It's some time since I've been on a long journey anywhere, though I do find I tend to enjoy the journey more than the object of our visit. We opted to catch the train from King's Lynn to King's Cross and the journey was problem free until we had reached the section of line between New Barnet and Alexandra Palace where engineering works had overrun. Here we were delayed about 50 minutes while we were forced to reverse back to New Barnet and on to another line before continuing our journey at reduced speed to King's Cross.
King's Cross has changed a lot since I was last there. I think there was a lot of improvement work going on when I last visited London as I recall the building being covered in scaffolding. The station resembles a flight terminal more than a train station. It is smart, clean and efficient though there were two things missing - bins and seats. The absence of bins is a sad indictment of the age we live in and our understandable paranoia following the events of 2005. The absence of seats is something I find more difficult to understand - it was impossible to sit down and improvisation was everywhere with people perched on whatever they could find or sat on cases and jackets.
Our first visit was to the Harry Potter Platform 9 3/4 where a huge number of people were queueing to have their photograph taken with the infamous 'trolley in the wall'. Like anything that has the potential of making money, this has now become a cash cow with a professional photographer charging £8 per photo. Looking at the number of people queueing, I wouldn't be surprised if more than £10k a day is taken from domestic and international tourists desperate for their chance to be photographed at the iconic spot. After queueing for what seemed an eternity, my son had his moment of fame clutching the trolley with his scarf of choice around his neck.
The Harry Potter shop was far smaller than I'd imagined it would be. It nevertheless stood as a temple to the many hundreds of Potter fanatics who are drawn to it ever hour seeking wands, broomsticks, pens, postcards and other trademarked trinkets at vastly inflated prices.
It was here that we collected our photograph, presented in a smart Hogwarts frame and handed over £16 for two prints - one for us and one for my in-laws.
The Natural History Museum was a few stops westward on the Piccadilly Line and we sat amongst seasoned travellers well accustomed to Tube etiquette some staring straight ahead, some immersed in their favourite novel and others eyes closed able to switch off from the noise around them. It was probably obvious that we were strangers. We looked interested and we reassured ourselves by announcing each station name as we arrived. I really don't cope well with crowds and confined spaces so I was pleased when we had finally arrived at our South Kensington destination. As with the overground, the underground has changed a lot since my last journey on the Tube. It is clean, slick and efficient with trains just a minute or two apart.
Departing the station, the Museum was just a minute's walk from the exit and we joined another long queue of people made up of visitors from home and abroad. Many clutched cameras though it was clear that the majority are content to use their smart phones, instantly uploading their snaps to Facebook, Twitter or Instagram for the world to see and comment on.
Thankfully, we didn't have to wait long before we entered. As with everything in London, the Museum and its exhibits have grown in size - massively. There is so much to see and do, and considering admission is free it's frankly incredible given this age of over-charging and inflated prices.
To fully appreciate everything that's on offer, a full day is needed - and this was with one of the newest exhibits about our home planet closed until September. The only down-side to the visit was the sheer number of people - the museum was pretty much full to capacity and it was warm, very warm. I can only imagine at the height of our recent heat wave, that a visit to the museum would have been quite unbearable. I was struggling with a mild 22 degrees!
By 4.30, we had seen everything and our legs were telling us it was time to head for home. My ability to endure long spells without a seat has suffered during the last ten years and my back was crying out for its all too regular fix of Tramadol.
Fearing the earlier engineering works would have caused major disruption, we were surprised to find that all the services from King's Cross were running to time. Again I was struck by the huge number of people patiently stood or sat on the floor staring at the vast departures and arrivals board. Our service for King's Lynn wasn't due to leave for another hour so we bought some drinks and tried to make ourselves comfortable, but this was a fruitless task given the acute lack of seating. Instead, we made our way back to the Harry Potter shop as my son had decided he wanted a poster.
Negotiating our way through the crowds, we reached the shop and I opted to wait outside as my wife and son were swallowed up to emerge a few minutes later poster in hand. Needing hydration, we headed for W.H. Smith, a stalwart of every mainline rail terminal. The unmistakable smell of new books and newsprint is quintessentially British yet self-service it seems has found its way into the nation's favourite newsagent and an assistant ushered the impatient and hurried to the next available machine herding them like cattle. This was no place for anyone who simply wanted to pause and look, you simply had to join the stream of people bound for the exit.
By now, our train service home had been assigned a platform, it would be platform 8 where our train was sat its face blackened by the many insects that had strayed into its high speed path. We knew to head for the first 4 coaches as these would become separated from the rest of the train at Cambridge to continue its journey to the end of the line at King's Lynn.
The journey home was fast - everyone wanted to get home including the driver. Looking around our coach, I wasn't the only person washed-out from our trip to London. Everyone it seemed looked tired, and some had no problem sleeping - practised at blocking out the sounds of travelling by train and the beeping and whistling of the smart phone. Cambridge soon arrived and with it my own memories of being stranded on a freezing winter's evening during my working past, feeling lost and not knowing when I would be back in my warm home. Those still asleep were soon awoken by a sudden jolt as the train was pulled apart.
The relatively short distance between Cambridge and King's Lynn, its flat scenery all around, was made to feel a lot longer by stops at every station where our train deposited the majority of its weary passengers.
It wasn't long before we were at King's Lynn and the end of the line. A half hour drive and we'd be home. How quiet everything is compared to where we had been. It's a different world down there. A visit every so often is fine, but could I live there? No.
No comments:
Post a Comment