Lovely as Luton is, I try not to spend too much time there, but as my flight was arriving relatively late I wouldn’t have time to get back to Norwich. So, as the Thistle seems to have gone up in price, I went for this poorly reviewed little arrangement located near to the railway station. One of the reasons that I ignored the reviews is that booking.com noted that there was a high number of guests who rebooked there, which is usually a positive sign.
I had a ten minute wait at reception but this didn’t concern me as there was air conditioning in this area and I was too hot. After several days in France, I was prepared to tolerate quite significant administrative failure provided something kept blowing cold air at me. There was a phone number to ring in the event of an emergency, so I eventually rang that and a team member came out to complete the check-in process.
A quick look at the fire plan shows the general lack of decadence about the room size, but I like hotels such as this as they’re cheap, affordable and don’t include luxuries that I don’t need. Like windows. There are people who want boutique furnishings, mood lighting and an inspirational selection of cushions from their hotel room. I mostly want somewhere clean to sleep with a plug socket and a temperature that doesn’t make me irritable.
The basic room which was clean, at a temperature that was acceptable to me although not overly cold, and which I thought was entirely satisfactory.
I’d stay here again, I didn’t have any noise issues either internally or externally, although it would have been surprising to have any of the latter given that there was no window. The prices were low (the room was around £35 for the night), the staff member was polite and I was near to JD Wetherspoon and the railway station. For anyone that likes comfort, space and a window, then this is perhaps a little sub-optimal and that would explain the rather poor reviews.
“To stay is to exist, but to travel is to live”. It is unlikely to surprise anyone that I agree with this sentiment, although I suspect whoever coined it had rather more romantic forms of travel in mind than standing in a corridor waiting to board a Wizz Air flight to Luton.
I had eaten, courtesy of Priority Pass, at Alpage and I saw the gate was announced relatively early, I meandered off as it’s never clear how long passport control will take.
The walk to the non-Schengen area of the airport.
Which was shut.
Budget air travel consists of a lot of standing around in corridors and this was no exception as after I had gone through the border control process, which took twenty seconds, I spent 45 minutes standing here. Travel can be very exotic.
Off to board.
The clouds had made the temperature quite reasonable, which was slightly annoying as I was now leaving France after days of being too hot. I may have mentioned the heat once or twice during these posts, although I feel I have shown considerable restraint.
The aircraft was G-WUKZ which I’m not sure that I’ve been on before. The seating Gods gave me an aisle seat and the flight was entirely pleasant. As usual the crew were polite, the service was efficient, the aircraft was clean and everyone travelled towards the destination in roughly the manner aviation intended. This is generally my preferred level of excitement when several thousand feet in the air, so all was well.
However, there was a failed landing and a go-around which was slightly sub-optimal from the point of view I was hoping not to have a delay on this flight. The cabin crew made what sounded like a reassuring scripted announcement before the First Officer followed with something rather more spontaneous. I’m not entirely convinced his additional contribution reduced the anxiety levels of every passenger, but at least nobody began distributing life jackets. And I like a bit of drama anyway.
After another fifteen minutes of faffing about above southern England we landed safely. Around five passengers applauded, which immediately gave me something new to be irritated about. I appreciate that landing an aircraft is considerably more complicated than parking a bicycle, but I generally assume the pilots regard getting us onto the ground safely as part of the agreed service.
And back at Luton Airport and I was ready to walk into the town centre, which I’m not sure that I’d call a treat, but at least the weather was moderate. Too hot, but moderate. Anyway, it was a very lovely trip to France, made slightly sad for me as I knew that it was the last trip abroad for a few weeks. Fortunately, I had returned to Luton, which is certainly one way of ensuring that the desire to travel again remains strong.
Our third match in three weeks was a cup game against the Lionhearts from the White Lion pub. Nathan and I would never say this in public, but we’re the best two captains in the league and I ignored the “they seem to think they’re the Gallagher brothers of bar billiards” comments. We are considerably more professional than that, although there is admittedly some swagger, unnecessary rivalry and an outside possibility that one of us will announce a reunion tour before immediately cancelling it over creative differences.
The draw was conducted in a polite manner and I like their idea of having see-through name tags, I’m going to get Luke to do that next year. Ivan had reliably informed me that he would beat Oscar, so I was already looking forward to taking an early 1-0 lead. I admired his confidence and, against all available evidence, briefly shared it.
Anyway, we went into the second game 1-0 down. It would be unfair to be rude about Ivan here, as I have plenty of other opportunities for that, because he was level with Oscar for much of the game. Unfortunately, bar billiards matches are generally decided by the score at the end rather than the encouraging period somewhere in the middle. This victory also made Oscar unbearable for about fifteen minutes, they really need a responsible woman on that team to restore some discipline. But I didn’t say anything.
Then it was my turn and by now we were 3-0 down and that was very sub-optimal. I knew this was my opportunity to surprise and delight Nathan, so naturally I produced my highest score and best break of the season. Nathan might have been more impressed had I not been doing it against one of his own players, but these are minor details in the pursuit of sporting excellence.
It was a genuinely good game against Fraser, although I have to remain polite about him because he occasionally reads my electricity meter. There are rivalries in sport, but there are also practical considerations involving estimated bills. I’d better add Fraser doesn’t work for EDF, he just lives nearby to me.
Incidentally, Danish Pete (known by that as he’s Danish) scored the most points and he’s my favourite of the Lionhearts because he says nice things about this blog, demonstrating both excellent judgement and a willingness to overlook its declining editorial standards. He’s a published author and that discernment shows.
This also allows me to mention, entirely incidentally, that I recorded the second-highest score of the evening. I would not normally draw attention to my own achievements, so I shall leave that fact sitting quietly here in its own little paragraph.
Alex with the bar snacks. By this time, we had gone into the doubles 4-2 down, but we lost our first doubles games (again, we played the games in a different order to the score-sheet) and so we were knocked out of the cup. That took the pressure off Vaughan and I and we managed to get it to 5-3 and this confirms an important psychological principle that the Artichoke Hearts are at their most dangerous once there is absolutely nothing left to save. I was also distracted by Craig, the organiser of Norwich Beer Festival, heckling me from the rear of the room, but fortunately I was only distracted from eating and not from playing bar billiards. Nothing distracts me there.
The highlight of my evening. I ensured that I got pork scratchings for Nathan, although I think Lee got to most of them first. I was impressed with his speed on the food acquisition, he was certainly not far off being as fast as me. I’m pleased to say that I secured M&Ms so I was happy with the arrangement. I liked Lee’s claim he was just opening the packets to share, I use lines like that too whilst busily eating some from each pack.
I still have no idea why Nathan likes pork scratchings. They resemble fragments removed during emergency repairs to an old leather sofa, but I never say anything. Captaincy sometimes though involves politely looking away while someone eats something that appears to have been recovered from a builder’s skip.
I forgot to take many photos of the game, but here’s the doubles game with PJ, Nick, Fraser and Nathan in the photo. There’s also Kirsty and I think Luke’s arm. I didn’t want to miss anyone out there.
On the bright side, I didn’t have to go to the King’s Head as tradition dictates when we occasionally win. Well done to Pete, Vaughan, Danish Pete and Luke on their high scores, and me of course. I recognise Nathan’s handwriting there, we often forget to record those notable breaks, so thanks for his thoroughness.
It was a thoroughly enjoyable evening and many thanks to the Lionhearts for a close game and excellent company. They deserved their victory, although as one of the two greatest captains in the league I naturally reserve the right to attribute it partly to circumstances beyond my control. And well done to everyone on the Artichoke Hearts, it was a lot of fun and there were numerous close games.
We can now concentrate on the league, largely because the cup has made itself unavailable to us. I’ll watch some more Brian Clough videos before the next match, as the tactical benefits of simply shouting at everyone have yet to be fully explored.
Half the season now completed, we were playing the Serengeti for the second time this year. Following a sub-optimal result against Cottagecore the previous week, I had summoned the players to a training night on the Monday so that we were prepared. I spent some time considering what Brian Clough would have done in the circumstances and concluded that he would almost certainly have called an additional bar billiards practice session in a Norwich pub. The parallels between us are becoming increasingly difficult to ignore.
My highly motivated team were clearly energised, focused and transformed by this intensive preparation, as we promptly lost the first two games. There are occasions when coaching takes a little while to filter through.
Then PJ put us on winning form.
Ivan, against whom I now refuse to hear a single word, followed with another victory. I never doubted him, other than during several earlier matches and most of the previous week.
I bought myself a drink to celebrate the emergence of my new star player. Ivan received the considerably greater reward of knowing that he had briefly earned my approval.
Then the bar snacks appeared. I managed to beat Wes which meant that it was 3-3 going into the doubles part of the evening.
The dream team of myself and Vaughan put us 4-3 up, then Ivan and PJ lost (for anyone checking the results sheet, we played a game out of order) which meant that Terri and Luke had the final game. And this marvellous partnership eased to victory so we won 5-4.
The Serengeti are my former team and remain a marvellous group of people. Roy is the calmest and most gentlemanly of captains, an approach I have studied carefully before deciding not to adopt any of it. It was a lovely evening and an exceptionally close match, and I hope they do really well in the cup this year. I also missed my friend Emma, of course, as the Serengeti are never quite the same without her. They are noticeably quieter, for one thing.
Another great night and thanks to everyone, I had a most lovely time. But, my rule is that I go to the King’s Head afterwards if we win, so here are.
And Oscar was there too from the Lionhearts, which leads me neatly to my next post.
I have to admit that I’ve been quite remiss in keeping this blog updated with the performance of the Artichoke Hearts, so that means that my two loyal blog readers will now have the sheer excitement of three bar billiards posts in a row. I’d also note that as this game was a few days after the London Craft Beer Festival I was drinking non-alcohol beer and I now regret that decision, as I was bloody dismal. Scientific evidence linking these two facts remains limited, but I have nevertheless reached my conclusion and won’t be repeating that mistake again.
Assiduous readers will note that half the regulars weren’t there as they were at Latitude Festival playing in the mud. I did wonder at this stage if anything could possibly go wrong, but I knew that I had a new secret weapon, Ivan. He told me that he was a champion player and that he was one of the winners of the cup when it was held at the Rosary. Fortunately for Ivan, the pub closed more than a decade ago and every surviving piece of documentary evidence confirming his achievements appears to have vanished with it.
For the first time in the season, I actually brought my own cue along. It’s not a very good cue, but I thought that it might bring me good luck, along with 0% Guinness and Prawn McCoys. Bar billiards is largely about psychology, with a modest amount of skill occasionally intruding, so I was quietly confident that this carefully assembled collection of sporting equipment and savoury snacks would transform my performance.
Vaughan won his game, still unaware of the unfolding tragedy.
The half-time snacks arrive, many thanks to the wonderful staff at the Artichoke.
I don’t know what Ivan has to smile about, I agree with Vaughan and PJ here.
Here’s Judd Trump at the table. His performance turned out to be rather closer to Donald Trump, although I retained enough captaincy judgement not to mention this at the time.
Stupid bloody game.
The final score was 6-3 to the Cottagecore and they deserved that victory, which was their first of the season in the league. I don’t deny that they deserved some points, but I’d rather they didn’t get them against us, but there we go.
Spot the actual lipstick. There was precious little else worth spotting on our scorecard.
Anyway, I have now decided that my cue will not be attending any more matches. It was given a fair opportunity to justify its place in the team and produced what can only be described as a sub-optimal performance. Still, it is only a game, Cottagecore were excellent company and everyone had a lovely evening, which I’m told is the important part. I’m not entirely sure that Luke was surprised and delighted when he heard the result, but he is pragmatic and understands the value of not dwelling on defeat. This is particularly useful when captaining the Artichoke Hearts.
I should add that I was genuinely grateful to Ivan for stepping in and playing. However, I had made it perfectly clear beforehand that this did not mean I would have to be nice about him, and those were the contractual terms on which he agreed to join us. He has since become a regular member of the team and I’m very pleased about that, although naturally I have no intention of telling him to his face. Standards must be maintained.
There isn’t a lounge that I could use with Priority Pass at Lyon airport, but they did have a restaurant credit at Alpage where I could spend €23.
Sometimes the allocated budget is a little tight, but it wasn’t unreasonable here and the menu showed that I had a few different options.
It was a little busier when I entered, but it was never packed and there was a relaxed atmosphere. The seating was comfortable and the fans above reduced the temperature slightly, as it was too hot.
The bar area and I was served nearly immediately. I mentioned Priority Pass and the team member asked which bank my card was provided by and he was relieved when I said I had it directly with Priority Pass. He mentioned the number of Amex customers who tried to use it and it’s not valid for them. I spent about 5 cents less than the allocation on my food and drink so that was all rather convenient.
The chicken Caesar salad was perfectly reasonable and was a large portion and was at the appropriate chilled temperature. The beer was the La Blonde from Brasserie du Mont Blanc which was light and refreshing.
Just to prove the Amex point, a family of four came in and a customer tried to use his card, but was refused by the same team member who had served me. The same team member explained that it was not valid, leaving the English speaking customer looking distinctly unimpressed and rather confused. Several negative online reviews appear to have resulted from the same issue, although the terms of the offer do seem reasonably clear for anyone feeling adventurous enough to read them.
I like these restaurant credits as it gives a bit of variety to proceedings and it’s just as easy to get work done. There weren’t any power points available in the restaurant, but there are plenty in the airport terminal so this didn’t prove to be an obstacle. Anyway, I’d quite happily pop here again if I was back at the airport and it was a pleasant enough place to spend an hour or so.
After a suitably decadent breakfast, I needed to get to Lyon airport which is a location that I’ve never been to before. There is the Rhônexpress but it’s a ridiculously priced service at €16, so I went for a transportation solution that involved a metro journey and a bus that was about €4. The price of the Rhônexpres is sub-optimal, there’s no need for the airport and city to decide on a price point at that level.
It was a pleasant walk crossing the Rhône.
My journey started from Cordeliers on Line A of the metro system and the station and the line opened on 2 May 1978. They made life considerably easier for themselves by building the station beneath a public square. The engineers simply dug the whole thing up before putting it back together again afterwards, a classic cut-and-cover approach that would have looked very familiar to those constructing the early London Underground.
I liked the dividers between the tracks, it made the whole arrangement looked clean and modern.
The metro swept into the platform and wasn’t overly busy at this point.
The train was busy and too hot, but I was able to get a photo at the end of the line of the seating arrangement. It was at least and punctual though, so I had no complaints there.
My train arrived into Vaulx-en-Velin – La Soie, which was an extension to Line A and this bit opened in 2007 and note the trees at the metro station, all rather lovely.
Looking down from above the station.
It was something of a transport hub as this signage shows.
And what happens when a city tries to treat airport routes as a cash cow? It forces people onto other services which simply cannot cope.
I got the seat behind the driver but the bus soon filled and it was unable to pick passengers up at some stops. This is a sub-optimal arrangement for an airport bus which departs every thirty minutes as some passengers tend to leave slightly less time than I do to get to the airport. Missing a bus is one thing, but missing a flight because the bus couldn’t physically take any more passengers is rather another.
A sculpture near the airport.
And safely at Lyon–Saint Exupéry Airport, whose striking station building was designed by the Spanish architect Santiago Calatrava (1951-). It’s an impressive piece of modern architecture and a suitably dramatic gateway to the city. I’d love to tell you that arriving there finally brought some relief from the heat, but France remained entirely committed to proving otherwise.
As I only had a couple of hours in Lyon before I needed to get to the airport, I thought that I’d have a walk by the river and opt for a rather more decadent breakfast than I’d usually have. I had become a little bored of tropical Fanta and thought I’d go for something that appeared to be a little more healthy.
It was a little busier than this photo indicates and the surroundings were clean, comfortable and all very on-trend. I was also pleased to discover a power socket, as my phone battery had plummeted to 94% since leaving the hotel and I like to remain prepared for any technological emergency, no matter how imaginary. There was a friendly welcome from the two team members and although they didn’t have an English menu, the server said that she could translate it for me. As I like to be prepared, I had already studied the menu in advance.
I went for the waffles with chicken, accompanied by a freshly squeezed orange juice and an espresso. I think it’s fair to say that the meal was served with some focus on the presentation, but the chicken was also tender, the waffles were light rather than stodgy and the salad was fresh. I usually find waffles quite dull and plain, but this certainly livened the arrangement up.
I was pleased that the meal was served quickly as I didn’t have long to sit in the cafe as I had to walk to the nearest subway to ensure that I got to the airport in time. By “in time”, I mean within four hours of the flight departing. I very much enjoyed this leisurely breakfast and I can see why the venue is so well reviewed online. An effort has been made to keep the food not only Instagrammable, but actually tasting decent as well.
Anyway, this felt like a relaxed French cafe breakfast and so a suitable final meal for the trip. Well, other than the airport food, but that’s a story for another post.
Following a slightly wet walk after my long rail journey, I arrived just before 23:00 at this Accor hotel in Lyon. As an aside, this part of the city expanded rapidly in the nineteenth century due to the advent of the railway, so there were numerous accommodation options around here. More importantly, there was a particularly friendly welcome from the receptionist, it’s always positive to arrive somewhere slightly damp and for them to pretend to look pleased to see me.
Arriving at this time meant that the bar was still open and I was able to get my welcome drink which was the always reliable Grimbergen Blonde beer.
I arrived shortly after England had been knocked out of the World Cup. That might have explained the receptionist’s friendliness, perhaps he assumed I was in need of emotional support. Fortunately, I’d already reached the acceptance stage of grief by then.
The room was the old style Ibis design, but I was quite content with that. The hotel was one of the cheapest Accor options in the city, which is primarily why I had chosen it. It was also near the railway station and I had correctly judged that there was a reasonable chance that the train might be late and I didn’t want a nighttime trek across a new city.
The view from my room the following morning. It was, somewhat astonishingly, still too hot. France had remained committed to this policy throughout my visit other than when I was on a train when the temperature collapsed and it poured with rain.
The online reviews for the hotel are rather mixed, with complaints about the air conditioning, room size and the general lack of luxury. Personally, I’m perfectly happy to trade room size for a lower price, so that never really concerned me. Heat in hotel rooms is something I complain about with impressive regularity, but on this occasion the air conditioning worked perfectly well and cooled the room to a temperature that didn’t provoke a lengthy blog post about it.
I wasn’t in the hotel for long enough to offer a comprehensive review, but it quietly did everything I needed it to do. The room was clean, there were no noise disturbances either inside or outside the hotel, and every member of staff I encountered was friendly and helpful. For an inexpensive overnight stay near to the centre I thought that it was all rather lovely.
As my riveting blog is getting behind once again, I feel the need to speed through a few posts. This is Le Mans railway station and I needed to get to Lyon for my flight the following day, and as this was France I confidently assumed the railway would provide a calm and civilised end to the trip.
The railway station is from the late nineteenth century, but this extension has been added to the front to give more space.
It was too hot, which I might have mentioned, so I had my tropical Fanta to get me by.
I didn’t understand this at first, I just noticed that on the left it said that my train was delayed by an hour and it had doubled the number of trains going to Lyon. I went to find a staff member and he helpfully explained that the train was delayed by an hour and that it would be departing from Platform 2 but that I could safely leave the station and return a bit later. The stress levels of that were beyond me, so I took my increasingly warm Fanta to another platform to have a sit down.
And then for a few minutes, my train entirely disappeared from the boards. I considered this to be sub-optimal.
Although I had been told that the train was departing from Platform 2, this was the first time that it appeared on the board. I decided that I’d better go to the platform to see what was happening.
And the train to Lyon was at Platform 2, so I was most confused.
It was evident that something strange was happening as there were plenty of passengers who were on the train, but others were milling about. I decided that I needed to find an adult and I located the train guard. The guard explained, in perfect English and with admirable calmness, that only half my train had arrived. The other half was still somewhere in France and would be along in about ninety minutes, which was longer than the boards said, but he said it would definitely be arriving. He mentioned my seat was in the half that hadn’t arrived, so I went to sit in the heat with my Fanta to wait.
To my great annoyance, after days of it being too hot and needing to rain, it then started to pour down with rain. So several of us decided to find a dry spot on some steps.
A little over ninety minutes late, the other half of the train came sweeping into view.
It’s fair to say that I was pleased to see this train. It meant that I would be getting to my hotel without any further issues.
There’s my carriage and the double decker train looked really rather classy.
I was talking to the guard on this part of the train and she checked my ticket and was explaining where to go when a dog jumped up at us. The dog looked bloody vicious, but it was muzzled. The guard looked genuinely furious that a passenger decided it was appropriate to bring such a dog on the train and at this point the dog was out of control, barking and frightening other passengers.
My seat was a window seat and there was a laptop sitting on the aisle seat and I did wonder whether the dog owner would be seated there. I would have obviously gone to the guard to ask to be moved, but it transpired a passenger sitting nearby had just randomly left it there.
It soon became evident that the train staff had absolutely no intention of that dog being allowed back onto their train. Transport police, guards and others came to protect the public and there were some cheers when it was evident that the passenger wasn’t being allowed back on. I’m pleased to say that this was last bit of drama of the trip.
There’s a lot wrong with SNCF and the prices for rail travel really didn’t seem to be cheaper than the UK. But, the train was clean, there were power outlets, there was plenty of space for my laptop and it was a comfortable environment.
The train was only at around 65% occupancy and I didn’t have anyone next to me during the journey. The service was fast, efficient and peaceful. One thing I’d never really appreciated before is just how empty much of France is. There were long stretches where the only signs of civilisation were the occasional road, farmhouse or distant village. It’s a reminder of just how densely populated much of England really is.
Safely into Lyon with my now empty bottle of Fanta.
And there was torrential rain.
I was entitled to 25% Delay Repay, which is rather less generous than the UK system. The claim form took me about forty-five minutes to complete, which struck me as an impressively inefficient way of compensating passengers for having already lost time. Still, if it eventually appears in my bank account, I’ll forgive them. Eventually. But, I was pleased to get to Lyon in time as the alternative would have been an overnight Flix Bus and that would have displeased me.
