One would think that a bus with Crystal Palace emblazoned on its front window could be depended upon to go there.
The tax payers of England, we the people, pay to be served by public transport not the other way around.
I met a lady yesterday, during another brush with malfunctioning destinations, who confided to me that she had the bus depot’s telephone number programmed into her cell, or should I say, mobile phone so that when she got ignored at a bus stop or a driver decided to only let customers “alight” by refusing to open the front doors, she can vent her anger by punching a speed dial button and lodging a complaint.
I have to admit my journeys have not been interrupted enough for me to reach zealot levels…yet.
The Crystal Palace bus was my first experience with a changing of destination, as if the bus driver arbitrarily thought,
“Oops too bad, I just can’t make it to Crystal Palais one more time today, we’re going to Bromley instead.”
It did not affect my journey, I was going to Beckenham and could understand the driver. I always wonder what happens to those poor souls who carry on oblivious of any changes having been made to their destination!
On Friday evening we were on our way to Kentish Town, a few stops from Victoria on the Northern line, we’d already made the two obligatory changes to ensure we were on the correct branch of the line that passed through Kentish Town.
All was well, the electronic sign inside the train said it was terminating at High Barnet and announcements over the loud speaker echoed the same.
Then we stopped in a tunnel just outside Camden Town after which the split occurs. The driver’s voice apologised for the interruption in our journey and that she was waiting to see if she would be allowed to proceed to Highgate where a passenger had been taken sick causing a delay and possible diversion.
That had us all surmising about the term, “taken sick” what was that code for?
“The going is slow…” she said, “hang in there,” as if we could do anything else! We waited in the tunnel, always a slightly unnerving experience since there could be a train behind us that hadn’t received the message!
We passed the time by taking photos,
The driver came on again,
“Hold on everyone until I get more information we may have a new termination point…”
Those who could understand the message, groaned.
The electronic sign, persisting in its original message, assured us that High Barnet was still the final destination. Foreigners who could read English were mistakenly re-assured.
The train began to creep forward, slowly. Then the loud speaker crackled to life and a now familiar voice updated all of those who could understand with this message,
“I am sorry to announce that my termination point has changed to Golders Green, everyone who needs stations en route to High Barnet, need to change at Camden Town and cross over to the other platform where a train will make its slow way up the Highgate line.” She was enjoying herself.
The digital feed stubbornly scrolled the words “High Barnet.”
More groans from our corner. What happened to my British acquiescence? Oh, I forgot, I’m American now along with my two travelling companions.
We snuck into Camden Town and alighted.
Surprisingly after walking the length of the platform up a lot of steps, across a walkway down some more steps we happened upon another platform with a train to High Barnet pulling in. We only had one stop so our going wasn’t slow at all and only a few minutes later we were at Kentish Town and calling for our friend to come and pick us up so that the party could begin!
I couldn’t help wondering how many confused tourists were abandoned at Golder’s Green thinking they were in High Barnet?
Well hello there! My name is Vivienne McNeny.
I am an empty nester exploring life as a Boomer…you could say I'm happily Boomering along!
As a homeschooling Mum I have finally quit the job of role model and mentor to my four children. I do what I want to do, eat when I feel like it, enjoy life with my blue eyed cowboy and clean my house once a month or so whether it needs it or not!
In true English form I write about the emergence of my true identity now that I can no longer hide behind my children as their Mum.
No comments so far!
Leave a Comment