Ivo
Established Member
After the events of the preceding Tuesday, Saturday 26th February 2011 had a lot to live up to. And when combined with the rest of the last few days' activities, including two Great Escape runs and also London the night before, over 1,750mi (by all of 10ch 
) were covered! But each of the preceding three had been vastly different - and this was to be no exception. Of note, though, is that every journey ran as planned!
I returned from London the previous night feeling rather unwell. I had become overheated, to the point that the buffet staff on the HST from London gave me complimentary water to help, and thus had been contemplating bailing for three days and going to the West of Wales on Tuesday (1st March) instead. As it turned out, I felt well enough (but still not perfect) come 09:00, so I went ahead with the plan - but took some shorts along just in case.
The journey to Cardiff was rather dull. A girl from a certain University that Ivo does not like [i.e. Bath] sat opposite, and were it not for me, she would have left her coat in the luggage rack beyond Newport, where she alighted; without meaning to start an argument, it proved to me the intelligence of their average student. (They can't even read whether the bus says "City Centre" or "University", or "SPA1" or "18", for heaven's sake.) Into Cardiff we went (minus the girl and her coat of course), and I headed straight for The Pasty Shop to buy the traditional Ivo sausage roll... which they only had two of, and then one was small! Grrr! They (and a bacon bap) had to make do for the long trip into Pembrokeshire, a place I had only ever ventured into once before Saturday - and then at 3am, passing through it on the way back home from Ireland in 2006.
The 150 to Fishguard was relatively quiet. Slow out of Cardiff and on the Swansea avoiding line, the journey was otherwise unremarkable. The trolley guy was a good character to talk to; he mentioned the problems with using 150s on the route, the adventures of Michael Portillo, and also the effects of a certain strike (which caused the return journey to be quite busy). I actually lost my seat on the return trip to Carmarthen, which the service avoids on the outbound journey, to a photography session at Fishguard. The service is booked to arrive at 13:17; it arrived at 13:04. Whoops.
Later, I had a ~40 minute wait at Carmarthen, so I had a look around. And I have to say, it is beautiful. Forget anything people say about the station being inconveniently located; it is a 300 or so metre walk from the centre across a stunning steel bridge over the river. Sadly though, the town was a little too quiet, and I was fairly short on time, so an opportunity may well have been missed. Nonetheless, I returned to the little-used Platform 2 at Carmarthen for the 14:56 to Pembroke which to my horror was a 142! A 142 all the way to Pembroke and then back as far as Whitland! Argh!
By Pacer standards this was actually quite a nice journey, and did to an extent make me wonder what all the fuss was (bearing in mind I know all too well what their problems are). A quiet rural branch with mostly holiday traffic to Tenby (in February?) and little in the way of trouble. We actually started to run early beyond Tenby, which meant over 50 minutes in Pembroke Dock - which has essentially nothing there. (Apart from a dock anyway.) So I made up for the Carmarthen miss and bought something to eat.
Back on the Pacer, we were early into and late out of Tenby. We were there for over 15 minutes in all, so in theory I could have had a quick look there as well. Another miss down though, this relatively peaceful and almost tame day continued on to Whitland - where things would start to heat up (and not in a literal manner; neither because of the slight delay from Tenby which nearly made me miss the Milford service)...! Before that though, my thoughts had started to drift on to the subject of women. Yes, a train enthusiast really can have an interest in women
, but in this poor loser's case it can get a bit excessive (and cause depressive behaviour). Anyway, this time, whilst in the vicinity of Narberth, I had a strange thought that suggested that I would meet a nice lady on the train from Milford Haven...
The 175 to Milford Haven was heaving. Utterly heaving. The train was full of Swansea City fans celebrating their win over Leeds United in a Championship promotion six-pointer. They were singing, dancing, and downright rude, but it was only Whitland to Milford Haven, so not that far. Nonetheless, it became tedious and annoying, and by the time we reached the Principality's westernmost station I was fed up of it. My mood by this time was quite low, so it would need something special to lift it to the level it was in Fishguard - especially when you consider all the revellers heading to Swansea for the night! Out of Milford, I had the car to myself; by Whitland, drunks and potential drunks were literally everywhere.
However, suddenly, a certain small thought from the Narberth area came to the fore, when a lady sat immediately behind me. She got up to use the toilet, and owing to some points lost her balance and almost fell on to me! After she came back, we talked for a while, but that was it. She was off the train at Llanelli. The remainder of that journey was centered on the discussion of Swansea City's chances of promotion to the Premier League, and it looked like the day was over - but there was still the run back to Bath...
Into Platform 2 at Cardiff Central, with a seemingly failed pair of 175s on Platform 1, and there was no sign of the 158 home. It was due on 1, but ultimately changed to 2, and pulled in without trouble. I secured a table, and soon a man from Leeds (now living in Westbury) sat opposite me, and a lady from Caldicot - who had missed her 21:12 home and thus faced a walk from Severn Tunnel Junction - sat on the opposite table. And when we pulled out of Cardiff, she began to panic, thinking we were heading in the wrong direction. We weren't, but it took some considerable work to calm her. The three of us discussed various issues, again including Swansea vs Leeds, but her concerns remained. We eventually saw some works to the south, which eased her further, but it wasn't until I said we were about to enter a tunnel [that of Newport], which we shortly afterwards did do, that she was finally calm. But the train was slow - and this made her still feel a little edgy.
The lady and the Leeds man debated about all sorts, to the point that I asked if I was watching a soap opera. Apparently heartened by this, their talk became slightly less arrogant, but boy could she talk! The man even suggested that she was boring "a trainspotter on a train" [that's me in case you didn't realise] as a result of it. But finally, we pulled into Severn Tunnel Junction, and the lady stood up and bid us farewell. The man took her left hand and kissed her goodbye; she smiled. Then she quite literally kissed me! All that fear from as little as twelve days ago, seemingly vapourised in one instant, simply because I had comforted and assured her! And coupled with the events of roughly one hour previously, and also the thought of Narberth, and I felt much better. My mood hit a high, and we continued home, with a change to a 150 at Bristol.
And that was that. A train journey into the depths of Wales (having never been past Swansea), natural beauty spots, football hooliganism, and even my first proper kiss on the lips since the day before my 16th birthday, all in one day. And all while covering 480 miles and adding some considerable territory to my Route Coverage map!
) were covered! But each of the preceding three had been vastly different - and this was to be no exception. Of note, though, is that every journey ran as planned!I returned from London the previous night feeling rather unwell. I had become overheated, to the point that the buffet staff on the HST from London gave me complimentary water to help, and thus had been contemplating bailing for three days and going to the West of Wales on Tuesday (1st March) instead. As it turned out, I felt well enough (but still not perfect) come 09:00, so I went ahead with the plan - but took some shorts along just in case.
The journey to Cardiff was rather dull. A girl from a certain University that Ivo does not like [i.e. Bath] sat opposite, and were it not for me, she would have left her coat in the luggage rack beyond Newport, where she alighted; without meaning to start an argument, it proved to me the intelligence of their average student. (They can't even read whether the bus says "City Centre" or "University", or "SPA1" or "18", for heaven's sake.) Into Cardiff we went (minus the girl and her coat of course), and I headed straight for The Pasty Shop to buy the traditional Ivo sausage roll... which they only had two of, and then one was small! Grrr! They (and a bacon bap) had to make do for the long trip into Pembrokeshire, a place I had only ever ventured into once before Saturday - and then at 3am, passing through it on the way back home from Ireland in 2006.
The 150 to Fishguard was relatively quiet. Slow out of Cardiff and on the Swansea avoiding line, the journey was otherwise unremarkable. The trolley guy was a good character to talk to; he mentioned the problems with using 150s on the route, the adventures of Michael Portillo, and also the effects of a certain strike (which caused the return journey to be quite busy). I actually lost my seat on the return trip to Carmarthen, which the service avoids on the outbound journey, to a photography session at Fishguard. The service is booked to arrive at 13:17; it arrived at 13:04. Whoops.
Later, I had a ~40 minute wait at Carmarthen, so I had a look around. And I have to say, it is beautiful. Forget anything people say about the station being inconveniently located; it is a 300 or so metre walk from the centre across a stunning steel bridge over the river. Sadly though, the town was a little too quiet, and I was fairly short on time, so an opportunity may well have been missed. Nonetheless, I returned to the little-used Platform 2 at Carmarthen for the 14:56 to Pembroke which to my horror was a 142! A 142 all the way to Pembroke and then back as far as Whitland! Argh!
By Pacer standards this was actually quite a nice journey, and did to an extent make me wonder what all the fuss was (bearing in mind I know all too well what their problems are). A quiet rural branch with mostly holiday traffic to Tenby (in February?) and little in the way of trouble. We actually started to run early beyond Tenby, which meant over 50 minutes in Pembroke Dock - which has essentially nothing there. (Apart from a dock anyway.) So I made up for the Carmarthen miss and bought something to eat.
Back on the Pacer, we were early into and late out of Tenby. We were there for over 15 minutes in all, so in theory I could have had a quick look there as well. Another miss down though, this relatively peaceful and almost tame day continued on to Whitland - where things would start to heat up (and not in a literal manner; neither because of the slight delay from Tenby which nearly made me miss the Milford service)...! Before that though, my thoughts had started to drift on to the subject of women. Yes, a train enthusiast really can have an interest in women
, but in this poor loser's case it can get a bit excessive (and cause depressive behaviour). Anyway, this time, whilst in the vicinity of Narberth, I had a strange thought that suggested that I would meet a nice lady on the train from Milford Haven...The 175 to Milford Haven was heaving. Utterly heaving. The train was full of Swansea City fans celebrating their win over Leeds United in a Championship promotion six-pointer. They were singing, dancing, and downright rude, but it was only Whitland to Milford Haven, so not that far. Nonetheless, it became tedious and annoying, and by the time we reached the Principality's westernmost station I was fed up of it. My mood by this time was quite low, so it would need something special to lift it to the level it was in Fishguard - especially when you consider all the revellers heading to Swansea for the night! Out of Milford, I had the car to myself; by Whitland, drunks and potential drunks were literally everywhere.
However, suddenly, a certain small thought from the Narberth area came to the fore, when a lady sat immediately behind me. She got up to use the toilet, and owing to some points lost her balance and almost fell on to me! After she came back, we talked for a while, but that was it. She was off the train at Llanelli. The remainder of that journey was centered on the discussion of Swansea City's chances of promotion to the Premier League, and it looked like the day was over - but there was still the run back to Bath...
Into Platform 2 at Cardiff Central, with a seemingly failed pair of 175s on Platform 1, and there was no sign of the 158 home. It was due on 1, but ultimately changed to 2, and pulled in without trouble. I secured a table, and soon a man from Leeds (now living in Westbury) sat opposite me, and a lady from Caldicot - who had missed her 21:12 home and thus faced a walk from Severn Tunnel Junction - sat on the opposite table. And when we pulled out of Cardiff, she began to panic, thinking we were heading in the wrong direction. We weren't, but it took some considerable work to calm her. The three of us discussed various issues, again including Swansea vs Leeds, but her concerns remained. We eventually saw some works to the south, which eased her further, but it wasn't until I said we were about to enter a tunnel [that of Newport], which we shortly afterwards did do, that she was finally calm. But the train was slow - and this made her still feel a little edgy.
The lady and the Leeds man debated about all sorts, to the point that I asked if I was watching a soap opera. Apparently heartened by this, their talk became slightly less arrogant, but boy could she talk! The man even suggested that she was boring "a trainspotter on a train" [that's me in case you didn't realise] as a result of it. But finally, we pulled into Severn Tunnel Junction, and the lady stood up and bid us farewell. The man took her left hand and kissed her goodbye; she smiled. Then she quite literally kissed me! All that fear from as little as twelve days ago, seemingly vapourised in one instant, simply because I had comforted and assured her! And coupled with the events of roughly one hour previously, and also the thought of Narberth, and I felt much better. My mood hit a high, and we continued home, with a change to a 150 at Bristol.
And that was that. A train journey into the depths of Wales (having never been past Swansea), natural beauty spots, football hooliganism, and even my first proper kiss on the lips since the day before my 16th birthday, all in one day. And all while covering 480 miles and adding some considerable territory to my Route Coverage map!
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Not a bad couple of days all in all.
