An Incredible Journey

Another visit to the used bus emporium at Purfleet with cheque book in hand and the inevitable happens!

I must admit that I had already made up my mind that I was going to buy a bus, the biggest clue was the fact that I had only bought a single ticket from Gloucester to Rainham (£22.50 bargain!).

The day began badly. Strong winds and driving rain showing how badly designed Gloucester railway station is. Couple this with conflicting information about which platform my train was to depart from and large puddles on the undulating platform surface, causing me to get rather wet, and you can understand my already worsening mood. The scheduled departure from platform 1 and its redirection to platform 4 could not have been worse under the circumstances, all caused by the train that should have been going to Cardiff sitting idly in platform 2 (its path blocked by fallen trees near Lydney). Platforms 1 and 4 could not be further apart!

My train arrives and we depart only 10 minutes late in a South West Trains liveried unit working a First Great Western service.

I sit back in a surprisingly comfortable seat and enjoy the view. We pass Stonehouse without incident and at Stroud I notice the 35 service from Nympsfield at the end of Cainscross road at 1017 (meaning it should arrive on time at Cornhill at 1020). Onwards to Kemble, where I am always surprised by the number of passengers joining and alighting each train, and then the guard makes an announcement!

The gist of this long winded and pause ridden statement was that there was disruption across the entire network due to the weather, the London Underground was in turmoil and that we were running 10 minutes late whilst our connection was not! The tone of his statement was that we were going to miss our connection to Paddington. Much muttering and rustling then took place within the carriage.

We arrived at Swindon and as it appeared most of the passengers on our train intended to make this impossible connection, there was a scramble for the doors. How i miss the days when there were more than two door per carriage and you could just reach out of the window and open the door to enable you to begin your sprint before the train had even stopped! Luckily, however, the guard had missed the fact that 10 minutes late meant that we still had a good 10 minutes to wait for the Paddington train!

Having just dried out I was once again lauched into the driving wind and rain to ensure further discomfort. I even had time to buy a paper from the newsagent before my train arrived.

I have learnt through bitter experience that all trains heading into and out of Paddington will be horrendously overcrowded and so I made sure that I reserved a seat. I also chose the quiet carriage as an excuse to turn off my mobile and enjoy some peace before being launched into the unmitigated chaos that is London. I was astounded to find the train almost empty and only about 10 people occupying the quiet carriage. I looked for my reserved seat and I was astounded to find somebody sitting in it! How on earth could this be! Out of all the available seats, only mine and nine others were occupied! But being English, I carried on past and found another seat and did not make a fuss. On the other side of the train was a lady who I guessed to be in her mid fifties. Just as the train departed from Swindon her mobile rang! She answered it and then proceeded to talk into it saying such gems as " hold on a sec, I am in the quiet coach" and "nearly there" as she wandered down the aisle to the end of the carriage. I thought that the whole point of being in the quiet carriage was that you turned these infernal devices off! She eventually returned to her seat without displaying any shame and in no way looking apologetic adding to my growing sense of injustice. I am sure that if my phone had rang she would have been the first to point out that this was the quiet carriage, a place that she had deliberately chosen to sit!

We arrived at Paddington on time but the rain was still torrential and I had by this point noted that the quiet coach was at the back of the train giving me a longer walk along the platform. This gave me time to reflect on the grandeur of the train shed and more importantly that it was impossible to walk to the exit without walking through several waterfalls, which I am sure were not in Brunel's original design, caused by stratigically placed holes in the roof. Thankfully First Group had provided several helpful yellow signs informing me that there was water on the floor and that there was a risk of slipping. How amusing it was to see someone trip over one of these signs! If only there had been a sign warning people that there were signs on the platform!

I made for fresh air, extra fresh due to the wind howling through the concourse, and made my phone calls. I phoned Paul at Ensign Bus to say I was at Paddington and to arrange a lift from Rainham Station and then phoned the wife.

The underground was running well, not in chaos as previously warned, and the familiar journey across London to Tower Hill ensued. Whilst underground, the weather had miraculously cleared up and blue skies greeted me on my emergance to the surface. From Tower Hill it is just a short walk to Fenchurch Street and onto the train bound for Grays.

Another smooth and punctual journey and I arrive at Rainham. The ticket barrier refuses to let anyone out unless they have a pass but by using the gate that says no exit I am out! Now I am confronted by a lake where once there was car park which can only be crossed by getting your feet wet (again!). Only five minutes wait and the familiar blue and silver colours of the Ensign Bus van appears. In no time I am in used bus heaven!

I had come to see two Mercedes automatic minibuses both of which were waiting for me in 'the shed'. Both were running and awaiting my inspection. I was only allowed to buy one and so the selection process began. There was not much between them except that on one the passenger doors would not work properly so decision made! N912 ETM was going to join our fleet.

My choice was adorned with trade plates and made ready for a test drive. This passed without incident except that I wanted to try its hill climbing ability. This part of Essex is devoid of such geographical features and so I had to make do with a mild gradient. I already knew that this aspect of performance was likely to be dissapointing and so it proved to be. Test drive completed, it was back to the yard for paperwork.

After an attempt was made to sell me a low floor dart from Veolia in South Wales and I had made sufficient disparaging comments to show that I was not going to spend any money on such a monstrosity it was time to leave.

I had already worked out that my new steed was not going to proceed faster than about 50 mph, less on an incline, and so a painfully slow journey was in store for me. Nearly four hours of tedium later, including a stop for fuel at South Mimms, I arrive at Nailsworth. Ian had waited for my arrival (Ian is our only driver with an automatic only licence) and so was most eager to see my latest purchase. I parked it and Ian jumped aboard. He scuttled around it and inevitably ended up in the cab where he attempted to start it. All of a sudden, despite no problems other than lack of speed on its mammoth journey from Essex, the battery was flat.

The next day it was to go into the workshop for a full inspection and so I knew we would be fitting a new battery at least. And so I went home after another fun packed day in the world of buses.