Blighty 2025 - Homeward Bound Part One

Leaving a holiday rental is always traumatic. Tidying up, packing, and trying not to forget anything, and all before 10am. We had too many bags, and a couple of them were overweight, so packing and repacking was the order of the day, then doing a kind of puzzle, working out the best way to get the bags into the car while leaving room for passengers. Oh Lordy, holidays!

When I lived in the UK, I never liked driving along the M6 between Birmingham and Manchester. It's always been busy, and always seemed to carry a seriously high density of lorries. In the intervening years, things have not improved, and this despite the previous three lanes each way being expanded to four by utilising what had been the hard shoulder. Well, it used to be three lanes of slow moving traffic, now it's four lanes of slow moving traffic, giving life to the maxim that traffic will always expand to fill the existing road space.

This Wednesday morning was no exception to the way it had always been, wall to wall lorries and speeds well below the posted limit. Essentially, the road runs at capacity most of the time and any little glitch just causes chaos. This morning's little bit of fun was a lorry with a big static caravan on it's bed. The caravan was quite wide, so there was escort vehicle behind it, and in my innocence I imagined that because it was a wide load, it might well stay in the driving lane, that is the left lane, while it made progress. Not so this wagon. It picked up speed quite quickly, and started to pass people on the left, those people who were unwise enough not to drive faster than the lorry with the caravan. You might say that people should always drive in the left lane, and I would agree, but sometimes when you're passing people who are in the left lane, your lane slows, and then you have crazy lorry drivers whizzing up on your left with a wide load and getting perilously close to you. That was bad enough, but then the wide load driver decides the left lane's too slow, and one by one he moves out to the third from the left, and only stays there because he's not allowed in the right lane. So, he's doing sixty-five miles and hour, with a wide load, and squeezing faster vehicles as they try to go past him, legitimately, in the right lane. It only takes one driver doing sixty-six, or a nervous person in the right lane, to slow up that right lane and cause the brake lights to go for miles back, in a chain reaction. Meanwhile, our wide load lorry driver is still thrashing down the road, quite oblivious to the mayhem behind him. Because such bone-headed driving can only be done by a man.

Indeed, all the way to Birmingham, lorries occupied all three left-side lanes, this forcing anyone who needed to pass to the one passing lane remaining, on the right. I think there is a genuine case for lorries to be limited to the two left lanes only, but they don't always adhere to the rule saying they can't use the right lane, so I don't know how far that would get us.

It was a blessed relief, then, to pull onto the M6 Toll, and suddenly see the lorries, and a good deal of the other traffic, simply evaporate. To use that road is £10 well spent in my view.

Once through the construction work on the M42 to the east of Birmingham, and then on to the M40, it all became much more civilised. Sure it was busy, but I was able to drive in the left lane for some of the time, thanks to fewer lorries, which was quite the novelty.

As we approached London, the lady in the navigation system dutifully guided us down through Hayes, rather than directly to the airport, and our hotel for the night. I had it in my head that petrol was expensive around the airport, so set our destination to a Tesco filling station. As it happened, we stumbled upon a Sainsbury's first, so filled up there. I'm not sure how the rented car's fuel gauge worked because after I'd filled up the night before, it showed a range of exactly 500 miles. When I stopped to fill up again, some 200 miles later, it was showing a range of 475 miles. To add to the confusion, the car would only take £36 worth of petrol. A quick calculation made that around 75 miles to the Imperial gallon. While I'm happy to agree that 55-60 miles to the gallon was achievable, I think 75 miles to the gallon was quite the stretch. Anyway, it was still a good return, whatever the actual figure. We'd driven just short of 3,000 miles since picking the car up, and this was only the fourth time I'd put any fuel in. Now why can't North American cars be so economical?

The next stop was the Hyatt Place Hotel, just on Heathrow's northern perimeter. We had booked a couple of rooms for the night so that we could chill out and prepare for an early-ish flight out the following day. Maybe it was an abundance of caution, but we didn't want to be caught in dreadful traffic coming down from Manchester on the same day as we had to get a flight; my stress would have known no bounds. We also elected to keep the car for an extra day so that we could load all our stuff in it and drive it over to T5 rather than trying to get it all on a bus or in a taxi, and that's where the Hyatt Place came up trumps with its sexy underground car park. While the £17 overnight charge may seem steep, compared with some of the fees we'd paid over the past month, it wasn't bad at all.

The rooms in the hotel were small, but probably no smaller than in most London hotels. They were clean and well appointed, and both had a view over the airport and its northern runway, which was nice (although I think we'd paid a premium for an airport facing room). The scary thing was that the room was so well soundproofed, you could see the aircraft taking off 200 metres away, but couldn't hear them! I think the road noise outside also helped because later in the evening when the traffic had calmed down, you could just hear a low rumble as the jets took off. It was like someone had turned the sound off. Needless to say, I slept well.

Wednesday, tomorrow, was to be flying day - hold on to your hats!

Blighty 2025 - Travel

Yesterday was our third and final trip into London. We drove to Didcot Parkway railway station again, paid the nearly £8 parking fee and walked into the station concourse, as we had previously, although this time I had our travel tickets, printed when I collected the previous trip's tickets.

There had been an "Incident" somewhere between Didcot and London that was messing up the train schedule, but we managed to board a packed train that was stopping only at Reading and London. The rail network in and around London is amazing, so complex and heavily used, and it runs fairly well on any given day. Incidents, though, do mess things up and I doubt that the 1320hrs to London would have been that busy otherwise. But we all had seats, and the train was fast, and we emerged from it into the vast cavern that is Paddington Station, and I hit the noise filter on my hearing aids. London is such a noisy place.

We had to make a quick run to an Argos store, the reason isn't important. I divined that there was one some fifteen minutes walk from the station, but why walk when you have a Transport for London (TfL) Oyster card in your pocket? After the mandatory loo break, we stood on Eastbourne Terrace, curiously on the west side of the station, and waited for a bus. Now the TfL phone app is a thing of wondrous beauty, and while I had already worked out that we could get a Number 7 bus, the app said we could get a 36 as an alternative. Sure enough, a 36 lurched around the corner and we boarded it for the short trip to George Street, on the Edgeware Road.

Then it was off to Portobello Road, also on a Number 7 bus, only this time going west, not east. The app said there was "Disruption" on the route, so it was an unusual ten minute wait, but the bus wasn't too busy and we made our way up to the top deck for the fifteen minute ride. 

I have a social comment to make here, and it's about mobile phones. I have one, yes, so I don't eschew the whole rationale behind them, but boy are they ever intrusive? There was a man at the bus stop, walking around and talking loudly into his phone. He got on the bus of course, and continued to talk loudly into his phone. He got off the bus and he was still talking loudly into his phone. Everyone else was treated to half his call, which was nice. That was just one, though. All day we encountered people talking loudly into their phones while riding the bus, or the tube, or walking down the street, or whatever. Are these people so important that they can't wait to hold their long conversations until they find somewhere quieter and more private? I guess it's me getting old, but it doesn't seem too difficult to me to keep phone calls to less public places. I mean, what did these folks do before the invention of the shouting machine? 

Dear Wife made another social comment. She said she liked getting away from the tourist-dominated parts of Central London and mingle with some of the people who live in the great Metropolis. West of Paddington you're into Ladbroke Grove, where the people are more likely to be residents. The ethnic mix of Londoners is wonderful to see, and to hear, and I don't care what the current obsession with right-wing politicians is about, diversity IS strength. 

In Portobello Road is a market. There's a different one every day, for six days a week. I'm not sure what Monday's theme was but the road was closed to traffic and it was lined on both sides by stalls selling all sorts of weird and wonderful stuff, including what's known these days as "Street Food", which smelled divine. The street is also home to masses of interesting little shops, cafes and restaurants, and I'd imagine that you could happily spend many hours there. Unfortunately for us, Charlie was tired and was hankering for a ride on the Underground, so we fairly whisked along through the market, to our destination which was a shop used as a filming location in the second Paddington Bear movie. Sadly, Charlie wasn't much interested in the shop, but we did get the photos before moving off to the Underground Station at Notting Hill Gate. There are a lot of terraced houses in that part of Town, gentrified for sure, very expensive to buy, but very nice to observe as we walked. Many were brightly painted, but the presence of so many Banham door locks and burglar alarms told us these were wealthy people's homes in what was once a poor part of London. There were some bulky, brick built, 1920s London County Council apartment blocks, but even those looked to have been sold off. Margaret Thatcher is responsible for a lot of bad stuff, I can tell you.

We were making for Waterloo Station and a rendezvous with family. Charlie enjoyed his Tube ride, and we enjoyed another loo break and a snack, while people watching in that other huge cavern of a railway station. Unfortunately there was a very loud busker giving it some welly close by, and that added to the general level of the noise.

Heading home from Waterloo, we rode the Tube again, straight to Paddington this time. As we approached Paddington, though, the train's guard came onto the PA system and said that there was no rail service westbound out of Paddington. What? I had visions of trying to get hotel rooms in London for the night because there is no real alternative to getting to Didcot and the car other than by train. As we came up into the mainline station, though, I was mightily relieved to see the departure boards all functioning as they should, and trains apparently running normally. The guard on the Tube train clearly had old information and, as our arch-researcher, DW, discovered, the cause of the rail disruption was in fact the "incident" that had occurred in the morning and was long resolved. Although not specifically labelled as such, it looked like someone had decided to end it all on the tracks at Hanwell Station. The language of the reports suggested suicide, and the reference to The Samaritans kind of sealed it. I can't imagine being moved to do such a thing, and while lots of people were delayed earlier in the day, that's as nothing compared to the poor person at Hanwell.

We ran to catch a fast train back to Didcot, which was packed, of course. I upset everyone when I said to a young woman that she shouldn't have her shopping bags on the train seat when it's so busy, and she gave up her shopping bags' seat, and her sitting seat, and left the car entirely! Maybe I shouldn't have said that bit out loud, but it pisses me off when people use seats for their bags, very clearly in the hope that no one will sit next to them. I saw it on the morning train, too, and some people are just so polite that they won't ask, nay demand, that people leave the seats for people, and not for bags. I guess years of commuting frustration got to me.

Despite all my grumbles, the public transport network actually functions really well in and around London, and the fact that just about every train we caught was packed full tends to speak of its success. I am not a fan of privatised trains and their labyrinthine ticketing, but with tighter Government control, things are getting better. TfL's Oyster Card is great, as is its control of public transport within the Capital. I'm not saying it's as cheap as chips to use TfL's services, but the cost of getting around in London these days is acceptable. Kids who are eleven and under travel free in London, too, although five and over have to have their own, free, Oyster Card. Isn't that great?

We're done travelling to London now, at least for this trip. I will be reporting on the fun and games in Andy Burnham's Greater Manchester travel systems next week. Watch this space.

Blighty 2025 - Wizarding in Watford

Today was the long-planned trip to Warner Brothers Harry Potter Studio Tour in Watford. Oh, alright, Leavesden, but it's still Watford.

Tickets cost a small fortune, and the reduction in price for Charlie was miserly, but this place is something akin to the Theme Parks in Florida, so will be charging Florida prices. Still, you only go once, don't you? Sorry, I forgot, you only go twice. Charlie, of course, was on a high as he was about to visit his beloved Hogwarts Express.

It's a shade over seventy miles from Shipton to Leavesden, an hour and a half according to Google, but what does Google know? I had prevaricated about cutting across country to reach the A41 and drop in from the north west, avoiding the dreaded M25, because it was going to be Friday afternoon. But that was nearer two hours, and there looked to be roadworks around Thame and Aylesbury so I thought sod it, lets go A40, M40, M25. It's only a few miles on the awful Orbital. That, gentle reader, was my big mistake.

We set off just before 2pm, with tickets for the tour timed for 4:30. The A40 to Oxford was busy but moving, then around North Oxford it was busy and not moving. Roundabouts, traffic lights and Friday afternoon traffic do not combine well. We crawled, stopped and started around the north of that great city and it seemed to take an age to reach the motorway, although I wasn't watching the time.

The M40 was busy, but moving at a good clip, as were we, until I saw a sign saying delays on the M25, and they said delays of 45 minutes to an hour. DW did a quick check on her phone to see where the delay was and sure enough, an "incident" between the M40 and the Watford turn had the entire section stopped. Why had I not gone with my first instinct and used the A41?

Thinking quickly, I thought I might try approaching from the south, using my old commuting route to Northwood, through Ruislip and Moor Park. But, as I knew would happen, every road within a few miles of the M25 was gummed up something rotten, with schools kicking out, the Friday getaway and the mess on the motorway all combining. We moved very slowly towards Moor Park, then to Rickmansworth, but then I let the Satnav take over, and all of a sudden we were on the road to the M25 again, albeit just one junction from the Watford turn. I did try to work out a cross-country route while stuck in solid line of traffic north of Rickmansworth, but when I went to make the turn, a vehicle recovery truck turned in first and blocked the entire road as it was too wide to get past all the cars coming out of that road. Once again I thought sod it, and carried on to the M25, given that the previously solid line of stopped traffic was now moving. Once on the M25, busy though it was, we were moving, and in a few minutes we were diving off onto the... wait for it... A41, to get into Leavesden. We were well past our allotted ticket time, but the good people at the tour didn't seem to mind. We collected our Golden Snitch for the priority parking that we'd paid for, and rolled into Car Park 1 ready for some wizarding magic.

Almost three hours to do seventy miles. Where's that damned broomstick when you need it?

The tour was very good, of course. Quite a bit more swept up than our last visit, which was probably more than ten years ago. We had a few dancing girls and boys, and some audio-visual special effects to negotiate, but it all added to the experience. When we reached the Hogwarts Express, the loco and a couple of carriages from the films, Charlie was in ecstasy, and had to be dragged away. Twice!

We had a fast food meal, which for the others was vegan, and actually quite good according to them. My eyes watered at the bill, over £40 for burger and chips, hot dog and chips, loaded fries and a drink, but heck, they have us captive. 

Of course these places gouge you in the gift shops, which is why I came out empty handed. Emma splashed the cash, but then she and Charlie were immersed in the whole thing. Me, I resent handing over £20 for a not great quality tee-shirt with the Warner Brothers logo on it when I can get get two comparable quality tee-shirts, without the advertising, in Sainsbury's for £8. But then I'm just a miserable old git.

We spent a good three hours on the tour, and could have spent longer, but tired legs and a tired child caught up with us. Despite my grumbles, I did enjoy it and I'm always amazed at the efforts film makers go to to produce a feature film. Mind you, while millions may have been spent in production, many millions more have been, and are being, earned.

While mingling with so many people on the tour, I was struck by what I consider to be the bad behaviour of some of the other "guests". On the tour there were a lot of people who were not averse stepping part-way into a queue, which is something simply not done in the UK. Then there were the people who walked through a queue rather than walk around it, often nudging others out of the way to do so. The worst for me, though, were the adults who moved around oblivious of the children there. Knocking into them, barging past to stand in front of them, and generally behaving like they weren't there. I don't know about you, but if there are kids around then you take care to make sure that you don't knock into them, and you allow them to see what's going on, and not be so darned selfish. It reminded me of my trip to Disney-hell in Florida many years ago when adults were queue-jumping to get ahead of kids waiting patiently. Goodness I sound old.

The run home was clear, and took an hour and a half, including a stop for petrol, so Google was right all along. Once again I retired early, which was more of a necessity given my advancing years and the pace of this holiday.

Saturday is a "down day", no plans to do anything, just catching up on some rest. Thank goodness.

Blighty 2025 - The Paddington Bear Experience

Trip number two to the Big Smoke, London, and a visit to the Paddington Bear Experience for young Charlie.

I'd managed to replicate the good deal on train fares from Didcot to London, so we made our way there in time to get a mid-morning train. Trying to negotiate the payment machine in the car park, I realised that I may not have paid for the full stay last week, so I'm wondering if there will be an excess charge waiting for me at the car hire place when we return the car. That and the speeding ticket I may have picked up. Tsk.

The morning trains into London are busy, so we elected to take the slow train that started from Didcot, having seen the hordes awaiting the fast train from somewhere further west. We were right, too, because as the fast train pulled out of the station, there were people standing in its aisles. It's an interesting sight for people who live in North America to see a fast and very frequent service to London always rammed full. Public transport in Ontario is sparse, expensive and, as a result, poorly used.

We arrived in London with plenty of time to spare, and made our way by Tube to Westminster to witness Big Ben sounding out the twelve "bongs" of noon. The trouble was, just like our visit in 2023, it was pouring with rain. We shuffled around a bit in the lobby of the Tube station, bought a quick Greggs lunch and ate it standing up outside the shop. At about 1140, we ventured out and the rain had mostly moved on, so we took up a position part way across Westminster Bridge and waited in the spitting rain and blustery wind, admiring the iconic scenery of Central London. London is constantly changing, so the skyline is quite different compared to when I moved to London in 1977. But, most of the older buildings have been cleaned up and are no longer soot-blackened. Indeed, Big Ben's home, the Elizabeth Tower, has been so well restored that it looks new.

Bongs duly delivered, we shuffled over to the old Greater London Council's offices on the South Bank, which is now a hotel and home to various tourist attractions, including the Paddington Bear Experience. On the way, we took a quick gander at the National Covid Memorial, something the conspiracy theorists and anti-vaccination people should do, it's sobering. That side of the river, opposite the Palace of Westminster, is often used as a film location, and if I can dig out my favourite photo of Ingrid Bergman and Alfred Hitchcock there, I'll add it to the blog.

I opted not to partake in the Paddington Bear bonanza, but grandson, grandma and mum were ushered in, some way in advance of the time on their tickets. I shuffled off in search of a seat, maybe in a bar or a coffee shop, but ultimately never found one. I don't like drinking in pubs on my own, nor sitting in coffee bars, and I wasn't in the least bit hungry, so I walked around Waterloo Station for a while, then made my way back to the pre-arranged meeting spot. Sadly I had underestimated the Paddington Experience time, and spent the next hour waiting alternately outside by the river, or inside the building when it rained, all without a seat.

While there, I spent my time admiring all the adult teachers and chaperones leading big lines of school children on their summer day out (what a job!), listening to the multitude of languages being spoken, and marvelling at just how noisy London is, even outside. Perhaps I should have turned my electric ears off?

When the Paddington thing was done, and a good time was had, I believe, Emma decided to take Charlie on the London Eye, the big wheel thing by the river. It was £42 for her and £38 for him, so a combined total of £80, which was far too rich for us grown ups, and frankly quite the rip-off for a 25 minute spin on a wheel. There were combination deals available that dropped the individual price if you visited other attractions, but the costs were alarming when you add them all up. It is expensive in London, I know that, but there's some serious gouging going on in the tourist hotspots. It was ever thus, I suppose, but it annoys me all more now I'm older.

We had an afternoon to use up, and the rain had abated, so we decided to head up to Chalk Farm and the filming location for the Brown's house in the first two Paddington Bear films. There's some serious money (and a lot of Range Rovers) in Primrose Hill, and it showed as we walked through leafy streets. I'm sure the owners of 30 Chalcot Crescent must get fed up with with people photographing their house, but we did it anyway.

From Chalcot Crescent we walked through to Primrose Hill Park, and that wonderful vantage point over London that features in so many films (although curiously not Padding Bear films). It's quite a steep walk up there, but the view was a great reward. For Charlie to see the London Eye and the Elizabeth Tower from up there made the excursion worthwhile.

Michael Cain at Primrose Hill in the film, The Fourth Protocol

An executive decision was made to schlepp over to Hackney to visit Sutton and Son's Fish and Chip shop, home of the extensive chip shop vegan menu. We were there in 2023, and really enjoyed the food, so felt it was worth the effort of getting there.

Transport for London (TfL) has an excellent phone app that will plan you a journey based on your location, but it has to be used with some discretion. The first couple of options it threw up would have taken us on exciting trips through London but without getting us very far, very quickly. Using my local knowledge, I filtered out the impractical options and went for a bus to Camden Road Station, and the Mildmay Line to Hackney Central. There were other options has I chosen to go to Hackney Downs station, or any other location nearby, but when you enter a specific location, the app has no discretion, although you have to use some.

The traffic was bad, but sat on the top deck of a bus it doesn't seem so awful. We missed a train at Camden Road, faffing around using the lift at the station, and the next train that came along, only ten minutes later, was rammed. But it was only a few stops, and we tumbled out of the train with lots of other people at Hackney Central. It's only a short walk around to Graham Road, and Sutton's. Well, the meal was fab, as it was before, and made a fitting final event of the day. 

Emma made the point that in Hackney, were surrounded not by tourists, but by local people, and it made her happy to think that. I'd add that the ethnic mix in Hackney is wonderful; everyone's a Londoner, but from a multitude of global backgrounds. It's excellent.

I had planned to go back to Town on the bus, but was outvoted by Charlie, We climbed onto another rammed Mildmay Line train to Highbury and Islington, then onto rammed Tube trains back to Paddington Station and our train back to Didcot. All the day's running around had been using our pre-paid Oyster Cards, just tapping into a station and back out at the other end, or tapping onto a bus. There are lots of other ways to pay your way, but Oyster is easiest and cheapest. This was our second time in London on this trip and I'd still only used about £15 of the £25 I'd pre-paid. We may need to top the cards up for our next visit, but given all the travelling we'd done, it's been great value.

Back at Padddington Station, we had to wait a short while as our cheap day tickets were not valid until after 7pm. The first fast train was up on the destination board, but no platform number was listed. The platform was only indicated with about nine minutes to go before the train was due to leave, which meant a massive crush of people suddenly headed to the entry gate at once. This is standard practice at London termini, and I'm not sure I understand why given that the train had been sat at the platform when we arrived at the station. Network Rail who operate the stations, and the train companies, have been roundly criticized for this practice, particularly at Euston where crushes of people have reached dangerous proportions. It doesn't seem like anything has been done to address the issue, though. I can't imagine having to suffer this day after day.

The fast train was fast and we were back at Didcot before 8pm, and home by 9pm. A very long day, for sure, but heck, that's what we're here for.

Blighty 2025 - Up in the Smoke

Today was the first of our three planned trips to London, the Smoke.

I'd left booking the train tickets until the last minute because I wasn't sure the trip would go ahead, especially given the forecast rain, but we jigged around the things we'd planned to do and booked the tickets the night before. 

Since the privatisation of Britain's railways, fares have become labyrinthine. We were at least spared the problem of dealing with different rail companies, but long gone are the days when you could pitch up at the station and ask for a "Cheap Day Return". Dear Wife and I have a discount card that gives 33% off the price of train tickets if we travel together, so trying to work that into the equation when Emma doesn't have a discount card, and still get a good price, is tough. Then working around the restrictions on cheaper tickets adds another level of difficulty, as does the availability of some fares. However, in a moment of madness, I entered an option of three adult tickets, travelling after 0930hrs, without using our discount card, and the computer said yes. Travel as a group of three, and not only did they offer the Off-Peak tickets we wanted, but also a discount fare for everyone! A potential return fare of £48 was reduced to £19.80. Sure, the first return train from London that we could get was post-1900hrs, but we simply had to take a later train into London so that our day wasn't too long. I booked the "Groupsave" tickets, and opted to pick the physical tickets up at Didcot Station.

The rain was coming down in a very English manner as we drove out of Shipton-under-Wychwood, constant but not heavy. It was a slow cross-country drive to Abingdon, then down the A34 for a short way, then into Didcot. Having lived in that area for fifteen years, I know it fairly well, but I was quite taken aback at the housing development that's taken place. Didcot was expanding when I left in 2009, but it had expanded significantly more now. The station had grown a shiny new multi-storey car park, and because we were parking in the afternoon, the usual daily charge of £4.25 was reduced to £2.25, which pleased me greatly.

I had a wee bit of bother collecting the tickets from the machine in the station, though. It wanted my booking reference, so I went onto my phone only to find that the e-mail with the reference number hadn't loaded into the app. Naturally there was no phone signal on either of my phone's e-SIMs, so I had to sign up to the station's Wi-Fi. Not really a huge issue, except that they wanted more details about me than the Government does. However, I persevered, and as soon as the Wi-Fi connected, up came my e-mail. I made a note to ensure that my phone had loaded all my emails before leaving the cottage next time!

Tickets collected, we made our way to the platforms and awaited the trains. The Great Western Railway company has, with Government help invested in a lot of new rolling stock, including the nice Hitachi sets we'd travelled on at the weekend. National Rail, the people who look after the infrastructure, had installed overhead electric power lines, so these new Hitachis run on electricity from Didcot into London (I'm not sure how far west the electrification goes), but can also run as diesels when there is no electricity available, like from Charlbury to Oxford. I like that.

The train was busy, of course, and it always makes me wonder why five car sets are run when nine car sets are available. Accountants' thinking I suppose. We did get a seat each, albeit a few rows apart, although I had to warn Emma to point out to the ticket collector where we were sitting because on a Groupsave, we had to travel together. Actually, the ticket collector, or Revenue Collection Officer, Matty, was very thorough in his work. Given those labyrinthine ticket structures, discount cards and travel restrictions, he spent a lot of time explaining the rules, and collecting money, from people. Far from being officious, he was being helpful, and keeping everyone honest, which has been a problem on British railways in the past.

The trains in the UK , at least those running into London, are frequent and fast. It's fifty-seven miles from Didcot to Paddington, and in a car it would take you an hour and a half. On the train it was thirty-nine minutes, and that was with a stop at Reading. It's smooth, quiet and stress-free. Mind you, I might not say that if I had to travel every day into London like a lot of people do, indeed like I did in the 1980s.

At Paddington Station, Charlie was overawed. He's been watching the Paddington Bear films, so has seen the place on the big screen, but the noise and bustle of the place in real life quite surprised him. He'll often wear ear defenders when external noise gets too great, and he asked for them as soon as we alighted from the train. He went to see the Paddington Bear statue, and the Paddington Bear bench, and had photos taken of course. It's half-term week here in the UK, and there are a lot of kids out and about with parents. It's a bit disturbing to witness the brazen entitlement of some of those parents, though. Selfishness hasn't improved in the time I've been away.

We made our way down drizzly Praed Street, past St Mary's Hospital (well known to me in a previous life), and onto a mercifully quiet branch of Greggs the Bakers. Greggs used to be a fairly small North London bakery chain, but in recent years it's gone national in a big way, selling a limited range of hot and cold ready-to-eat food, including their famous vegan sausage rolls. There are other vegan goodies, as well, which is why we were there. It was a very pleasant lunch break, and Charlie enjoyed his TWO ring doughnuts.

We walked on down to Edgware Road tube station with a view to getting to Covent Garden. I had wanted to go by bus, but Transport for London's rather excellent phone app showed we'd need a couple of bus route changes and some walking, so I thought the Tube would be easier. Circle Line to Kings Cross, then Piccadilly Line to Covent Garden. TfL uses something called an Oyster Card, a pre-paid card that you can carry physically, or have on your phone, to access trains, tubes and buses. The fares using Oyster are reasonable, and there's a daily cap so you can get to a point where your travel is essentially free. If you plan to travel by bus, then an Oyster card is a must as they don't take cash. That said, you can also use Apple or Google Pay, or any card in your Google Wallet through your phone instead of Oyster. I don't know if the discounts or caps apply if you do that, but either way, cash has all but disappeared. We'd bought some physical Tourist Oyster cards, pre-loaded with credit (although we could just as easily have obtained Oyster Cards from any Tube station), only Emma forgot to bring hers. Step up Mum, who'd brough one that we'd used a couple of years ago. We added some new credit though a machine at the tube station, and we were off. 

While I think about it, I have to give credit to both the rail companies and TfL where children's travel is concerned. Rail companies allow kids under five to travel free, and older kids to get at least 50% discount, and it can be up to 80% with a Travelcard. TfL allow all kids under 12 to travel free, although kids over five have to have a Kids' Oyster card, to allow school kids to travel on their own, and to be logged in and out through the barriers. It really gets kids into the public transport mindset, which can only be a good thing.

On the Tube, we did the trip to Covent Garden, which is one of the few stations in Central London that doesn't have escalators. You can walk up the 199 steps if you want, but most people opt to use one of the elevators. I only mention that because in recent times, Covent Garden has become one of the most visited tube stations on the network, and the elevators can cause big delays in busy times. Fortunately this day it wasn't bad at all.

You may know that the current "Covent Garden", the shopping, eating and entertainment hot spot, was once London's fruit, vegetable, and flower market. It closed in 1975 and moved to a more lorry-friendly spot at Nine Elms, south of the river. When I arrived in London in 1977 the market was all boarded up and the area was a ghost town. But, a few years and quite a bit of money later, it's one of London's premier spot for visitors. It is actually quite a good place to visit. It's noisy and bustling, with street entertainers and expensive shops, all mixed in with a pub, restaurants and plenty of smaller places to eat. Again, if I had to work around there, as I once did, I might not find it quite so agreeable as I did this afternoon.

Our reason for being at Covent Garden was to satisfy our wet-weather option of visiting the London Transport museum. It's been there for quite a while, but I'd never been, so I was quite looking forward to it. Dear wife and I had to pay £24 each, but that allows us to visit at any time, and as often as we like, for the next twelve months. Yes, I know, we won't be here for more than a couple of weeks, but the price was the same as a day ticket, so why not? We may go back, you never know. Charlie didn't have to pay because he is under five, but because he had his ear defenders on, the greeter assumed some disability on his part and allowed Emma free entry as well, as his carer. Charlie is autistic, and I guess the greeter recognised that with the ear defenders. How progressive of the museum!

The London Transport Museum was great. The exhibits were excellent, especially as the kids could get in or on quite a few of them. The interpretation material was good, and there were many, many helpful staff on duty. The place was heaving, of course, it being half-term, but it didn't detract from the experience. Was £24 a bit steep for entry? Probably, but that is an annual ticket. The gift shop was full of exciting things, quite expensive things, but heck, why not gouge the tourists? I bought a baseball cap, only to find that it doesn't fit. How can a baseball cap not fit?  Ho hum.

We walked over to Leicester Square to see the Lego Store, and the movie statues in the garden there. Leicester Square is the home of Britain's premier cinemas, and there seemed to be the makings of a film premier set up there outside one of the cinemas. It's all go, up in the Smoke.

As we had a bit of time to spare, we thought we'd take a bus from Charing Cross to Tower Hill, in order to see Tower Bridge. The number 15 bus runs along the Strand and the river all the way, so we dutifully joined the scrum of people waiting at the bus stop. A 15 went the other way, turned around and parked up just short of the bus stop, the driver on a break. The TfL app said the bus was due in four minutes, but with another three minutes behind it. But we waited fifteen minutes while the scrum grew bigger and that one bus didn't move. I suggested waking down to the Embankment to catch the tube, but Charlie wanted the bus. As a compromise, and knowing that when the 15 did move it would be packed, I suggested catching a number 9 to the Aldwych, only a few minutes ride, and that placated the boy. We rode the top deck right up to the Aldwych, then got off, for the bus terminated there, and walked around to Temple station to get on the Underground.

Tower Hill was a bit of a let down because the Tower of London was closing for the evening when we arrived, and they had closed off the walk along the river by Tower Bridge. The wind was whipping along the river, too, and there was a cruise ship parked up alongside HMS Belfast, so we didn't get the full Tower Hill experience. Time, though, was pressing on, and we were all knackered by this point. Charlie deserves some significant credit for hanging on in there, where many a four-year-old would have given up hours before.

We took a Circle Line train around to Paddington, then opted to catch the slow train back to Didcot rather than wait for the fast train. Because it was only the second slow train after the cheap ticket restriction time, it was packed and we were standing as the train left the station. A very nice woman gave up her seat for Emma and Charlie, and just as he was about to melt down, I was able to distract him with one of the railway-based gifts Emma had bought at the museum, which was fortunate. After Slough we managed to sit, and then the train really started to empty as we stopped at each station. The fast train passed us while we were stopped at Reading, and we finally rolled into Didcot at 9pm.

We still had a fifty minute drive back to Shipton, but I decided to take the faster roads back, avoiding the country roads in the dark, and we occupied Charlie by looking the coloured "Cat's Eyes" on the road, and all the trucks parked up in the laybys for the night. 

It was a long day, a tiring day, actually a very good day. That was the first of three, so I hope the next two are as good.