film camera and get on TV.  We didn’t see any cameras but we did see a member of staff trying to enter the Downing Street gates in order to deliver a McDonald’s. We joked that it was for George Osbourne for when he finished his speech. 

Today we walked to Trafalgar Square again to see the remains of the graffiti and vandalism that took place on the same day as the TUC rally against the government cuts. Nearly half a million people protested peacefully against the cuts, while a few hundred caused chaos in central London. It was unsurprising that the media focused on the latter event, so we went down to Trafalgar Square to see what all the fuss was about.

Nelson’s column and his 4 lions were covered in anarchy symbols and various bits of crude graffiti – ‘Fuck the cuts’ was a popular slogan, ‘Cameron is a cunt’ was another, while someone with a historical grudge had chosen to spray ‘the party starts when Thatcher dies’. The general tone and artistic quality of the graffiti was pretty simple and says much about those who wrote it. It certainly highlights that it had nothing to do with the hundreds of thousands who joined in the TUC rally.

It was quite funny to see the dozens of tourists having their picture taken in front of Nelson’s Column – they went away with truly unique photos thanks to the graffiti in the background. They couldn’t climb on the lions though – as the lions and Nelson were fenced off while a couple of contract cleaners removed the paint. To do this they used a bottle of methylated spirits, which is probably similar to what those who had written the graffiti had been drinking.

October: Art by criminals, free food and meeting Alan Sugar

Other than a rant about not getting a seat on a train, I haven’t written much lately. In the last couple of months my London lunchtimes have remained interesting but I haven’t felt inclined to write about them. I’ve enjoyed exploring the Southbank Centre, which is like a university campus as there are lots of people hanging out in open spaces, and lots of rooms that have random things in them.

The exhibition Art by Offenders was a memorable one – the artwork was interesting and so were the descriptions. One of the curators had written something along the lines of ‘we not only encourage art in prisons because of its rehabilitative effects but also because it is only in prisons, and in particular psychiatric prisons, that we will find the next Van Gough’. Interesting stuff indeed, and the sort of thing you probably only find in London.

Move away from the centre of London and you’ll see that the city is a series of small towns linked together by urban sprawl. Walking through the middle of Holborn is like walking through the High Street of such a small town. I’d gone there courtesy of a free Dominoes offer in the 20p Sun newspaper. Certainly not my usual reading material but I’m not fussy when it comes to a hot lunch for 20p.

Holborn was the nearest Dominoes from my office, about a 10-minute walk away. The promotion was on for a week – on the first day it was fairly quiet but on the second day the entrance resembled a kebab shop on a Friday night as office workers and labourers jostled for their free food. One scaffolder in front of me was chancing his luck by trying to get 2 Dominoes with one voucher; the harassed guy on the till was having none of it, so the scaffolder screwed up the rest of his newspaper and threw it over the counter.

There’s something about getting something cheaply that makes many people behave rudely. Poor prices equal poor behaviour. I’d seen it before by pensioners queuing up for £1 breakfasts and families shopping in Poundland. It’s not the same for everyone though, but for many there seems to be an unwritten rule that if something is cheap or free, then not only are you not grateful for it, you are also rude when you get it.

I have now been working in London for 3 months and up until today I have not even had the slightest glimpse of anyone famous. I was quite surprised as I had expected to have seen at least a few by now. Previously I have met Noel Gallagher (at a gig in London about 10 years ago) and seen Rory McGrath (twice in Cambridge a few years ago but I’m not a fan so I didn’t bother saying hello). Today that celebrity hat trick was finally completed as I met Alan Sugar, a.k.a. Lord Sugar of Clapham. I follow Lord Sugar on Twitter so knew of today’s book signing in Waterstone’s Piccadilly and had been looking forward to it for days.

It was raining so, along with a couple of workmates up for the adventure, I took the Tube from Covent Garden to Piccadilly Circus and walked up the road to Waterstone’s. After purchasing his autobiography I got what looked like quite a small queue for the book signing. I was then reliably informed by a guy who had ‘been there since 8 o clock this morning’ that I was nowhere near the end of the queue and pointed me to a long line of people who were confusingly in front of bus stop.

Standing in the rain I got assigned a ticket by a Waterstone’s employee – I turned up at ten to one and got number 168, the guy who had been there since 8am probably got about number 68 so I think I got the better deal there. 30 minutes later I was ushered inside and up the stairs to a cordoned off area near the crime section. Waiting for my book to be signed I took a photo of Lord Sugar but it came out blurred. I then realised that was because my hand was shaking. Waiting to meet someone famous is quite nervewracking.

Approaching the desk I thought about what I was going to say and wanted to tell him that I had been enjoying his tweets, particularly the ones about Wayne Rooney. When it was my turn he looked at me prompting me to tell him what to write. ‘Jeremy’ was my one word answer to this. ‘With a G or a J?’ the Baron asked. ‘J’ I answered. ‘How do you spell that?’ he asked again. ‘J-E-R-E-M-Y’ I answered. I’d done it – I had remembered how to spell my own name. That’s not as easy as it should be when you’re face to face with one of the most famous and respected people in Britain. He quickly shut the book, prompting me to move along so the next book could be signed. Whilst I was there, my workmate Jordan took a couple of photos – the best one is here.You can see my left ear and part of the side of the face in the photo, so I'm claiming that as a photo of me and Lord Sugar.

The whole thing was quite surreal really, like a dream it almost feels that it didn’t really happen. The signature in the front of my copy of his autobiography tells me that it did though. It was a surreal but highly enjoyable way to spend my lunchtime, and one that I’ll remember for a long time.

Standing room only: the 18:14 from Kings Cross to Kings Lynn

Get to the train at 18:10, 4 minutes before its departure, and for only the third time in 3 months I don’t get a seat. I’m immediately relegated to third class status, as like a tramp looking for food out of a bin, I scan the train for a seat.

For the next 45 minutes, as the train speeds through the Hertfordshire countryside from King’s Cross to Cambridge my backside will be parked on an uncomfortable luggage rack. Then when 90% of the passengers on this train get off, I’ll take my pick of the seats, like a tourist in front of an all-inclusive buffet.

Fortunately for me this is not a regular occurrence but the reality is that this fate is shared by millions of commuters every year across the country. With that in mind train companies should perhaps make their luggage racks more comfortable, however they will of course never do this, as doing so would be to admit that their trains are overcrowded.

Perhaps all commuters should carry their own portable seat as part of an emergency kit that would cover all elements of travelling on a train in Britain in the 21st Century. Also included would be alcohol gel, wet wipes and tissues (in case you have to go anywhere near one of the train’s toilets), an inflatable pillow (because even if you manage to get a seat they are often very uncomfortable) and earplugs (to block out the noise from neighbouring passengers headphones).

Britain’s trains should be a pleasure to travel on. However, for me and countless others they are often a pain in the arse.

6-20 September: The Centre of England

The travelling was starting to take its toll. I was constantly tired and had a sore throat that wouldn’t go away. Lack of sleep plus being close to other people’s germs every day (train and tube) isn’t the greatest recipe for good health. This made my decision to enjoy an hour of fresh air and light exercise every day all the more important. Lunch hours exploring the streets of London were the one thing that I did on a daily basis that was good for my health.

Like all animals humans are creatures of habit and I had got into the habit of going to the same places each lunchtime – usually Trafalgar Square or the South Bank. Eating your sandwiches and watching the world go by in Trafalgar Square is of course a great experience: Not only do you feel that you are in the centre of London (and therefore England), you get to do some quality people watching. The steps leading to the National Gallery may not have the same romance as the Spanish Steps in Rome but they are certainly not without their charms. For me, one of the most heart-warming sight to be had in London is a toddler chasing after a pigeon. The sheer joy they get from a bird that is hated by most adults is a great example of the innocence and beauty of childhood.

Trafalgar Square may be a great place to go for lunch but I was aware that I had been visiting it and my other regular lunchtime spots (South Bank, Covent Garden) all too often and it was time for a change. So the next available lunchtime I went somewhere different. Walking west along the Strand I went past Trafalgar Square and up Whitehall to Horse Guards. Normally I just pat the horses on the head when I walk past but this time I thought I’d wonder in and take a look at Horse Guards Parade, home of the famous changing of the guard.

In the archway between the street and the parade ground was a soldier in uniform standing with what appeared to be the sole reason of having is picture taken with tourists. For any man who is a trained killer this must be quite a strange experience. What’s more surprising in this finance-obsessed time is that there was no charge to have your picture taken with the soldier. Hundreds of tourists pose for photos every day and I’m sure they’d be more than happy to pay a few pounds for the privilege. If the silver spray-painted statue artists of Covent Garden do it then why shouldn’t the Household Cavalry?

After taking in Horse Guards Parade I took a side street back onto Whitehall. I looked to my left – the Foreign Office and then to my right – the Treasury Office, and wondered how many important decisions had been made in these buildings. The next thing I noticed was a fleet of brand-new 60-registration top of the range silver Land Rovers, about 20 of them, probably pool cars for the Treasury or Foreign Office. How do these vehicles, costing close to a hundred thousand pounds each, fit into the Conservative government’s promise to cut Whitehall waste?

Walking back along Whitehall I took in many of the national monuments – from the field marshals – Montgomery and Hague to the women’s memorial and the Cenotaph. There are probably hundreds in total, all in black and all memorials to the horrors that were suffered to keep Britain free. From Trafalgar Square to Whitehall, wherever you are in this part of the city you can’t help but feel that you are in the centre of London and therefore the centre of England. So it’s perhaps no surprise that many people who live and work in the capital think that London is England. Of course it’s not, it’s a very different and unique place – one that I have the pleasure of exploring every day.