Working in London I have a regular commute home at weekends and sometimes further for a relaxing weekend away. Recently I travelled the 20 minute journey on the London Underground to London Paddington station and then commenced a three hour journey to Devon, in the south west of England, for such a break. My journey involved a single connection at Exeter station, and I knew I had 7 minutes to change platforms negotiating a walkway via two sets of stairs
As my journey commenced I settled back to unwind from a hectic week in the office, thinking about the relaxing weekend away from the drudgery of working life. I plugged in my ipod and closed my eyes. During what was a pretty uneventful journey (unusually), we lost a bit of time, so as we approached Exeter nearly three hours after leaving London, I knew my connection time was now down to 2 minutes; still possible but no longer a casual stroll.
As the train pulled into the station I knew I had to get from one platform to another in two minutes. I edged my way to the train door ready for my sprint (if only rushing for trains was an Olympics sport, I wouldn't have to worry about getting tickets for London 2012; I'd be competing).
The train stopped and I was out and running, dodging the inconvenience of people exiting from other carriages and hurdling random items of luggage on the platform. I made the first set of stairs, barging people out the way, as politely as I could; across the bridge weaving in amongst other commuters; then down the second set of stairs, muttering my apologies as I shouldered past human obstacles. I saw my train. I'd made it to the platform and my connection was waiting obligingly. In my final act of athleticism I jumped the gap and onto the waiting carriage, just as the doors closed behind me and the train moved off. I took a deep breath and with an overwhelming sense of relief I watched Exeter disappear as I commenced the final 20 minutes of my journey.
I decided to rest from my exertions and walked down the carriage looking for a seat. As I did, I noticed the clean colourful seats of the train. The whole look and feel was modern as the train glided along the track. This was not the shabby, grey unappealing bone-shaker I was expecting. Something was seriously wrong!
All of a sudden, panic, as my senses started to compute my feeling of confusion. Then my worst fear became reality, as the announcer confirmed, “This is the Exeter to London Waterloo service; our journey time will be approximately three hours.” I was on my way back to London and my helplessness was compounded as I pushed the door open button which on a moving train was not working for obvious reasons. Horror of horrors, I was on my way back to work and there was nothing I could do about it. I was about to start the second part of a 6 hour journey from Paddington to Waterloo, a journey which usually only takes 15 minutes.
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