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June 2024. Waterbeach to Cambridge.
“Greater love hath no man than than this, than he would spend a day of his life at Waterbeach feast“.
And so it was that Mrs RM joined me at my hometown (village) for a day of fairground fun, cakes and old blokes doing covers of “Wish You Were Here” on the Gault (little green) outside my parents thatched cottage,
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Which is ironic, as the purpose of our visit was to help Mum and Dad escape this celebration of community groups (and cakes, always cakes).
But Mum loved getting out, watching the floats, chatting to people, buying cakes..
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Almost as much as getting 52 likes for Mrs RM’s Facebook post the next day, after we’d took them up the road to the Five Miles from Anywhere, where again I can say the service and food was as good as it gets in the Fen Edge.
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It was good to see Mum happy for a while, but by Sunday afternoon we were needing to escape before dying of cake poisoning and headed round the M25 to Dorking, ahead of what’s called a “habitation check” on our campervan. It stops it blowing up or something.
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I’d picked Dorking because a) you can (it seems) stay in their car parks overnight and b) there’s a fast train into That London (calm yourselves). And c) I’d never really got Dorking.
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At the main station (there’s 3), disaster struck as Mrs RM realised our Two Together railcard had expired the day before, and we’d need to renew it, photos and all, to get that crucial £4 savings off our Sunday fares.
“There’s a pub just there” I said, always helpful.
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A recent GBG pub, too, the Lincoln Arms the most unlikely of Guide debutants 5 years ago, a very basic locals lager pub.
One cask on, the Tillingbourne one with the weird thin clip. I had two halves.
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Why did I do that !
We had 7 minutes to take mug shots of ourselves, upload them to British Rail (or whatever it’s called), renew a lapsed travel card, buy tickets for today, go the loo, and drink halves.
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Mrs RM succeeded on the first 3 tasks, leaving me to drink both halves. The first, crisp and cool (3.5), the second distinctly less so (3-). But only £4.30 the two, so let’s not complain too much as we sprint for the gates.
I don’t think I’d describe any train from Dorking to London these days as “fast”. The fastest train to Waterloo takes 53 minutes (for 22 miles), compared with 44 minutes in 1970; and the fastest to Victoria takes 58 minutes (for just under 24 miles), compared with 39 minutes in 1970.
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People voted for it, John.
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Nothing a good revolution wouldn’t fix. 🙂
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Half an hour to Wimbledon? Can’t complain at that, John, though I take your general point.
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Wolverhampton to Walsall now takes 69 minutes.
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It would have taken you 17 minutes from Wolverhampton High Level to Walsall in 1938, Paul – but of course that service (via Willenhall Bilston Street) was withdrawn in 1965. As for Dorking, despite what I suspect the other commentators are suggesting, the lengthening of journey times isn’t primarily attributable to privatisation.
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John, as John Motson would’ve said “Are you sure?”
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Let’s see if your wet dream Sir Kneelalot sticks to his pledge to re-nationalise with five years.
Those of use with longer memory spans than a halibut have better recall of the shit-show that was British Rail.
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I’d have said let the Germans run it but they do already, don’t they?
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And our bumpy buses.
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I used BR a great deal. It was one of life’s simple – and cheap – pleasures.
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Etu, So did I, averaged 200 trains a year through the 1980s, and, though it had been worse earlier, I encountered very few late trains or cancellations during the several years up to privatisation.
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200 mainly for work ?
It’s fascinating how much I use trains since moving to Sheffield, Paul. Not always a pleasant experience, mind.
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No, for leisure, distances beyond a cycle ride.
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John, I remember it taking about a quarter hour from High Level about twenty-five years ago but that service didn’t last much more than several years, probably because few potential passengers knew of it. My only memory of Low Level ( other than working at the beer festival long after it had closed ) was in the other direction for the Cambrian Coast, roughly 1958 to 1961.
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I’ve never heard of John Motson, I’m afraid, Etu – but yes, I am sure!
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I’ve found the one person who’s never heard of John Motson !
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Two people now, as I hadn’t.
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Which football commentators can you name, Paul ?
Mrs RM recognised him immediately, though I think she may be getting confused with David Coleman who was a regular in Private Eye (Colemanballs).
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Probably only LAF.
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You’d rightly expect me to pontificate on football from a position of profound ignorance but I was reminded of Rodney Marsh in Rugeley this lunchtime. On ordering a pint at 1.35pm the barmaid/landlady said that she would have to PULL some OFF as mine would be the first Bass of the day. Being Craft Union I had change out of £3.
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Is there a euphemism in there somewhere, Paul ?
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There’s all sorts of things in Rugeley, so probably.
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