Tag: London (page 5 of 6)

£13,192 – that’s a large amount of money isn’t it?

Well, that’s roughly what I’ve spent commuting to London over the last 34 months. That’s an average of £388 a month and that excludes taxis to and from the station and other travel related expense.

What is most galling about such a significant expenditure is that I have nothing to show for it; I might as well have burnt the money.

Even more annoying is that the quality of service received for such a big payment is truly shocking. My train trip takes just under an hour and generally I have to catch a train of ancient vintage with tiny seats and no air conditioning, whilst the nice new Virgin trains whoosh by at high speed not stopping in Milton Keynes because it isn’t profitable enough. Isn’t it supposed to be public transport?

I caught better trains in India for fricks sake.

Then there is the underground… Always packed and I mean absolutely wedged against the next sweating and sadly stinking person. The tube trains are very often late, slow or just plain non-existent.

Since I have been travelling to London the underground have been running the same ‘hot weather advice’ posters stating that they are investigating ways of making the underground cooler but in the mean time I should carry a bottle of water to stop me feinting. So not only do I have to spend £388 a month on the ticket I then need to spend even more on water to stop me dieing.

If we were shipping animals around in these conditions I bet there would be outcry and ourage but not for us poor humans that have to pay for it…

London was again a victim of bomb attacks today.

Three tubes and a bus were targeted, but this time the terrorists were even bigger amateurs and did not successfully detonate one of the bombs.

Warren Street tube station was targeted; a station I pass through everyday on my way to work.

I had to walk some of the way to Euston tonight, here is a shot of Warren Street tube station.

I didn’t realise just how close it is to Euston.

We were finally allowed out of the building around 15:30 shortly after the news that Euston station had reopened.

There was no other way across London other than to walk which is what I did.

Clutching my A to Z I walked past Buckingham Palace and the Mall decked out in Union Jack flags to celebrate the end of WW2. Then up through St James and into a strangely quiet Regents Street.

For those that haven’t been to London Regents Street is one of the main shopping streets and usually exceptionally busy with both people and traffic. Today there were no busses, no taxis and only the odd car.

I was reminded of War Of The Worlds with people fleeing London in a ‘mass exodus’.

As I got closer to Euston the crowds of people walking become greater as they funnelled into the street leading to the station.

I was expecting chaos at the station and a long wait for a train, but it couldn’t have been more different; I stepped straight onto a train and was home in 35 minutes.

It was a monumental day in many many ways.

A day that makes you realise or reinforce who and what is precious to you.

I’m feeling sick at the moment.

My geography of London is rather poor and I was actually quite proud to have found my way almost to where I work.

I’ve just seen a news report showing where the bomb blasts were.

I could of easily walked out of Euston and straight down towards Russel Square where the bus bomb was. Luckily I headed out the side of Euston and walked down Great Portland.

That feels far too close for comfort.

I commute into London on a daily basis.

I arrived at Euston station just after 9am this morning to find them shutting the underground station access and telling us that the main underground lines are shut for the day.

I realised from this that it might be a big problem or alert but wished that I had known then how bad it was so that I could have turned around and gone home.

I decided that queuing for a cab inside a station during a possible security situation would be a bad idea and so thought I’d start walking and look for a cab on the street.

I got as far as St James Palace before I finally got a cab and started to learn what had happened from my cabby.

I’m now in my work building in Victoria and we’re being told not to leave the building.

The tube, busses and overland trains are all stopped.

At this point getting home may be difficult so we have booked hotel rooms just in case.

I feel very distant and isolated from my family who are safely 50 miles north of London.

As I was walking I tried repeatedly to call or text my wife but could not get anything through. When I finally got to the office and spoke to her she was in tears of relief.

Today is not a good day.

I caught the train to Brighton from London the other day and was struck by the Victoriana that one sees on this journey.

Ironically, despite its name, Victoria Station is the least Victorian feeling part of the trip. Victoria is a very average station not a Victorian masterpiece like St Pancras with it’s amazing glass and metal arched roof.

The train quickly escapes London passing the amazing Battersea Power Station as it goes – no flying pigs however – and out in the suburbs. The suburbs are quickly followed by the countryside and it is this phase of the journey that feels so Victorian.

There is a viaduct that rises above a small valley that has regular castellated buttresses along its length; they serve no useful purpose that I can see they appear to be there as decoration only in that marvellous Victorian way of doing things because they could.

The viaduct is completely overshadowed by a fortress of a tunnel a short timer later.The entrance to the tunnel has a small castle or fort with windows and a castellated top built above it; rising some 40 to 50 feet above the tunnel opening. Only the Victorians would have built something so amazing and yet so folly like. A simple brick lined tunnel would have worked but the Victorians built a majestic fort protecting the route to Brighton.

It can’t be coincidence that this must have been the route the British Royal Family took to Brighton when it was in favour with them; a connection that resulted in the even more outlandish Brighton Pavilion.

Altogether a very Victorian trip to the coast.