A close encounter (of the unpleasant kind)

I was walking briskly in the chilling night air down Hammersmith Road, as is my wont, on my way home. A young man, rather casually dressed for the cold, somewhat unshaven with straggly long hair, stopped me. Did I know the nearest takeaway? I pointed back toward North End Road but before I could extol the delights of the various greasy spoons on that dismal thoroughfare he launched into a bitter and vitriolic attack on the area. Why were there no takeaways? Why was this area such crap?. Shepherd’s Bush [just a mile north west of us, gentle reader] was so much better. I asked him to stop shouting at me. He apologised and then immediately went on about unfair it was and how tired he was and how fed up he was with Hammersmith.

So I shrugged and walked on. Another nutter? Off his head on an illegal substance? Starving and light-headed? I dunno. I really don’t see why I should take personal responsibility for the unfriendly streets around Olympia. So I won’t.

An on a lighter note, this evening was the 7th night in a row that my Piccadilly train terminated at Rayners Lane. In theory a third do so, a third go to Ruislip and a third to Uxbridge. Each night there has been a Ruislip train close behind. So what are the odds on that happening? I have been leaving my office at the same time each night. Does it mean the trains are – GASP – actually running to time? What is the world coming to?

One year on

Happy birthday. This site was born on 18 November 2004. Just one year ago I first began spouting forth. I wrote “…assuming I bother to keep this updated…”. Well, I have. And intend to go on so doing. Thank you and have a good day

A mid-month catch up

Nearly two weeks since my last missive. The weather has turned colder and the leaves are falling, many of them into my pond. No reports of trains unexpectedly delayed by leaves on the line but there’s plenty of time. The Piccadilly has been reasonable and I’ve only submitted one Customer Charter claim, more through exasperation than because of a serious delay. They announced that a good service was operating and simultaneously turned an Uxbridge train round at Acton Town without apology or explanation. This used to happen more often than it does now but it still grates, because they normally do it when there are already gaps in the service and therefore they create an even longer gap for those of us travelling out of London and going beyond Rayners Lane.
Anyway the latest scare is bird flu. Nice piece in the Guardian pointing out that “experts” always predict millions of deaths from any new disease and it rarely turns out that way. This however does not make me feel better when sitting next to someone who is sneezing. In a crowded tube carriage you cannot choose your neighbours and you must, perforce, inhale the air expelled those around you.

And now the big pre-Christmas question. Should I finally invest in an mp3 player to help while away the dull hours pacing up and down cold and deserted platforms (some exaggeration here: Ed) No, Ed, it certainly feels like hours, it’s alright for you nit-picking my finely chiselled prose from your warm office. But we digress. I’ve got loads of radio recordings, so much more soothing and rewarding for listening in a confined space than music. It’s the headphones that put me off. I’ve tried a radio (yes I know the reception on trains is appalling) and the little ear buds kept falling out. More research is needed. But I fancy a Creative Zen 20gb micro – capable of holding all my radio stuff plus music CDs and best of all it’s not an ipod. I shall go have a good look at Ebay and report back when there are developments.

Wither Halloween (I hope)

Into November and the curse of Halloween seems to be wearing off. <northern voice on> When I were a lad, we had no truck with these faked up Yankee commercial junkets <back to normal rather posh sounding standard English accent> no, we had Guy Fawkes night to look forward to and there was excitement from the moment the first fireworks appeared in the local newsagents. Pocket money was saved, window displays drooled over, leaves gathered and old clothes for a guy begged. October 31 meant nothing at all to us.

Then in recent years thanks to the impact of American TV and the ghastly supermarket marketing campaigns (Sainsburys – buy scary veg, uggh) designed to shift pumpkins, a food nobody eats and nobody likes, coupled with the realisation by kids that this was another way to get money from strangers, not to mention the implicit threat of violence behind “trick or treat”, one has begun to dread the knock on the door at night on Halloween. At least carol singers announce their presence first and don’t demand money with menaces (not in Ruislip anyway, we are much too genteel for doorstep thuggery from men in cassocks).

This year however, we were visited only by four small children, shepherded by an adult (and at such an early hour I was not even home, so thanks to Mrs Commuter for this report). Perhaps people are getting bored with it. The origins of Halloween lie of course both in pagan and medieval Christian practices and are not as alien as may appear, but the Americanisation of it really does irritate. The original idea that on All Hallows Eve one may commune with the dead is a fairly spooky idea but this has been lost in a mush of confusion about witches and vampires and those sodding pumpkins. Not that Nov 5th has retained much of its original meaning, the spontaneous lighting of fires by Londoners when the news about the foiling of the gunpowder plot was announced. Now it is just an excuse for fireworks and fires, but bonfires are so apt at this time of the year, especially with the darker evenings as the clocks go back, that it works and has an enduring appeal.

Having a laugh

There were no warnings of problems on the LU website but when I arrived at Barons Court yesterday evening there was a warning about a fire alert at Hyde Park posted just ten minutes earlier. Great. I’d left specially early, still getting over a cold, and the last thing I needed was to hang about on a cold platform.

A District Line, to Ealing, came in. I took it to Hammersmith since there is no point in expecting any usable information at Barons Court. And lo, after I had descended from said train and after it shut the doors, they announced that all travellers for Rayners Lane and Ruislip should take the District Line to Acton.  Well not worry, at least there was a Piccadilly (bound for Heathrow, of course) waiting in the sidings at Hammersmith. Quite unusual that, I can hardly recall another incident when they used that siding. It came in a few moments later and the driver reassured us that there were trains for Ruislip waiting at Acton Town.

So we all get out at Acton Town and after a few minutes they announce the arrival of a Ruislip bound train. Except that when it arrives the lights are off and the destination sign is blank. I know this to be the sign of a train that is out of service. But not the station announcer. We all wait for another five minutes before he tells us that the train is defective. At exactly that time another Piccadilly pulls in on the adjacent westbound platform with “not in service” as its destination. Yes, folks, there is a problem on the line and the reaction of the line controller is to pull trains out of service. Not, as you might dare to imagine, at least to try to run one train to take delayed passengers on their journey.

Anyway the drivers and staff who hang about at the foot of the steps at Acton Town were having a great time. They stood in the doorway of the cabs and on the platform and laughed and joked with the announcer and the man with the clipboard who assigns drivers (this station being one of the main centres for drivers starting and finishing shifts). And those of us waiting around laughed and joked as well. Actually that’s not true. We stood and shrugged our shoulders and looked despairingly at the sky. But, you know, so long as the staff have a good time then really it’s all worth it. Isn’t it?