I'm writing my thoughts (laboriously) on a HandSpring Visor (deluxe).
Tuesday, October 26, 2004
Saturday, October 23, 2004
The adventure, continued
Of course, it wasn't my intention to remain exiled off-station - it would have been unkind for me to expect my family, worn out by their journey, to trek a further couple of hundred metres to find the car - not to mention the questionable security implications of where I would be leaving the car. So I drove back to the station, the approach road to which was now considerably busier than it was previously. I began to worry whether I would be back in the station in time to meet my train.
Eventually, I reached the barrier guarding the entrance to the short-stay car park. I pressed the button for a ticket, and was greeted with "out of fanfold tickets". There are moments in life when a threshold has been crossed - this was one of them. Eventually I found someone looking vaguely official, and told him of my predicament (shared by the lady driver of the car behind, of course). I went back to the car, and saw that the machine had another button marked "call for assistance". So I did - "intercom engaged". I tried again, and someone answered. "The machine is out of tickets," I cried. "Just drive through," was the answer. "There's a barrier in the way," I bellowed, politely. The barrier lifted, and I drove through.
We were not yet 'out of the wood'. As the lady driver and I realised, we would have difficulty leaving the car park, without a time-stamped ticket. We found a burly, uniformed man who was arguing with a couple who had evidently been caught out by the '£20 for every subsequent hour' rule. He told us to head for the station reception (we would recognise the place because of the goldfish), where our problem would be sorted out. Sure enough, a kind gentleman gave us what I would from then on refer to as 'get out of jail free' tickets. These were simple exit tickets - no need to pay. I discovered later on that this was standard procedure for the situation I was initially facing - if the train I was meeting was late, I could find my way to this office, and claim an exit ticket, which would avoid the £20 surcharge. Perhaps Network Rail should have considered printing this information somewhere that people could read it?
At 18:41, the advertised expected time of arrival of my family's train, I was standing opposite the platform where the arrivals board assured me that it would arrive. A train arrived. The passenegers alighted. My family were not among them. As I fumbled for my mobile phone to call my wife to ask her where (the hell) she was, the phone rang. She told me that they were stuck somewhere south of Kirkcaldy. "But your train has just arrived," I puzzled. Back to the station reception, who told me that her train was indeed stuck north of Inverkeithing, and that the train which I had seen arriving must have been a different train.
Eventually, I reached the barrier guarding the entrance to the short-stay car park. I pressed the button for a ticket, and was greeted with "out of fanfold tickets". There are moments in life when a threshold has been crossed - this was one of them. Eventually I found someone looking vaguely official, and told him of my predicament (shared by the lady driver of the car behind, of course). I went back to the car, and saw that the machine had another button marked "call for assistance". So I did - "intercom engaged". I tried again, and someone answered. "The machine is out of tickets," I cried. "Just drive through," was the answer. "There's a barrier in the way," I bellowed, politely. The barrier lifted, and I drove through.
We were not yet 'out of the wood'. As the lady driver and I realised, we would have difficulty leaving the car park, without a time-stamped ticket. We found a burly, uniformed man who was arguing with a couple who had evidently been caught out by the '£20 for every subsequent hour' rule. He told us to head for the station reception (we would recognise the place because of the goldfish), where our problem would be sorted out. Sure enough, a kind gentleman gave us what I would from then on refer to as 'get out of jail free' tickets. These were simple exit tickets - no need to pay. I discovered later on that this was standard procedure for the situation I was initially facing - if the train I was meeting was late, I could find my way to this office, and claim an exit ticket, which would avoid the £20 surcharge. Perhaps Network Rail should have considered printing this information somewhere that people could read it?
At 18:41, the advertised expected time of arrival of my family's train, I was standing opposite the platform where the arrivals board assured me that it would arrive. A train arrived. The passenegers alighted. My family were not among them. As I fumbled for my mobile phone to call my wife to ask her where (the hell) she was, the phone rang. She told me that they were stuck somewhere south of Kirkcaldy. "But your train has just arrived," I puzzled. Back to the station reception, who told me that her train was indeed stuck north of Inverkeithing, and that the train which I had seen arriving must have been a different train.
The story so far
My wife and children are travelling from Perth. Their train was due to arrive in Edinburgh at 18:14. I was planning to meet them, arriving in the car at Waverley Station at around 17:50. Traffic on the way had been light. I had to give myself time to work out which platform the train would arrive on. I discovered that Network Rail were going to charge me 50p for half an hour, or £2 for an hour. Subsequent hours would cost £20 (not a misprint).
It turned out that the train was expected at 18:41. I calculated that there was a definite possibility that if I waited in the station to meet my wife and children, it would cost me £22. Network Rail, it seems, fines its customers for the late arrival of trains.
I did the only thing I could in the circumstances. I went back to the car, drove out the station, paying 50p, and found a parking place in a side street.
My wife and children are travelling from Perth. Their train was due to arrive in Edinburgh at 18:14. I was planning to meet them, arriving in the car at Waverley Station at around 17:50. Traffic on the way had been light. I had to give myself time to work out which platform the train would arrive on. I discovered that Network Rail were going to charge me 50p for half an hour, or £2 for an hour. Subsequent hours would cost £20 (not a misprint).
It turned out that the train was expected at 18:41. I calculated that there was a definite possibility that if I waited in the station to meet my wife and children, it would cost me £22. Network Rail, it seems, fines its customers for the late arrival of trains.
I did the only thing I could in the circumstances. I went back to the car, drove out the station, paying 50p, and found a parking place in a side street.
Thursday, October 21, 2004
Tuesday, October 19, 2004
Monday, October 11, 2004
Friday, October 08, 2004
This blog
Inevitably, this blog is going to be raw and scrappy. It's recording thoughts as they occur, before they mature, before they've been censored. I may regret what I write here, but that's the point.
Thursday, October 07, 2004
Wednesday, October 06, 2004
V. tired
How do we proceed? The commonsense thing to do would be to go home and sleep - but that simply doesn't belong in my repertoire. I'm working (!!)
Tuesday, October 05, 2004
Monday, October 04, 2004
Back again
Needing to open the safety valve. No great issues, just the mounting pressure of many tasks, not of which is quite as simple as it should be. I want to go somewhere and hide.
Friday, October 01, 2004
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