The not disagreeable entrance to the coach station, which is more a lengthy piece of landscaped road than a conventional station but it all looks rather nicely done. And let’s be ridiculous, not everywhere can be as lovely as North Walsham’s International Bus Interchange.
Swindon glistening in the sun.
I got there half an hour early in case I couldn’t find the stop, but the coach was already parked up. A woman pushed past me in the queue and I swore at her in my mind, annoyed if she took the emergency exit row seat. I like to think of myself as a patient and generous person (well, sort of), but there are limits, and those limits are legroom related.
She didn’t take it, so diplomatic relations were restored.
The coach wasn’t overly burdened with passengers, there were about fifteen of us.
The journey was without incident, the driver made some announcements and a woman played her phone loudly because seemingly no form of public transport is complete without someone deciding that everyone else needs to experience their media choices.
And safely into London Victoria coach station in all its greyness.
The rail fares from Swindon into London were ridiculously high, so I was pleased that this coach was rather more affordable at around £12. Everything went to schedule, the coach was clean, the seats were comfortable, the temperature met my expectations and I had plenty of space in my emergency exit row seat, so all to the good. But this was the third National Express journey I had taken in a weekend and the passenger numbers seemed lower than would even make the journey viable.