Small Heath, the Balti triangle and er cows on the railway line...
The driver announcement in the railway carriage didn't bode too well for the forthcoming journey:
"ladies and gentlemen, I would like to apologise for the delay to your journey. This has been caused by a cow that has wondered onto the railway line..."
This was said with not a hint of humour or sarcasm. In-fact the driver was speaking in very serious tones and with matter of factly exactitude - and this is one of the peculiarities of the British ain't it? The steely professionalism. The cast iron gaze in the face of absurdity.
The train hurtled through English countryside and then bellowed past the long abandoned stone mills and factories of industrial Britain that lie on the outskirts of Birmingham; permanent reminders of a great industrial heritage. The train finally chugged into New Street Station - a mighty, concrete monolith; an ugly sore for the eyes. Yes, there are many more urbane and modern stations out there, with glittering lights, beautifully crafted people spaces, well designed 'consumption booths' and ergonomically designed relaxation spaces where one's stresses are supposed to evaporate into thin air - but I suppose this station does the job it was designed to do; although I must say it does look rather odd next to the futuristic vision that the now fully re-designed Bull Ring shopping centre exudes and encapsulates.
You travel to the ends of the earth in search of the worst. The worst food. The worst hotels. Worst people. Worst airports. Worst officials and the worst transport. Who would have thought that after Cuba, Guatemala, Belize, Vietnam, Nepal et al, I would find the worst transport right here in modern Great Britain; member of the G8 and permanent member of the UN council. Ladies and gentlemen, please allow me the honour to introduce to you, the London Euston - Birmingham New Street railway service!
- the flyers should read the following:
"why travel to India for the 3rd world experience, when you can get it right here on your own doorstep!"
Yes Ok, the seats are comfortable, the air-con works a treat, the ticket inspectors are pleasant, no stinking aroma of stale breath, dry sweat, piss, fart fumes, baby puke that is the stench of people in poor countries, but if there's a 'slight' problem though, it all grinds to a halt. On the return journey due to a 'fatality' on the tracks I was left stranded at Coventry for 3 hours. Yes, there are worst places then Coventry but it got me thinking. If this had been Kenya, If this had been the Nairobi to Mombasa express, they would have removed the fatality from the track in minutes; no waiting around for Transport Police, no flaffing about with paperwork, bureacracy, officialdom - none of that. Shove the body out of the way and let the train pass. Yes it's crude. Yes it's probably wrong, but how I miss 3rd world lack of professionalism. Go Kenya! - Go figure!
