From our July 1 edition
I’m part of a working group for the Boys’ Brigade.
It’s a fairly new group and has representatives from England, Scotland, Northern Ireland, the Republic of Ireland and Wales.
Finding a place to meet is not easy. The first time we met, it was in Belfast. Then everyone came to Scotland. Just at the beginning of this week, however, we met in London.
To be precise, we met near Hemel Hempstead in the brigade headquarters at Feldon Lodge. The house itself is beautiful and it has wonderful grounds – but what an absolute nightmare to get there.
Modern technology is wonderful. You can plan journeys, get directions and buy tickets all online. Which is precisely what I did with the help of the other half who has a far better sense of direction than me.
We got it sussed. A flight to Gatwick from Inverness at 7am. The shuttle from the north to the south terminal, then a Southern train to Clapham Junction where I was to change for Hemel Hempstead.
The alarm went off at 4.30am. I got up and out and had a bright and calm early morning journey to the airport. The plane was packed but was loaded quickly and we left on time.
We landed, however, in an isolated part of the airport which meant we had to be bussed to the terminal and the buses don’t move until everyone is off the plane. That meant a dash to catch the train for Clapham Junction. It was leaving the platform just as I arrived.
No matter, one of the guards told me there was another in about 10 minutes. Only he didn’t tell me it was on an entirely different platform. Another mad dash.
I knew the time was going to be tight to catch the following train, so when we arrived at Clapham I was up and out the door as quickly as I could be, only to discover that my train had been cancelled. No replacement.
What they suggested was getting a tube to Victoria station and getting a train from there. The meeting I was chairing was going to have to start without me. The advice, though, proved to be good. I managed to catch a train from Victoria and the others were sipping a second coffee waiting for me.
The meeting went well.
I went back to the train station in Hemel Hempstead to catch the train I’d booked – one that would take me straight through to Gatwick. It was cancelled.
There then followed an exact repeat of the morning journey of a train, a tube and another train, only this time it was rush hour and sardines are well spaced out compared to people on the tube.
Then the driver of the second train didn’t turn up and the passengers waiting completely filled the platform, blocking it solid.
An announcement was made mentioning a train going elsewhere that stopped at Gatwick, so a few of us decided to go for it. With a bit of serious jogging we crossed the six platforms to find it and jumped in just as the doors were closing. Others were not so lucky. Again the train was packed.
Eventually we got to Gatwick and back to Inverness and as we touched down, I thought to myself "So that was civilisation?"
And as I drove north in the gathering dusk, with the sun making the clouds glow and peace descended, I decided I quite like living in the back of beyond.
Peace be with you –
Susan Brown.
