Travels by train in a September to remember

Last month was defined by travels by train for our Virgin Media O2 Business employee roadshows. Armed with laptop, journal and novel to keep me busy on the journey (alas a poor choice of book by my Book Club cohort - ‘It ends with us’ by Colleen Hoover. It was nearly the end of me more like. Suffice to say I won’t be reading the sequel). I was looking forward to chugging along and watching the world go by. A romantic bubble of bygone days it didn't take long to burst. The Orient Express this was not.

Take Newbury to Bellshill for example, now that was a journey.

GETTING THERE...        

Home to Newbury Station

First of all, parking in Newbury. The town is in a permanent state of gridlock. Is it because everyone’s driving to avoid the rain? Is it because every field has been grubbed up and stocked with fence-to-fence Lego houses? Turns out the station car park has also fallen foul of the traffic - not a space to be found. Missing my train not an option, I parked in a nearby-ish non-resident’s-parking-only road and lurched back to the station dragging my luggage in my wake. I made the train by minutes (the guard helpfully letting me know there was a five story car park I could have parked in…hmmm...)

Newbury to Paddington

Onwards to Paddington, then Euston without event other than a mix-up with the wrong panini which Starbucks wasn’t prepared to admit to, let alone rectify. I inhaled the revolting BBQ chicken monstrosity (loathe chipotle) behind a pillar in the station before getting on the train.

Euston to Motherwell

A bunfight. Passengers squeezed onto the train, standing room only. I ended up sitting next to a very large man perched on a very small, fold-away seat in one of the carriage’s corridors. He looked at me perched next to him, trying to wrestle my luggage into submission then said, “my mate’s got a seat booked but he won’t want it, he’ll want to sit with us lot. I’ll ask him if you can have it.” Sure enough, the mate appeared and was happy to switch, so I got a seat! The kindness of strangers...I was inordinately grateful. On finding the seat the woman I was sitting next to gave me a withering look, wrapped her scarf around her head and face-planted on the table she'd unfolded in front of her for the purpose of a snooze. A few stops later the family in the seats in front of us got off, and I nipped round to bag myself a table and window seat for the rest of the journey.

Motherwell to Bellshill

I arrived in Bellshill in the dark to find an empty platform with no people and no taxis. Trundling down the long concrete ramp to the road there were no cars, no people and no network coverage. “Are you lost, Hen?” Asked an elderly man clutching a bottle of something unidentifiable. He very kindly pointed me in the direction of the nearest chippy. I walked down the street towards the bright lights of the chippy and asked a furiously frying woman if she knew the number of a taxi firm. She did! I typed the number into my phone and five minutes later was on my way to the hotel. I think if it hadn't been for that lady in the chippy, I'd have spent the night on a cold station platform. The hotel may have been a vision in beige brickwork, but after a curry and glass of red the world seemed a much brighter and less beige place. I slept like a log, not even the horizontal rain hammering on my window could keep me awake.

GETTING HOME...THE NEXT DAY        

Bellshill to London

The train was cancelled.

We were all diverted onto the Edinburgh to Kings Cross train. Seating-wise it was Russian roulette. Would your seat be reserved, or free. Our carriage held its collective breath waiting for the lights to turn red or green. It was a fifty-fifty chance. By some miracle, it was my half of the carriage that turned green. A thin cheer went up from the tired passengers. Followed by a six hour run down to London non-stop. I couldn’t get out of my seat when we arrived. Muscles atrophied. But at least we got there. It was heartwarming to hear people who'd met on the diverted train saying goodbye to one another, how lovely it had been to meet and good luck on their onward journeys.

London to Newbury

The home stretch. A pot of olives to keep energy levels up and a call home kept me awake. I walked past a man urinating in the dark on the small path up to the road where my car was parked. Heart hammering, I sped up and made it with relief into the small damp cab of my ancient Mazda and prayed for it to start.

Home

I've rarely been as grateful as I was at that moment to finally walk through my own front door and get home to my family.

A month of roadshows certainly brings with it it's fair share of logistical adventures. But it's also a great way to make new, if temporary, friends.

And the kindness of strangers when you need help is always unexpected and quite wonderful.

#storytelling #culture #communication #employeeengagement #train #travel #roadshow

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Louisa Houghton is a storyteller and employee engagement specialist. She's also many other things, including bee keeper, guitar player and German Shepherd despairer (if that wasn't a thing, it is now). Louisa is all about keeping it real, dispensing with the fluff and having some fun. She is a firm believer in the extraordinary everywhere. Magic can always be found if you look for it.

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