I accept that these blog posts are entirely out of order. I particularly mention in the chronology sense with that statement I’d better hasten to add. I’m going to post what I can today and then move on to my current trip and I am unanimous in that… This is the sort of firm editorial control my two loyal blog readers have come to expect, assuming they are still trying to work out why I was apparently in three places at once.
Anyway, this is Newport railway station which I think is quite an ugly building, but each to their own as I’m sure that some thought that it was a bold modern transport experiment.
The station opened as Newport High Street in June 1850 and is on the mainline between Bristol and Cardiff.
This was my first train, the GWR service from Newport to Bristol Parkway.
I was pre-annoyed as it required me to have a seat reservation and, as I’ve mentioned before, I don’t like them. Invariably someone will be sitting in the seat or there’s some other inconvenience, so I’d rather sit where I want. Anyway, I boarded the train, which was going to London, and just sat where it said there was no reservation. It transpired that the train’s reservation system was down so it didn’t matter anyway and this no doubt annoyed the people who did want to have a reserved seat, which is one of the pleasingly democratic qualities of British rail travel, namely that eventually everyone gets disappointed.
Crossing the River Usk at Newport.
Safely at Bristol Parkway. I went off to look at an old church at this point, I’ll come back to that another time. Although this is how the blog chronology collapses, one church and one railway platform at a time.
Back at Bristol Parkway, this station opened in 1972, although it was heavily modernised in 2001.
Many people come to look at this plaque noting the unveiling of the new platform by Chris Grayling, then the Transport Secretary and now in the Lords, in April 2018.
I found a Tesco when church hunting so that was lunch sorted. Note all that fruit. I mention this because it gives the whole arrangement a faintly healthy glow, even if the broader dietary context of my travels may not withstand close academic scrutiny.
The GWR train to Bath Spa turned up six minutes later and I wondered whether Delay Repay would kick in, but they got the train back on track so to speak.
This train wasn’t overly busy and GWR hadn’t burdened themselves by cleaning it.
Playing music loudly from his phone and feet wiped on the seats numerous times. The train guard didn’t say anything, although I hardly blame the staff as they don’t want the risk of being attacked. I limited myself to silent disapproval, at which I am becoming increasingly professional.
And safely into Bath Spa railway station, although it was rather harder to leave it later in the day.