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Mar. 16th, 2008 04:02 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
eiffel_71
Up at 2.30 am to wash, shave and have breakfast before the Australian Grand Prix. An eventful curtain-raiser to the new season - some of the drivers seem to be having trouble adapting to the absence of traction control, and millions watching on TV were treated to David Coulthard threatening to "kick three colours of shit out of the little bastard [Felipe Massa]" if he didn't apologise for their crash that put him out of the race. As a Red Bull fan I was sorry to see him go out, but from the replays it did look like Massa wasn't to blame. Anyway, what else can I say except GO LEWIS!!
Then it was over to Portsmouth to catch the 7.50 am coach to Oxford where the Hawk Ladies were due to play. Unsurprisingly, I nodded off for the first hour or so of the journey, but the driving rain that persisted all through the ride was a worry. Sure enough, at 9.50, with the coach already past Reading and heading for Oxford, Lisa texted to say the game was off.
Oxford at 10.25 am on a Sunday, in the rain, with nothing to do, is not a joyous place. At the bus station I took a quick look at the coach timetable in the National Express office, but the only coach that might have been of use to me didn't leave till 12.55 and that would only get me as far as Southampton. I'd had the foresight to bring my Network Railcard just in case; what didn't help was that all the signs for the railway station pointed in directions that would send you walking smack into the wall of a building. Despite them - and one sign that was just plain pointing the wrong way - I found the train station with half an hour to spare before the next fast Reading train at 11.15. Time to sit down with the Sports Mail and a vanilla milk steamer from AMT Espresso (I'd asked for a vanillatte at Millie's Cookies but they were out of whipped cream).
The 11.15 train actually went on to Winchester. It occurred to me that this might mean a quicker way home, so once on board I phoned National Rail Enquiries to ask when it would arrive there, and for the times of trains on from Winchester to Fareham. It would have meant a half-hour wait at E*******h station before arriving at Fareham at 1.19. I decided the Reading/Guildford/Portsmouth route would likely be quicker, but made a fatal mistake. I didn't check the times for that route.
I had a 25 minute wait at Reading for a Guildford train - and all trains from Reading to Guildford on Sundays are stopping services. Then I arrived at Guildford to learn buses were replacing trains between there and Haslemere today. At least there was a fast bus ready waiting outside the station.
Reached Haslemere at 1.20. By now, not having eaten since my 3 am breakfast, I was absolutely Hank Marvin. But no hope of any nosh for another hour - there were just 6 minutes before the Portsmouth train left.
Once we pulled into Portsmouth & Southsea station I headed like a laser-guided missile straight for Ken's Kebabs. A decent Chicken Doner and a can of Red Bull, but they'd sold out of olives (typical) so had to settle for onion rings.
Then it was over to Portsmouth to catch the 7.50 am coach to Oxford where the Hawk Ladies were due to play. Unsurprisingly, I nodded off for the first hour or so of the journey, but the driving rain that persisted all through the ride was a worry. Sure enough, at 9.50, with the coach already past Reading and heading for Oxford, Lisa texted to say the game was off.
Oxford at 10.25 am on a Sunday, in the rain, with nothing to do, is not a joyous place. At the bus station I took a quick look at the coach timetable in the National Express office, but the only coach that might have been of use to me didn't leave till 12.55 and that would only get me as far as Southampton. I'd had the foresight to bring my Network Railcard just in case; what didn't help was that all the signs for the railway station pointed in directions that would send you walking smack into the wall of a building. Despite them - and one sign that was just plain pointing the wrong way - I found the train station with half an hour to spare before the next fast Reading train at 11.15. Time to sit down with the Sports Mail and a vanilla milk steamer from AMT Espresso (I'd asked for a vanillatte at Millie's Cookies but they were out of whipped cream).
The 11.15 train actually went on to Winchester. It occurred to me that this might mean a quicker way home, so once on board I phoned National Rail Enquiries to ask when it would arrive there, and for the times of trains on from Winchester to Fareham. It would have meant a half-hour wait at E*******h station before arriving at Fareham at 1.19. I decided the Reading/Guildford/Portsmouth route would likely be quicker, but made a fatal mistake. I didn't check the times for that route.
I had a 25 minute wait at Reading for a Guildford train - and all trains from Reading to Guildford on Sundays are stopping services. Then I arrived at Guildford to learn buses were replacing trains between there and Haslemere today. At least there was a fast bus ready waiting outside the station.
Reached Haslemere at 1.20. By now, not having eaten since my 3 am breakfast, I was absolutely Hank Marvin. But no hope of any nosh for another hour - there were just 6 minutes before the Portsmouth train left.
Once we pulled into Portsmouth & Southsea station I headed like a laser-guided missile straight for Ken's Kebabs. A decent Chicken Doner and a can of Red Bull, but they'd sold out of olives (typical) so had to settle for onion rings.
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no subject
Date: 2008-03-16 06:16 pm (UTC)LOL...DC's a star but yeah, it wasn't Massa's fault. I'm sure given a bit of time to cool down and he'll realise it as well *grin*
Not a great start for your boys...I imagine you'll have more success with your other team (BMW wasn't it?!)
Lie in next Sunday ;)
no subject
Date: 2008-03-16 07:13 pm (UTC)Trains on Sundays are unutterably shite. Which, when you're a travelling fan of a sport played on Sundays, is une peine dans la derrière. All the more incentive to pass my test, I guess - though even then I have to hope the bank will lend me the dosh to buy some second-hand wheels...