The closer we got to London, the less it looked like Ohio. I practically had my nose pressed against the clean Eurostar window, waiting for Big Ben to suddenly appear on the horizon. Instead I saw unlovely apartment buildings, resembling tenement housing. The concrete walls along the track were covered with graffiti, but not of the crude and primitive type I've seen sprayed on the water towers here at home. It was obvious a lot of time and care had been spent defacing railway property, and though it was BIG, the fancy lettering prevented me from making out a single word it said. My visual misery was abruptly ended by the train pulling into Waterloo Station. We said our good-byes to our new Eurostar friends, promising to visit again at the first opportunity. They joyfully helped us drag our luggage to the platform, then dropped us like a couple of hot potatoes, no doubt wanting to pursue whatever attractions Waterloo holds for train personnel between trips under the English Channel.  Me, I was impressed beyond belief, not only at the vast difference in appearance between Waterloo and Paris Nord, but by the ease and comfort with which we'd just travelled from another country. We had gotten to the Paris station 30 minutes before departure time, not the 2-3 hours required for air travel; we were able to move about the train freely without waiting for the captain to turn off the "Fasten Seatbelts" sign; we were waited on hand and foot; the leg room was more than double that on a jet (even in first class); the first-class fare was less than 1/3 what it cost to fly coach to Paris. Why did we ever do away with the train system in the States?? It must be speed, because it's certainly not comfort. As you can probably tell, I fell head-over-heels in love with European trains, which was a good thing, as we were destined to spend a great deal of time on them in the coming month. LOL A city the size of London requires many train stations - there are a lot of different lines (which was a surprise to me), servicing almost every town in the country. Service to Bristol was from Paddington Station. After clearing UK Immigration, where the lady Asian officer commented that 30 days was a long vacation (at least she spoke to me and stamped my passport!), we headed outside for the taxi stand (sorry, the taxi queue), and were immediately told by those ahead of us that the line formed inside.  Maggie hurried back to nab us a spot, while I waited on the sidewalk with the luggage, giving me the chance to watch the London cabs load up passengers and belongings in quite the odd fashion. Though I'd heard about those cute London taxis from Maggie's previous trip to the UK, I hadn't really known what to expect, but was as taken with them as I'd been with the train. There are no trunks to speak of (boots, to our UK friends), and bags are stacked neatly in the passenger compartment, which is really very roomy. The queue moved quickly, and before we knew it we were riding through London in style. Ok, in cuteness. Suddenly, and without any warning at all, I saw it - the thing I'd been looking for ever since we surfaced from the Channel - BIG BEN! And, just across the Thames, the London Eye was towering over the landscape. That thing is huge! I watched through the back window, but felt no disappointment as the clock tower gradually disappeared from view - there were too many other things to see. 
Of course, I had no idea just what I was seeing most of the time, as our taxi driver hadn't said more than two words since we'd entered his vehicle. Suddenly, and again without any warning at all, we rounded a curve and Buckingham Palace came into sight. We didn't know it was Buckingham Palace, but Maggie immediately asked the driver if it was possible that we'd just witnessed (in sort of a blur) the changing of the Guard, and if that was the Palace. "Oh, yes", he replied. When we made it clear that we wanted him to feel free to point out anything of interest during the duration of the trip, he became ever so chatty. Naturally, most of the really good stuff was already behind us, but we did get to see where the gallows stood in days past. Oh, and his own house, which we really appreciated. LOL Presently, we arrived at Paddington and went to the overhead monitor for platform information. Yep, there it was, Bristol Temple Meads, our destination - departure time in 20 minutes, but no platform listed. Hmm... We stood and waited, and watched, the crowd doing the same growing larger with each passing minute. 10 minutes, and still no platform. Not good, not good at all, since the leaving time wasn't changing with the updates. If the designated platform was not one immediately adjacent to us, we were, well, screwed. Finally, at 7 minutes before the train pulled out, they announced the platform over the speaker, and 300 people ran like hell to catch it. Does it surprise anyone that our first class car was the furthest away? I didn't think it would. About halfway down the length of the 20+ cars, we stopped and asked an employee if he thought we'd make it to the end. When he replied, "Probably not", we tossed our luggage into the nearest car and hopped on behind it. The train left the station before we could sit down. I suppose I could've let this incident kill my new love affair with trains but instead I was even more impressed by the fact that it left exactly at the scheduled time. An hour delay? Two? Three? Oh, no, that sort of thing simply does not happen with trains! Granted, it was impossible not to compare standard class on a regular train to first class on the Eurostar, so we did crab a bit. I mean, there were all these people in our car, and they talked to each other, and talked on their cell phones, and we didn't have coffee or Diet Coke or anything! Being train novices, we had no idea we could've left our bags there, sat in first class, and picked them up on the way out. Luckily, one does not remain a novice forever. 
It was a longish trip, with Swindon station lying somewhere near the middle. If you've read Maggie's reviews, you know what happened at Swindon. No, I did not want to roam around the town looking for Justin Hayward relics, paying homage to his grammar school, or placing flowers at his birthplace. Fortunately, I do not share Maggie's weakness for begging and pleading, or we'd probably still be there. She punished me by falling asleep as we left the station. LOL |
BRISTOL