It’s not entirely optimal to approach a railway station and see that it’s a bit shut and there are people milling about outside.
It either meant that someone famous was there or the bloody railway network had broken again.
It soon became apparent that this was another Network Rail debacle.
But, having noted that, I like a bit of drama in my life. I am not seeking genuine peril, civil disorder or an unscheduled night on a station concourse. Just a little deviation from the norm, that sort of thing.
The difficulty was that I did actually want to get to Swindon, which is perhaps not a sentence people write very often. Indeed, most people spend their lives trying to avoid needing to get to Swindon, and yet here I was, standing outside a closed railway station, regarding it as a cherished destination.
At least I could see the entrance now, it’s a bit like seeing a lifeboat on a slightly sinking ship.
The police told people not to push, although by trying to hear what they were saying they pushed forward. Fortunately, I am sufficiently well built that it is quite hard to push me very far. I have many flaws, but being easily displaced in a railway related crowd is apparently not one of them.
There was more vibrancy to the arrangement at this stage. By vibrant I mean a combination of confusion, annoyance and the need for signage.
So near and so far from entering….
I was let through soon after this and was rather pleased as I did need to get to Swindon at some point as it was getting late and there was no alternative way of getting there as taxis were over £125 and there weren’t any buses. Praise to the British Transport Police and the station staff who were doing their best to manage the crowds and entry onto the platforms with some rather difficult circumstances.