Sheffield to the Embankment

Introduction

Arrived at Sheffield Midland Station on time to find that someone had stolen the electrical signal cables at Clay Cross and all trains were cancelled. My first thought was perhaps they wouldn’t have had to if Thatcher hadn’t closed the mines and destroyed the only source of work in the area.

So we started our 15,000 mile journey to Australia by catching the train to Cleethorpes and changing at Doncaster. To make things even worse the train was infected by a group of foul mouth West Bromwich supporters who constantly reminded me why I am leaving this cultureless country. The train was full and no one was prepared to say anything to them for fear of being abused or worse. God bless Thatcher and Blair for lining their pockets at the expense of education and transport. Our journey of a lifetime couldn’t have had a poorer start.

We were told to catch any London-bound train by porters at Sheffield. When we arrived at Doncaster chaos ensued, we were shunted from one platform to another as train after train failed to materialize. Eventually, we bordered the 14.35 to Kings Cross just to be told via the train intercom to make our way back onto the platform. When we made our way back an irate porter told everyone (literally hundreds of people) to get back on the train and ignore any further instructions. Phew! On the bright side of things we bonded with a nice couple. Anne even wished they were coming with us but sadly they were not. We had an interesting conversation as I ordered food. While waiting for my order of cappuccino, a can of Stella and cheese ham and egg and Red Leicester toasties we attempted to calculate the cost using, signs, body language and facial expressions. His estimate of 26 pounds was slightly more expensive than my meager 11 pounds. A couple minutes later I was relieved to pay £12. 10. Anne, looking over my shoulder, has just chastised me for writing such content, being convinced, no one will be interested in such trivia.

Found our way to Chris and Jo’s in Ilford, had a lovely meal before making our way to The Ilford Spoon and the then to what turned out to be the highlight of the first day the Ilford Catholic Club for a couple of pints of Guiness, the latest community gossip and finally the all-important raffle which fortunately we did not win: a joint of meat for Sunday dinner.

Finally went to bed about 12.45 am well inebriated, tired and very, very happy.