Sit down and relax

That’s the beauty of a train day. Solitude, no responsibilities - just me, camera, notebook and the trains. I’ve planned my itinerary. I’m in good time at the station. This is my “go to” comfort zone - usually.

The ticket machine on the station is still not working, so I ring up customer services. “We know about this”, the voice answers. It’s been on their “to do” list since the11th of January, apparently. In spite of this, I already feel slightly uncomfortable. I haven’t got a ticket before travelling and I’ve got to explain myself again to the conductor. Just like last time, the conductor doesn’t appear before we arrive - five minutes late, this time - into Nottingham. Just like last time, I collar the ticket man as I get off and just like last time, he tells me his ticket machine is not working properly. I have three minutes to catch the connection to Leicester.

“Tell them on board the train”, he says. I walk down the St Pancras-bound express in search of the conductor, who is nowhere to be seen. I stand in the vestibule between carriages A and B so I can see someone coming, as its only twenty minutes until I get off again. No one comes. When I alight, I go straight to the conductor who has suddenly appeared as if from nowhere on the station platform. I explain that this is the third time I’ve tried to buy a ticket. She has no time for this now, she tells me, as the train is ready to leave. “There’s a booth at the top of the stairs. You can buy your ticket there”, she adds, showing just a smidgeon of irritation at being asked about it at all.

“I’ve come from Lowdham”, I blurt out as I embark on my fourth attempt in an hour to buy a travel ticket, but the lady on the other side of the counter senses my exasperation and smiles. “Don’t worry”, she says, and within seconds I’m clutching my passport to the rest of my supposedly carefree day at the still very reasonable price of £10.05 [accompanied by a senior railcard].

And relax!

I know it was irrational. It was their fault not mine. I was in good faith. I was not trying to evade payment. I would not have been subjected to a £100 fine. But I still felt uncomfortable to the extent that I couldn’t enjoy myself fully until it was resolved.

The rest of the time went better than expected. I’d been drawn to a return to Leicester again by a notice on YouTube of the arrival at the depot two days earlier of five Class 68s, three of which would be new to me. In fact, one had already disappeared, but I copped two and got my first look at a new Class 99, No. 99003. The three additional Class 66 cops were the unexpected icing on the proverbial cake.

A young boy came up to me on platform three. He must have been about ten years old. “Are you a trainspotter?” he asked. I smiled and admitted that I was. The evidence was conclusive, after all – warm coat and woolly hat for standing around in the cold, notebook and pen at the ready, well-thumbed loco-shed book alongside me on the bench and a tatty old rucksack that is now reserved for this very purpose. His mum, with an American accent, explained that he was already hooked on trains and that they were wondering where the best places would be to go to see them. They had come down on the train from Loughborough, so I offered hem Derby, Peterborough, Doncaster and Nuneaton as being within relatively easy reach. She mentioned Birmingham, but I think I managed to put her off that subterranean nightmare of a station. I should have added Stafford and Crewe, of course, but they already had plenty to go on. As they thanked me and turned away, I said that watching trains had given me a lifetime’s pleasure and that I hoped he would find similar enjoyment, too. It was a really heartwarming moment.

Then it was back to the business of extracting gentle pleasure from observations in amongst the usually fairly mundane happenings on the national rail network. The 12.36 to Sheffield was cancelled because “more trains than usual are needing repair at the same time”. Well, that was a first and who would have thought it. Sidings around the country are bulging with underused and withdrawn rolling stock, yet the feeling you often get is that the operating companies are constantly teetering on the edge of the resources necessary to run a railway and therefore repeatedly getting caught out with a shortfall when something goes wrong. What it comes down to is not enough employees or multiple units on stand-by. Maybe East Midlands Railway could also take another look at their ticket machines, both those carried by the conductors and the ones on the platform, if they are really interested in improve their image.