A Day Out to the Capital

Yesterday we took our son to the Natural History Museum in London. It's been years since I last visited the museum - I think I was at junior school during the early eighties.
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.

We have the technology...

We have all seen in stark clarity one of the worst rail disasters of the modern age. Quite how something so terrible could happen despite the technology and fail safe systems available to us today, is frankly incredible and does fill me with a sense of anger and frustration.
There can be no doubt that the tragedy was caused by excessive speed. You don't need to be a rail industry expert to see that something travelling so fast around so tight a bend will try to leave its tracks. After all, the only thing holding the train to the track is gravity - nothing else. I know, as does many a youngster, how easy it is to crash a model train on a tight bend. Go too fast and off it comes, and it did often, much to the frustration of my father who would have to put the train back on the track each time.
Something clearly went seriously wrong. Why did the safety systems fail and how was it possible for a driver with, so it is claimed, so much experience to drive his train at such speed into a bend that already had gained notoriety for its extreme curvature?
It would be so easy to fit a system that automatically reduced the train speed in time for the bend, overriding the regulator, until it was safe for the driver to resume control. This technology exists - and it is used. We only have to look at our own driver-less Docklands Light Railway to know that it works - and has done very well for many years. A roller coaster has this technology fitted by standard. I find tragedies like this, and the needless loss of life, harder to accept as it would have been so easy to prevent the train from going too fast.
As with all tragedies, we need to learn lessons from them and this is no exception. But in my mind, the lesson is a simple one, and that's simply to use the technology we have.

A Day Trip to York

We finally had our day trip to York. We were determined to do it while our son was on his summer school holiday, after all we'd been unable to take him anywhere else due to the ridiculous inflated cost of doing anything.
A week ago, we had decided to invest in a family railcard. My wife had been told by one of her customers that it would save as much as 50% on standard fares and that in a short time it would pay for itself. The railcard was £28 and it arrived in a couple of days. We booked the tickets on line and using the railcard, we did indeed manage to reduce our fare - two adults and one child, Peterborough to York return - from £145 to £68, a huge saving. We would never had been able to afford the full fare and to be quite honest, even if we had I would have struggled to pay it. So we booked our tickets and arranged for them to be collected from the machine at the station. I had done this before and it's very convenient.
We drove to Peterborough. Being a Sunday, there wasn't a great deal of traffic and in about 40 minutes, we were at the station. There is a large station car park adjacent to the station so we parked in there. They wanted £5.50 for all day parking which I thought to be quite reasonable. Now when I had parked there before, it was possible to exit the car park by a short path that led straight to the station entrance. For some idiotic reason, this had been closed by East Coast and we had to exit the car park by the main road and then walk back down the exit road to the station. Surely this is just a case of sour grapes on the part of East Coast who have their own car park the other end of the station. How utterly petty and ridiculous.

Car park owner Gary McArdle at the pedestrian access point blocked off by East Coast

It's been a while since I've been to Peterborough Station and I was quite shocked to find that it now resembles a flight terminal having received a complete makeover. It now looks clean and slick with barriers and a very attractive customer service desk with smartly dressed staff in attendance. I was very impressed. It looked professional, smart and clean.

We collected our tickets from a very modern looking terminal with a large touch screen interface and were greeted as we passed through the barrier onto the platform. The station and platforms still retain much of their original architecture which was comforting. Not everything had been given a smart clean modern look, but the platforms were nonetheless tidy and free from litter and cigarette butts.
Our train was on time, the 1015 Kings Cross - Edinburgh service calling at Retford and Doncaster before reaching York at 1133. The train was on time and like all trains on the East Coast mainline, it was busy. Luckily we'd had the foresight to reserve our seats which we found very easily in coach C. My wife and son sat together and had a table whereas I was a seat behind on the other side of the coach. They were joined by a grandfather and his granddaughter who were travelling north of Newcastle. The granddaughter was gorgeous, a little younger than my son and they soon became best friends exchanging names, pictures and the sort of information known only to children of that age. In the seats opposite were a party of four Chinese students and they were enthralled by the young girl. They very kindly offered sweets and one of them drew a very nice caricature for the girl and gave it to her as a gift. How nice it was to be on a train with such nice friendly people. So the whole journey was very pleasant. I could see my son and his companion from my seat and my wife was able to glance over to me. I was seated next to a father. His son and daughter sat in the seats opposite me and they were clearly wealthy and very much in tune with current technology. The daughter appeared to be of similar age to my son and she spent the journey glued to her iPad wearing Bose headphones and watching a film. Her brother sat playing a game and flicking through apps on his iPhone. Their father meanwhile played a game on his Nintendo DS whilst trying to rest his head using an inflatable cushion he had brought for the journey. I began to wish I had brought my Kindle along for the journey and I felt a little out of place simply leafing my way through my copy of the Sunday Express. I was struck by the amount of technology around about me. The welcome message via the speaker system from the 'train manager' was warm and inviting and even refered to power points being available at every seat for portable devices and laptops, and even free WIFI available throughout the train. How things have changed.
We soon reached York and saying our farewells to our temporary companions, we stayed on the platform to wave to them as the train departed to continue its journey north. I could see that my son was already overwhelmed. York is one of the largest stations in the country and he was struggling to take in all that was happening all around him.
We exited the station and decided to take the sightseeing bus for a trip around York. It was mild and sunny so the perfect weather to sit on the top deck. My son very excited and really enjoyed the experience. An audio commentary explained about what we were seeing and the bus made its way in and out of the historic wall, past the York castle and museum and onto the Terry's chocolate factory, closed for many years and now awaiting transformation into a shopping complex and hotel.
In just under an hour, we were back at the station and we decided to walk the short distance to the Railway Museum, for me the highlight of our visit. I have been a few times in the past, and on each visit, the museum has looked different. The latest changes have resulted in a large reference area and library and the addition of an outside area where train rides are provided and a family area has been created. It has certainly made the place more family-friendly which is a good thing. The ability to step outside and sit in a quiet grassed area was very welcome, particularly as it was a very warm humid sort of day. We had some lunch outside and my son and I enjoyed a ride on a miniature train and a short ride hauled by Stephenson's Rocket, one of the first steam locomotives ever built.

The Railway Museum is a place I can spend many hours in. There is so much to see and do. The workshop contained two of the country's most famous and most loved locomotives - Mallard and Flying Scotsman - both of which were being repainted. I tried explaining to my son the significance of these two beautiful engines but I think it was rather lost on him as he detoured to the next interactive exhibit. Maybe in a few years...

Being accompanied by my son and wife meant that I couldn't spend as long as I wanted at each exhibit. I held them up each time and felt compelled to keep up with them. The museum was certainly bigger and better than ever and I felt sure that I would return again.
On our way to the museum, my son had spotted the road train, a service run by the museum to York Minster. It was waiting to leave when we left the museum so we hopped on for the short trip to the magnificent cathedral. The bells were in full peel as we approached and tourists filled the area, eagerly photographing the architecture of the Minster as it towered above us glowing in the bright sunshine.

We had a short walk through the ancient streets with their quaint shops and street artists. Sweet enticing aromas drifted from the shop entrances as we passed and served to remind me that we were in a special place surrounded by many hundreds of years of history.

We decided a take another open top bus trip as our ticket entitled us to unlimited travel. This time we had a tour guide who sat at the front with a microphone providing an excellent narration as we twisted our way through the narrow roads and past the ancient buildings and monuments. It struck me as we made our way how much lower the old buildings are to the rest of the city. This we were told is due to the many years of demolishing and rebuilding resulting in most of the modern city sitting several feet higher than the old. Another feature of York are the black cats, many of which can be found in different positions on many of the buildings. No one knows the origin of these black cats and why they are there, but I soon found myself scanning each building to find them.

The bus stopped at the station and we checked the times for the trains back to Peterborough. The platform was busy, many people with cases or backpacks full to bursting. The display board showed there was a train due and another half an hour later. When the train did arrive, we could see it was very full and many of those boarding would have to stand, so we decided to wait for the next one. We weren't in a hurry after all, and I do enjoy sitting on platforms watching the trains come and go and the variety of different people. The next train arrived, but was running a little late. A problem with water meant it had to wait for a delivery to arrive and this train too was very full. We also discovered it wasn't stopping on its way to Kings Cross so we waited for the next one. As we had an open return ticket, we couldn't reserve our seats so when we boarded our train back to Peterborough, all the seats we found to be reserved so we had to perch in the vestibule at the end of the coach. After a while my legs began to tire so I sat on the floor for a while. Most uncomfortable. In hindsight, we should have reserved seats but this would have meant making sure we were at the station for a particular train. It's something we'll certainly do in future, as I know these trains are normally very full at the best of times.
We were back in Peterborough for about 6.30pm and stopped for something to eat on the way home.

Paralympic Welcome, Tentative York & Longing for Security

Once again, we produced an epic opening ceremony, this time for the Paralympic Games. Though not on quite the same scale as the Olympic opening ceremony, it was nonetheless fully attended and watched by millions across the country. Channel 4 have the broadcast rights to the Paralympics and though their coverage was very good, much criticism has been made of the decision to include numerous advertisement breaks during the event. Twitter was awash with comments deploring Channel 4 for the decision and I have to admit that I was one of those contributing to the protests. Being one of the largest and most significant events Channel 4 has broadcast since it launched in 1982, I would really have expected the channel to forgo the revenue from the numerous car ads in favour of showing the whole event uninterrupted.
For me, the event was very moving. The sight of hundreds of disabled athletes, proud to be representing their countries and being celebrated was magnificent. The choreography was world class and complimented with a commentary by Stephen Hawking. The athletes were proud the be there, and it showed.

Tomorrow, we had hoped to be taking our son to York for the first time. My wife and I have been to York on a couple of occasions and have enjoyed it very much. There's something about the place that you can't quite put your finger on, but I do have a particular fondness for the history, architecture and of course the wonderful Railway Museum.
I've mentioned before the prohibitive cost of rail travel and the return fare being £145 for the three of us. Now, to me this seems expensive. Perhaps I'm simply out of touch with current public transport costs. But when I compare this to the cost of travelling by car, about £35, it really does seem excessive. We are rather hoping that my in-laws will lend us the money until my expenses arrive for my NHS work. This would allow us to get there and back, and a packed lunch would negate the need to buy food. It's touch and go at the moment whether we'll go or not but if we're able to, I know my son will love it.

I've written about having to keep a diary noting activities and my anxiety and depression levels. This is for the CBT therapy I'm having in Spalding. I'm a little concerned that when I have my next session on the 18th September (when my therapist returns from her holiday to Mexico), there won't be a great deal for her to analyse. I've actually been feeling quite good for the last few weeks. I certainly haven't had any depressive episodes and my anxiety levels have been pretty much level. This may be due to the fact that I'm finding things to occupy me, or simply that there haven't been any triggers to set me off. The one constant thing on my mind is the Bank and whether they will allow us to continue contributing to the mortgage. I worry daily that there will either be a letter or phone call requesting me to contact them. If and when it comes, I will need to ask them to extend the period further. My biggest fear is that they will say no. I may be worrying for no reason as I've been told by so many people that provided we are paying something, they cannot do anything and as the house value is decreasing, they are unlikely to try to turf us out to sell on. Common sense tells me this is the likely outcome but I still worry. At least this time round I can tell them I am officially an NHS Volunteer, so I'm doing something productive. Although I'm not being paid anything - just my expenses - I am hopeful that it will develop into something permanent. Working in some kind of mental health support role within the NHS is my current aim. The question is how long we can survive for until something happens?