The Liverpool Chronicles

My friend Nickianne proposed a series of gatherings on the supernatural these to run three times with a final two-day event in November. I was very enthusiastic about this and put forward proposals for each. Unfortunately the first one was cancelled, which was a good thing in that I did not have as much work to do preparing. This is the account of my journey to the third of these.

Normally when I travel to Liverpool I take the coach and this involves traveling over night to arrive for the usual 10:30 am start. My health has not been at its best and knowing this Nickianne arranged for me to have rail tickets. I would have gone for the advanced booked train type but her travel agent must have been psychic as he sent me expensive ones that permitted me to travel on any train to my destination.

As I was leaving early in the morning, I had to get to a main rail station and luckily I live close to the direct night bus route that runs through to Heathrow.
I left the house at 5:15 to catch this bus to Southall station. The train was on time and I made it through to Paddington Station where I took the circle line to Euston square and walked the four minutes further to the terminus. The boards said the Liverpool train would leave from platform 11. I had time to buy a breakfast roll and a coffee before I proceeded to the platform, which I did.

Clutching my spoils (I am supposed not to eat bacon and eggs because of the cholesterol content, according to my middle daughter), I made my way to the platform. The board at the platform said that a different train was leaving from there so I went back to the main boards. My train was now showing as delayed. I waited. Eventually I went and sat down to drink the coffee. They announced that my train was now cancelled but the next train was only fifteen minutes away so I waited. They announced that it was delayed and then it was cancelled.

A Norwegian gentleman sat down next to me. He was traveling with his two teenage children to just beyond Manchester. We chatted about travel in general and the situation in particular. I suggested that he speak to the station personnel, as they would probably know of a different route that he could take. He thanked me and went off to do this.

Finally it was announced that all the Virgin trains were cancelled to the North West due to a problem at Rugby. They advised us to go to another station. In my case this was Marylebone. I could not get there directly via their underground network so I had to go out to Kings Cross change lines and come back to Baker Street, change lines and then arrive at Marylebone. This involved an awful lot of stairs, some of which were twice the normal height and endless tunnels. There were no lifts or escalators. I had a suitcase with me as I was going on to Preston after Liverpool and I also had my trusty backpack.

Chilton trains run Marylebone and they go to Birmingham. Unfortunately they go via all the stations in the Chilterns.

Being now in unknown territory, I turned on my mobile and phoned home. Luckily middle daughter deigned to pick the telephone up. As I rarely use the mobile I had not included Nickianne’s number on it so she telephoned Liverpool for me and explained the situation. The she telephoned me back and started to trace a route via the computer. I must point out here that she is not our family whiz kid when it comes to computers but she really tried. It seemed that there were three main terminuses in Birmingham and it was hard to decipher which train from where went to one that would have a suitable train leaving for Liverpool. I turned off the mobile to conserve batteries. When I turned it back on I found that Nickianne had left me voice mail. She recommended I go to Leamington Spa and catch another Birmingham train from there. I got off at Leamington Spa and changed trains.

A miracle they had a train going to Liverpool. It was on platform 3B. I went down two flights to the platform. They then announced no it had been cancelled and another would leave from 4A. I went up the stairs and down again. No they announced it is now from 5 A. This particular station appeared to have been built on the same lines as the infamous spaghetti junction, it seemed to be on three or four floors with some disparity in the numbering system. I also swear that I heard giggling from the announcement system. I met people I had been on other trains with as I went back up and then back down the stairs. On the final flight down, we were now running and I tripped and almost fell half the flight. I got on the train, it was packed solid but a lady insisted that I take a seat. I suspected that I must look as if I was about to expire, I certainly felt like I was! The train stopped everywhere so by the time I got to Liverpool I was exhausted.

Normally at this point I would have walked but considering the time and the fact that I had aged at least one hundred years, I fell into a taxi, only to discover that he was not certain where I was going. It seemed that he called it something different. I directed him. He seemed genuinely pleased that he now knew that it was the Dean Walters Building and not that art gallery place. As I finally walked into the lecture room they applauded and said ‘your up next’. It was almost 3pm.

No they were joking. I was up next but Nickianne called tea at this point and they allowed me to eat! I had missed most of the papers that I was interested in and only got to hear two apart from my own. We had a strong discussion going and it was fascinating. People promised to send me DVD’s of programmes I could not access and we exchanged tips on books and places to find further information. I then went to the station to catch the train to Preston.

Yes you have guessed it, unfortunately it was the day that the tall ships were in at the docks and many people had come to see them. This also meant that too many others wanted the same train and I could not get on board. I waited for the next train and this meant that I had to change at Wigan. People were packed on like cattle. Most of them left the train before Wigan, which did make me annoyed as the previous train must have been similar and I could not contact youngest daughter as my mobile was now out of credit thanks to my phoning back and forth to middle daughter for directions on journeys out. On the plus side I had some interesting conversations and met new and fascinating people, which does not normally occur on the train.

The journey back from Preston dawned. The train was delayed. I started to worry. It was seven minutes late. It arrived. Somehow it speeded up and took only two and a half hours to get to Euston. However, it took another one and a half hours to get across London and home.

In November I am heading back to Liverpool. I may be rested enough to attempt it by then.