Made use of a facility that I haven’t accessed since December 9th, namely Manchester Victoria station. It’s not a bad place — when it works — and certainly way better than it was when I first started using it regularly in 2005, when it was still largely a hole in the ground.
But in all honesty, this is a picture of her trousers, which I think are excellent, particularly the shape they make.
I didn’t go out today, and alongside the poor weather, here is a good reason why. I don’t normally do this kind of thing on here, but observations must be made, in photo form, of the ‘helpful’ information currently available on the Northern Rail web site. Nobody in ‘Authority’ really gives a toss one way or the other, so here we are. Twelve and a half years in power and this bunch of idiots can’t even provide a working railway. Or is it the unions’ fault, somehow? For what though, expecting that all that rubbish spoken in 2020 about how important ‘keyworkers’ are might actually translate into an ability, two years later, to at least sustain their rewards in the face of the rising cost of living? (See also nurses, postal workers, etc.)
So be it. The two trips I have to make before the (ostensible) resumption of ‘the usual service’ on 9th Jan. could have been done on the trains, instead I am obliged to use less environmentally sustainable means. Sadly I don’t expect 2023 to be much different, throughout.
In my mind’s eye there is a perfectly symmetrical version of this shot. But in the absence of its reality, this one will do.
This was the third of eight railway stations passed through today (nine if you count Wageningen bus station) as I travelled from a small provincial town somewhere near the centre of the Netherlands to a small provincial town somewhere near the centre of Great Britain (Hebden Bridge). And so ends my 11th complete year of doing this blog.
On the move again — a schedule dictated by the rail unions. I support the strikes, though. Anything that pisses off the morons currently running this country must have some validity.
Passengers in various states of thought and repose, as the train pulled into Rochdale on the way into work. Or, I suspect for the guy immediately opposite me, home after a rather heavy night.
For the duration of this visit, and certainly today, its final morning, Dundee has basked in balmy sunshine that is atypical for the city. It contributed to a pleasantly chilled out wait for the train heading back south, which I think this couple epitomise. (My journey was fine all the way to Bradford, after which it descended into a farce of the kind only Northern Rail seem able to manufacture, but that’s another story, hours in the future.)
My son might have chosen to live out his university years in a place (Dundee) that is about as far as he could have got from us in West Yorkshire, while staying in the UK. But, there are compensations. Over in the distance, Arthur’s Seat and Edinburgh. Closer to the camera, the Firth of Forth, all taken just before passing through Burntisland station.
On the move again. A scene on the train to London, where I will be for the whole week to come. The field of poppies outside — somewhere near Doncaster — was so extensive that I had time to see it, get the camera out, set up the shot and still capture it OK, despite moving at around 75 miles per hour at least. I believe black won the game in the end.
In comes the 16:22 to Leeds, about as on time as it gets. It didn’t get me home at the scheduled time but that’s just natural variation in the Northern Rail time-space continuum.
What goes down South, must come back up North again (at least, unless one wants to be paying hotel bills for an excessive length of time). I don’t know where this train was going, but I was on the 10:30 back to Leeds, and then home.
Being 42 