Saturday dawned far too early for my liking, but after a lot of moaning and groaning on my part we were on the road and heading for the station. We travelled First Class to Birmingham on a 350; I wasn't impressed because it felt cramped and it looked shabby, but at least it was quiet and we had an uneventful journey arriving in Birmingham slightly late.
I hadn't travelled on a refurbished HST before so I was looking forward to it. I'd been underwhelmed by the livery but I'd heard good things about the refurbishment and was keen to see it for myself. The first problem we encountered was the platforming, it was rubbish, the signage was wrong, leaving us sprinting down the platform to find first class. The platform staff were neither use than ornament - certainly not ornament!
The train looked OK except for the horrible colour of the upholstery and the hideous curtains that looked as if they had been cut down from an old woman's crimpelene dress. The antimacassars looked good, very simple and tasteful, which is more than I can say for the carpet which was too 'busy' and not dark enough, it already looked dirty and shabby. The seats are fairly comfortable if you happen to be a giant, but it is impossible to use the table comfortably because the distance between the seat and the table is to great. I am a bit on the short side but not abnormally short for an adult, so I was annoyed to find that my feet didn't reach the floor when I sat down. The seats were adjustable but unfortunately it required more height than I possessed as your rear end had to be in the seat and your feet in contact with the floor to achieve the required thrusting motion. This was the first of many clues that it had been designed by a man!
Clue number two came when I visited the toilets. They are 'cosy' but I guess there is adequate space for the average contortionist to cope with the 'essentials'. It wasn't the space that bothered me as much as the poor design, the unpleasant smell and the dirty state of the facilities. The toilet tissue does not dispense correctly, it comes out in handfuls, but then it will not flush away. The sink is too low even for someone as short as me! It is not possible to see how the soap dispenser works, so you have to put your hand into the gap and feel around for the soap. This triggers the automatic tap and rewards you with wet cuffs. Then when you have wet hands you have to battle with a towel dispenser that dispenses small soggy strips of tissue, so you have to reach in and grab a few towels. For some reason the towel dispenser is above the sink so while you are doing battle with it the water from your wet hands runs down your arms and drips off your elbows! The final insult was the bin, the gap is too small to put the used paper towels in without pushing your clean fingers into the bin. I returned to my seat with wet cuffs, damp sleeves and soggy elbows, thankful that I had hand sanitizer in my handbag because I had no intention of using that sink again.
It was the bumpiest journey I have ever experienced and I didn't feel safe, even Robbie said it was a bad journey. I wanted to get off but Robbie reassured me that it would be OK.
We lost time at Cheltenham. I thought we had slipped into a parallel universe. The train stopped and the dispatcher came wandering down the stairs looking as if he had escaped from a home for the bewildered and was about ready to be dispatched himself. When he had plodded down the platform and remembered what he was there for we departed several minutes late. There was a really cute dispatcher at Bristol so that was some compensation.
Robbie had to sprint off the train at Bristol because nobody delivered the urns to the train so there had been no hot drinks available between Manchester and Bristol. Apparently the previous week there were no hot drinks available all the way from Manchester to Newquay! There had been a mix up with the reservations too, they had labelled up for the wrong train meaning that a whole first carriage was rendered unusable as the seats were labelled up for people on a different route!
As I was gazing out of the train window my eye fell on the paper notice Headed Manchester Picadilly - Newquay, I wondered why it was necessary to list the starting point, after all even the most 'challenged' traveller knows where they are when they start their journey!
We were delayed from Dawlish onward by an HST in front that was busy going nowhere. Robbie was getting seriously irritated about his timing being messed up, but it was nice to crawl along and enjoy the wonderful views. I couldn't believe that there were so many cranks scattered along the line just to take photos of an HST - what a waste of a Saturday!
We arrived at Plymouth a few minutes late and I begged Robbie to let us travel home on a Voyager, but he wouldn't hear of it. My verdict on the journey, a thumbs down to the refurbished HST and a huge thumbs down to the catering trolley. However there were highlights, the staff were all friendly and helpful and the views from the sea wall at Dawlish were as wonderful as ever.
We spent the day in Plymouth, then we set out on our return journey to Birmingham. My legs were OK just dangling for a while, but then they began to ache and by Taunton they were swollen and painful, so I had to rest them on a rucksack. We saw a kettle at Taunton, Oliver Cromwell, it looked amazing
The ride back was every bit as bumpy, I would much rather travel on a Voyager or a Pendolino, but it was a nice day out. Robbie says I am mad, apparently I don't know a good thing when I see it, he still thinks HST's are wonderful. He says we have to do the journey again soon to check that some of the problems have been put right (he is determined to make me like HST's), but he has promised to take me on a Pendolino next, so I am looking forward to that.
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