Rail travail

I was brought up to respect thrift.

My parents were of that post-war generation who did not espouse extravagance. Rationing was not abolished until 1954. Going to a restaurant other than Lyons Corner House was a rare treat.  Their first house was rented.

Gradually by the sixties they came to enjoy foreign travel, nice clothes and my dad like a decent car – he had  a grand Van der Plat Princess. But they were always careful.

I inherited these values and respected and adopted them. My only real extravagance is to travel first class by rail. I use Southern Rail – or as it is known for its poor service – Southern Fail.  

The first class section has the same type of seat, no special benefits – even the trolley service went years ago – and I only justify the greater expense as I have a senior railcard.

At least I thought I had, but when my mobile had to be re-set after the email problems my railcard app was not restored.

I discovered this at the ticket office and expressed my dissatisfaction that I could not be issued with a physical card but a downloaded one via the app.

To restore it proved a convoluted process of establishing that I was not a robot and obtaining a new password (the previous one had also gone with the reset).

You may wonder why it’s so important to me to travel first class.

In a word, privacy.

As the railcard could not be restored for this journey to the Thames Valley I travelled standard class.

I had to change at Clapham Junction.

On the return yesterday at Clapham Junction I saw on the platform an obese passenger – pale distended stomach exposed – tucking into fatty foods.

On boarding the train he was there with a jumbo-sized bag of crisps.

Next to me was a passenger blaring in Arabic down this mobile.

I sought greater quiet and moved. I found a seat next to a girl with a glass of some smoothie with ice which she was shaking like a maracas. I could not face another move but stuck it out till my destination.

Has rail travel worsened in my lifetime?

Definitely so.

Gone is the restaurant  dining car with a jolly steward in white livery.

I think of an journey I made by rail from Seville to Cordoba.

The first class seat cost €20 and the carriage had a bar, loo and trolley service.

In Japan the bullet train inaugurated for the 1964 Olympiad arrived on the dot.

In Japan the passenger tends to avoid eating on his/her journey.

The Brighton Belle that famous old train in which Laurence Olivier ate his kipper and Ted Dexter’s toast was served in a silver rack  is to be restored.

My parents would be ashamed of me but I will be taking it.