the journey back

Just got back from another St Audries weekend, this time for the wedding of Karen and Dan.The plans kept spiralling ever upward so I went down last Thursday and I'm glad I did, it was full on (as weddings always are) but everyone seemed very happy and it had a great atmosphere.

Karen worked for me for a season and for Matt before me and her grandmother Barb was the legendary head of housekeeping among other things for 45 years. We so wanted her day to be a wonderful one.

I'm hoping I'll be able to get my hands on a video made of the reception, then you'll be able to see for yourselves, so until I do...

Anyway today I was in the hands of Arriva trains and Virgin trains and Great western and I don't quite know who all. I love travelling by train in spite of all the aforementioned can do to make me change my mind (while emptying my bank account).

I was of course stuck for ages at Bristol Parkway station as there were signalling faults and broken down trains and probably rains of frogs too.

It used to be quite a nice station with a wooden cafe/ticket hall, very domestic and cosy and friendly of the sort we (used to be) so good at. But sometime in the reign of terror (Tony Blair) it had to be 'modernized', because we were such a go getting thrusting modern country and cosiness has no place here!

I'm sure on the plans it was all very futuristic and slick, but after the health and safety experts (enough to strike dread into any ones soul) and the accountants and all the rest had had their way it's now hard to imagine a bleaker more soulless place with its all weather rubber flooring and perforated steel seating which are only not in torture chambers because they are cheap and shoddy and the whole place looking tatty and run down and badly in need of repair after only a few years use.

Whoever thinks thin steel sheet corrugated and painted to look like stainless steel is a good idea is fooling themselves - badly.

But absolute worst of all, the endless announcements preceded by damn three note chimes (undoubtedly chosen by some absolute b***ard to cause maximum irritation) '*I* (pause) am very sorry (pause) for (pause) the delay on (pause) the thirteen (pause) oh seven (pause) train to (pause) Swansea (pause).. on and on, you get the idea...

How can *you* be so sorry? you're a damn collection of badly sequenced digital files and they can't even be bothered to make sure it's the same anouncertron's voice used through the whole thing - ARGH! I tell you it's no wonder people flip and cut loose with an Uzi..

Maybe I'm just tired, 18 hour days tend to do that.. no I'm right it's tat...