Yesterday passed me by in a blur of agony. Clearly I insulted my flu bug by referring to it as 'just a cold' on the blog on Thursday, and it decided to show me exactly who was boss. By Thursday evening everything ached and my thermostat had gone mad, and by Friday morning I was ready to curl up and die. It is now Saturday evening, I am still feeling fragile and breathing is a bit of a challenge, but at least I can face the bright lights of the computer again. So rather than dwell on my aches and pains I will write about something completely different instead.
Last week Robbie took me to Birmingham for the evening. This may not sound very exciting but it is a big event for me because it involves passing through that God forsaken place known as New Street Station – I really hate it and I avoid it at all costs. Our journey started at Northampton Station, it is a while since I have been there and it will be a while before I go there again, the parking charge is a rip off! I hoped it would be a more pleasant experience than when it was in the hands of Silverlink. The best thing about the station was the hot chocolate from the coffee shop. The station staff seemed a little more cheerful and they has swapped the severe 'border guard' look of the Silverlink uniform for the 'slept in look' of what must be the most boring uniform ever. The station itself looks more unloved and shabby than ever, I'm not sure anyone could love a building that looks and feels like a farm shed, but I feel sad that this is the first impression that travellers get of my home town. Oh well, it could be worse, Coventry station takes 'grim' to a whole new level.
The journey to Birmingham was good, we travelled on a 350, it was surprisingly comfortable and it was a pleasant journey. I can't complain, but however perverse it sounds I miss the good old 321's and I miss the Silverlink livery that always reminded me of a Cadburys Dairy Milk wrapper. So there you are you have proof that Robbie is not the only weird one in our family when it comes to trains. All good things come to an end and all too soon I found myself in New Street Station. It didn't seem to have changed, there were the usual announcements about platform alterations and breathless and confused passengers with a demented look in their eyes sprinting from platform to platform in search of their trains. I know they have to announce platform changes, delays and assorted misery, but why do thy choose someone with such a grating voice that it sounds like nails being dragged over a blackboard?
We made our escape from the gloom of the station to the grim reality of the street. I never feel safe in Birmingham and I struggled to keep pace with Robbie, nothing would slow him down because he was heading in the direction of food. He took me to The Big Wok because he was sure I would like it – I didn't really, but to be fair I was probably coming down with the flu by then. Robbie made up for my lack of enthusiasm, in the interests of good taste I will not detail all that he ate but I can't resist mentioning the beef curry. I watched him polish it off incredibly fast, it looked as if he was melting like an ice cube in the sun, but he said he enjoyed it. I am sure that man would eat absolutely anything!
We enjoyed our evening out at the theatre, but afterwards we had to head back to the glories of New Street Station. The 'welcoming committee' defending the ticket barriers looked distinctly unapproachable and uninterested. Their uniform also had that 'slept in look' - obviously London Midland are a bit lacking in the imagination and style department! We had a while to wait for our train but I was happy enough on the platform watching the train dispatcher (he was rather nice) and having a good look at the 323 that was waiting to depart. The London Midland livery was hideous, the world should not have to endure that much green, but as soon as the engine started I cold tell that under all that war paint it was still the loveable, quirky 323. I love the way it sounds like a slot machine when it pulls away, you can hear it best from inside the train, but even from the platform there was no mistaking the sound.
Finally our Pendolino arrived and we were safely settled on board. For the first time that evening I felt safe, I'm not sure what it is about Virgin, but I love travelling on their trains. Unfortunately we had to abandon the Pendolino at Rugby in favour of a smelly old coach. Virgin failed to announce that passengers for Northampton needed to leave the train at Rugby, but at least they had a couple of friendly looking 'care bears' on the platform to point us in the right direction. Rugby Station looks like a bomb site, hopefully it will all come good in the end, but it is hard to imagine it happening in my lifetime! The coach journey was cramped, uncomfortable and scary, the driver threw it around as if his sole intention was to scare us to death. We arrived at Northampton safe but shell shocked, and I can honestly say I have never been so glad to see my car and to feel in control once more.
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