Weekend Transport

What happens to my local train line on a Sunday? Does it stay out too late the previous night? Is it sulking with a hangover back in the yard? All I know is no matter what weekend you want to travel; my local trains will have transformed into a bus replacement service which will thoughtfully add an extra hour or two to your journey for you to admire the scenery.

It all started so well…

I had stayed with my good friend R the previous night; we had drank mulled wine and let off some small fireworks in her garden in a totally girlie sort of way (‘eek! Is it lit? It’s not lighting… ooo it’s fizzing – RUN!’ We stampede to the other end of the garden and turn to watch a tiny little fizzy thing shoot little stars a foot high.). It was great fun, and today we stomped around a heath-y park near her, managed with luck more than judgement to be silent at 11am for Remembrance Sunday, and a little while later she waved me off on a bus.

And there it began.

The bus went approximately four stops down the road, and then the police stopped it, as there was a Remembrance Sunday parade coming down the road we wanted, and therefore all traffic was suspended for the foreseeable future. This was fine, I didn’t mind about that, but what I did mind was that the bus driver parked and told us we might as well get off. There was no alternative route planned, no diversion; the bus company was not prepared for this in the slightest. That was that, as far as this bus was concerned. Hometime. See ya, losers.

So, since no other bus went anywhere near where I needed to go, I ended up having to walk all the way back to the train station, and catch a train into Kings Cross in London, so I could get another train back out to where I live. Only there wasn’t one, as per. If anyone heard a deep sigh at around 1pm today it was me, as I descended the stairs to the underground. I ended up getting a tube as near as I could to where I live, and then had to wait for another bus to take me further, and finally I had a nice 20 minute stomp to my flat. All in all, a journey that should have taken me an hour took me three! I was not a happy bunny.

But maybe this is London transport’s revenge since I no longer commute in the week… ‘get her at the weekend’, it mutters. Okay, I hold my hand up, London Transport. I have been truly got. Can bygones be bygones? Please?