scotsman
Established Member
- Joined
- 6 Jul 2010
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Here we have Harry Mount, a priveleged public school boy, latin lover, and arrogant snob, giving his opinion on the woefully inadequate train service between Liverpool Street and Ipswich. Unfortunately his article is about as biased as North Korean media referring to George Bush's opinion of Kim Jong-il.
I have fired off an email explaining my disgust in his article and suggesting he should perhaps do some voluntary work at a heritage railway before he writes something like that again.
Forget the bad weather; blame the fools, liars, layabouts and thugs who work on our railways
I have just got back from a return journey to Ipswich that should have taken an hour each way from Liverpool Street. Instead, it took three hours to get there, and three and a half to get back, because of the snow.
Of course I understand that bad weather makes things tricky though it really wasnt that cold, or snowy, in East Anglia. But what is unforgiveable is the attitude of those who work on the trains. Their incompetence adds hours on to the journey. Their rudeness, aggression, laziness and ignorance add an infuriating psychological layer to the experience.
At least in a car, you only have your own demons to fight with a delayed train journey means dependence on, and intense anger with, a series of unhelpful, unpleasant, positively obstructive human beings. Better to take things into your own hands on the roads, however dangerous and congested they might be.
My horrors began at Witham, barely half an hour out of London. Without any warning, the train just stood at the station for an hour. One passenger discovered that the driver had simply just got off, taking the conductor with him. Not a single announcement was made. The passenger had only discovered the news from a teenager in an orange jumpsuit - who was, in a desultory way, tapping away thimblefuls of snow, building up where the edge of the train met the platform.
Dunno whats happening, he said in an expression-free voice, Theres no driver. Theres no conductor.
Walking along the platform, I found the information desk where five National Express East Anglia employees were snugly tucked into a nice, heated room, while dozens of confused passengers froze outside on the platform. All five of them should have been outside telling us what was going on. Instead, one of them occasionally popped out and stood on the threshold, just to repeat, Theres no driver. Theres no conductor. All the trains at the station arent moving.
The tone was downbeat, passive-aggressive Im doing the bare minimum I can do here; dont ask anything else Ill just repeat myself, was the subtext.
As he was saying this, a contradictory announcement came over the intercom that the train would leave in three minutes, leaving startled passengers on the platform not knowing who to believe the intercom or the thuggish man at the information desk. When a passenger asked him what to do, he said, Get on this train. Youre lucky that any of them are leaving at all.
That was the message throughout the day Youre lucky. Dont bother us. Be grateful for what youre getting. And dont dare ask us to do anything on your behalf.
And so it went on. When we finally got to Ipswich Station, two hours later, the wicked PA announcer was cracking up with laughter as he announced more delays to more trains and more misery to more passengers.
On the way back, normal service was resumed. Our train broke down 50 yards outside Colchester Station oh, that we could have got out and walked. But, no, we were trapped for an hour and a half, sent into deepening, never-ending circles of gloom, by a series of defensive announcements.
An emergency locomotive is coming to take us into Colchester Station, where this train will terminate. I cannot tell you when it will arrive.
Half an hour later The locomotive is on its way in approximately 20 minutes.
20 minutes later nothing. Falsely raised hopes collapse all round.
Half an hour later The driver is trying to connect the emergency locomotive but the tubes [What tubes?] are frozen.
Another 20 minutes later, we limped into Colchester Station. There we were herded onto a different, smaller, stationary train, for another half an hour, with no announcements until, suddenly, an aggressive voice came over the PA The London train will now be leaving from platform two.
Cue desperate rush through an underpass onto another packed train there a commuter told me that shed seen the driver trying to warm up those tubes with a hairdryer. It summed up the amateurish, unprepared approach to an utterly predictable burst of cold weather which has now been in place over Britain for almost a week.
Of course cold snaps will hit Britain again and all this will happen again, too. You can spend all the money you want on snowploughs, better trains and more powerful hairdryers. But chaos will always reign when the railway is run by lazy thugs who see bad weather as an excuse to work even less hard than usual, rather than a reason to make more effort on behalf of the people who pay their wages.
I have fired off an email explaining my disgust in his article and suggesting he should perhaps do some voluntary work at a heritage railway before he writes something like that again.