What goes on in his head?

It was 8.30am on Saturday morning and I was tired of waiting for Robbie to wake up, so I decided to wake him up. He seemed oblivious of the first two or three prods, then suddenly he turned over and said "That's a surprise, there were no announcements". I asked what he was talking about and he said that he dreamt that Google had a new operating platform and he was trying to work it out. Not for the first time it left me wondering what goes on in that man's head. I have never knowingly had a dream about Google, in fact I haven't given it a passing thought. What sort of person  dreams about Google for heaven sake!!


We had to go shopping for a gift for Robbie's new nephew. I was tempted by the usual sort of baby designs but Robbie was attracted to the more colourful designs. We couldn't agree, but then Robbie spotted a blue all in one with a Thomas the Tank Engine design and his mind was made up, apparently you are never too young for trains!! I know when I'm defeated, but I made sure that we found a cute cuddly elephant for the baby too.


Robbie spent most of the day planning and re planning the best route to south Staffordshire. I wondered why it was proving so hard to plan a train journey, I know it was a bank holiday weekend, but surely it shouldn't be that difficult. Eventually all became clear; he could take a more direct route and have time to eat with me before he left, but if he took the more contorted route via Walsall he could do a bit of bus spotting as well! If time had been on his side I think the buses would have won, but in the end he chose to spend a little longer with me so that we could go and eat.


I dropped Robbie off at the station in good time for his train and I drove off to do some shopping and to enjoy a few hours of peace and quiet. The peace and quiet didn't last long, when I got home my son had taken control of the television and I had to endure his viewing choices all evening. Well I didn't have to, but it would have been unkind to object when there was nothing that I wanted to watch. I occupied myself with family history research on the internet and before long I had 'zoned out' the junk on television. Meanwhile Robbie was at a family party to celebrate the wedding of his nephew (a different nephew, not the newborn one!!) according to his texts he was having a great time, but he had to admit that he is getting old - the music was too loud!! Maybe it wasn't such a hardship to put up with junk television after all, at least I could control the volume! 

From the Top of the Bus

A few weeks ago when I was writing about Robbie's passion for old buses I remembered catching the bus to town with my aunt when I was very young. Usually she would allow me to go up to the top deck and sit at the front. I liked this because I was high enough to see things that I couldn't possibly see from the pavement. If  we walked into town we would stop on the bridge close to the station and my aunt would support me as I scrambled up to look over the wall and down on the station below. I wanted to stay there to watch all the comings and goings at the station, but I was never allowed to. The top deck of the bus allowed me to take a longer look at the station below and if the bus drove slowly enough and had to queue at the junction, I could look across and get a glimpse of the goods yard. The station yard always fascinated me because I could hear the trains from my home. The noises seemed more noticeable when I went to bed at night and I often asked my mum what the trains were doing. Her answer was always the same, shunting, it was probably the only railway related word that she could think of. When I asked what shunting was I got a very sketchy answer, so I was always keen to see the goods yard and see this mysterious 'shunting' with my own eyes.

Thinking about those days so far back in my memory prompted me to look for pictures of the station back then. Oddly I remember the sounds and smells better than any visual memories of the station at that time. It was redeveloped in 1964/5 (vandalised would be a more accurate term) so it is hardly surprising that my memories are not so clear, I was only 4 in 1965! I can remember feeling very cross with them for what they were doing, I felt as if they were spoiling everything. When the new station was built I still loved to look down at the comings and goings on the platform but I disliked the unfriendly new building. To me it looked as if someone had dumped some ugly farm sheds in the middle of the town. It was probably the first building that I actively disliked.

Looking at the pictures I can see that my childhood instincts were surprisingly accurate. Taking away the old station building and replacing it with little more than a tin shack was an act of vandalism and deeply disrespectful to the town. I travelled by train many times during my childhood and teenage years, and the station was cold, ugly and unwelcoming, the sort of place that you would avoid if you possibly could. It is a little bit better theses days because they had to modernise it some years ago, but there is much truth in the old saying - you can't make a silk purse out of a sow's ear. The only good thing I can say about Northampton Station is that the toilets are adequate and well looked after. 


Now plans are afoot to redevelop the station building and the surrounding area. West Northampton Development Corporation are working with Network Rail on the new development. It is hard to think of an organisation more disliked and distrusted than Network Rail, but West Northamptonshire Development Corporation is 'it', it is loathed and distrusted by locals because of it's high handed ways and the horrible things that it has done to our town. The plans for the new development are horrible, the buildings are ugly, soulless and impractical. They certainly haven't planned it with the needs of local people in mind. It only we could travel back to a time before the old station was demolished and start again, then perhaps we could get it right.


A camel is a horse designed by committee. - Alec Issigonis.