Saturday social

Despite my grumbles about it, which, it has to be said are regular and heartfelt, I do generally think that London Transport is a pretty good system. I can't think of another major British city of any size that I should be happy to live in for 25 years without daily access to a car.

That said, it is my burden to be living at a time when the underground particularly, is aged and falling apart; it needs and is slowly receiving, massive investment to bring it up to date. The downside of all this good work, is the necessary closures for engineering works. It is a rare piece of good fortune in these matters on my part, that the derailment of a train and consequent closure of the Northern Line between High Barnet and (probably) Finchley Central happened and was sorted before I moved to points north in 2005. I know that several of my friends found themselves reliant for several months on alternative forms of transport and these are relatively slow and awkward in this part of the city.




The point behind this, is to set my next grumble in context. Yesterday we went to Reading for snorkel_maiden and tjrobinson's 4th of July barbecue. Getting to Paddington for the train out to Reading is always a chore at the best of times. As it happens yesterday was not the best of times. We already knew that the Northern Line was closed between High Barnet and Finchley Central for engineering works, so we took the 263 down to East Finchley and picked up the train there. That added about 15 minutes to the journey for a start. What we didn't know though, was that the Northern Line platforms (only) at King's Cross were closed, so we were faced with the option of wandering around Euston, changing on the the northbound Victoria Line and then going for one stop to King's Cross and changing to one of the Circle, Metropolitan or Hammersmith Lines to get to Paddington. Since the trains were rammed we decided it was better to de-train at Euston and walk to Euston Square to pick up the same trains. Of course, there were reported problems with the Circle Line, though apart increasing the general fret level, had remarkably little effect on us. We ended up on a Hammersmith & Fulham train which got us to Paddington, but of course, that intersects with the main station at the far end of all the platforms and a good walk from the ticket machines. Ho-hum.

Well, we did that and managed to get on a Swansea train pretty sharpish, so that was fine. As usual, the trip from Paddington to Reading was a painless 20 minutes or so, which is a great deal less than the time it took to cover the distance to Paddington.

Any road, that was the journey there and it was no more pleasant on the way back, except that we decided that we would take the Tube-Replacement bus service from Finchley Central, not being sure how frequently the normal bus service runs after midnight.

I have never done the trip from Finchley Central to Whetstone so fast in my life by road. At that time of night the A1000 is pretty empty and the bus driver took full advantage, to Furtle's delight and my consternation. (I was a little worried because I was sitting on the aisle side of the seat and clinging on for dear life as we went around corners in one direction and having my arm scrunched into the metal work by Furtle as we went around corners in the other direction. Inertia and speed are an awesome combination.

There were some blokes on the top deck with us who were rather, er, tired and emotional having clearly sampled many of the inviting hostelries of the West End. As we were speeding up the North Finchley, one pointed out to his mate that he should get off the bus as he lived down a road that was rapidly receding into the distance. "Where are we then, Camden?" came the reply. "No, we're in Finchley and you need to get off the bus - you live down there!". "I know where I live; where do you live?" and so it went on until Finchley was a distant memory and they were all hopelessly far from home late at night.

The barbecue was a great success, by the way, though I got a little too warm at one point and disappeared into the cool for ten minutes that turned into an hour or so because I dozed off. I hope people didn't think I was being deliberately antisocial; I wasn't!

Saturday social

Despite my grumbles about it, which, it has to be said are regular and heartfelt, I do generally think that London Transport is a pretty good system. I can't think of another major British city of any size that I should be happy to live in for 25 years without daily access to a car.

That said, it is my burden to be living at a time when the underground particularly, is aged and falling apart; it needs and is slowly receiving, massive investment to bring it up to date. The downside of all this good work, is the necessary closures for engineering works. It is a rare piece of good fortune in these matters on my part, that the derailment of a train and consequent closure of the Northern Line between High Barnet and (probably) Finchley Central happened and was sorted before I moved to points north in 2005. I know that several of my friends found themselves reliant for several months on alternative forms of transport and these are relatively slow and awkward in this part of the city.




The point behind this, is to set my next grumble in context. Yesterday we went to Reading for snorkel_maiden and tjrobinson's 4th of July barbecue. Getting to Paddington for the train out to Reading is always a chore at the best of times. As it happens yesterday was not the best of times. We already knew that the Northern Line was closed between High Barnet and Finchley Central for engineering works, so we took the 263 down to East Finchley and picked up the train there. That added about 15 minutes to the journey for a start. What we didn't know though, was that the Northern Line platforms (only) at King's Cross were closed, so we were faced with the option of wandering around Euston, changing on the the northbound Victoria Line and then going for one stop to King's Cross and changing to one of the Circle, Metropolitan or Hammersmith Lines to get to Paddington. Since the trains were rammed we decided it was better to de-train at Euston and walk to Euston Square to pick up the same trains. Of course, there were reported problems with the Circle Line, though apart increasing the general fret level, had remarkably little effect on us. We ended up on a Hammersmith & Fulham train which got us to Paddington, but of course, that intersects with the main station at the far end of all the platforms and a good walk from the ticket machines. Ho-hum.

Well, we did that and managed to get on a Swansea train pretty sharpish, so that was fine. As usual, the trip from Paddington to Reading was a painless 20 minutes or so, which is a great deal less than the time it took to cover the distance to Paddington.

Any road, that was the journey there and it was no more pleasant on the way back, except that we decided that we would take the Tube-Replacement bus service from Finchley Central, not being sure how frequently the normal bus service runs after midnight.

I have never done the trip from Finchley Central to Whetstone so fast in my life by road. At that time of night the A1000 is pretty empty and the bus driver took full advantage, to Furtle's delight and my consternation. (I was a little worried because I was sitting on the aisle side of the seat and clinging on for dear life as we went around corners in one direction and having my arm scrunched into the metal work by Furtle as we went around corners in the other direction. Inertia and speed are an awesome combination.

There were some blokes on the top deck with us who were rather, er, tired and emotional having clearly sampled many of the inviting hostelries of the West End. As we were speeding up the North Finchley, one pointed out to his mate that he should get off the bus as he lived down a road that was rapidly receding into the distance. "Where are we then, Camden?" came the reply. "No, we're in Finchley and you need to get off the bus - you live down there!". "I know where I live; where do you live?" and so it went on until Finchley was a distant memory and they were all hopelessly far from home late at night.

The barbecue was a great success, by the way, though I got a little too warm at one point and disappeared into the cool for ten minutes that turned into an hour or so because I dozed off. I hope people didn't think I was being deliberately antisocial; I wasn't!