A small piece of me is lamenting not having joined the QM2 2024 World Voyage to Australia, out via Tenerife, Walvis Bay, South Africa and (with luck) back via Asia the Red Sea and Suez Canal.  I say “with luck”  because, as I perceive in the News, tensions in the Red Sea are effectively blocking vital global trade routes, and it’s not, right now, the best place for passenger ships. This situation should all be cleared up by April as QM2 ventures westbound to Southampton. 

29/1/24

This time last year (and the year before that), I was on board Cunard’s Queen Mary 2 fleeing the discomforts of a harsh North Derbyshire winter. Such continued extravagance could well lead me to bankruptcy. Therefore, this year, I shall be at home but still venturing onto the maiden voyage of M.V. Queen Anne, and later, to my great nephew’s wedding not far from the U.S. capital. My plan then is to attend the Grant Park Music Festival in Chicago, for a few nights before returning home, a much curtailed plan from previous itineraries. There also has to be a celebratory nod to my 75th birthday, which is creeping up fast.

Two Fridays ago, (19/1/24) I visited my niece in Lancaster, the niece whose son ties the knot near Washington D.C. in the summer. This is where the title of this blog comes in. In a previous life (i.e., 1973 – 2017), I was employed as traincrew at Buxton Traction Maintenance Depot, and from 1994 at Buxton Station, qualifying as Driver in 1979, to work freight and passenger services in the geographical area or routes covered by that Depot. From March 1994, radical reorganisation of the industry had me employed initially between Buxton and Manchester Oxford Road, as well as very occasionally to Manchester Victoria, just on passenger services. Diversion to the latter made a welcome change from what had become a tedious routine of two or three round trips, just over an hour each way, stopping at all stations. With eventual privatisation, Blackpool, via all routes made for a much more varied days’ work, which I would swap for as much as I was able to. Medical issues prompted retirement (at 68!), but after 43 years since starting my career in September 1973, perhaps it was time to put my uniform and other non returnable items into my collection! My retirement party filled the public area of Buxton’s Pavilion Gardens. That took place in December 2017, having retired on July 31st. The previous February, because of continuing back problems, I had been declared “permanently medically restricted” (P.M.R.). All of a sudden, my “safety-critical” duties came to an abrupt end. I would be offered alternative employment at the same rate, but a heart attack in April put paid to stretching out my railway career any further – and a good job too!

Fast forward to two Fridays ago. I drove myself to my one-time place of employment, where some of my former colleagues still remain. I continue to enjoy retirement even if the first almost seven years have, as they say, flown by. As I chose my seat on the type of train I used to drive almost daily, memories came flooding back. But there have been many notable changes; even the blue white and purple livery of the commuter trains introduced by Northern Rail in 2004 has been changed to a predominantly white livery, which I imagine will appear dirty prematurely. The refurbished interior makes the trains appear brand new. Electronic information screens in each carriage, along with prerecorded announcements in a suitably north of England dialect, ensure customers (passengers) will not miss their stop. The Buxton line remains one of the few branch lines to still be double tracked. To think, this route was slated for closure in the Beeching Report of 1963. The train left on time and remained so until arrival at Manchester Piccadilly.

During my final days working trains to Blackpool, preparations were well I hand for eventual electrification with infrastructure sprouting up like triffids in a horror movie. Wow! What an impressive improvement. We hurtled to Bolton at a speed, which ten years earlier would have gotten me the sack! Once familiar sights and landmarks flashed by as if in a strange dream. When I arrived at Preston to change trains for Lancaster, it felt as if I had been teleported there, and on platform 5, a train heading north was ready to whisk me the final twenty minutes or so to Lancaster, arriving at the far opposite side of the station which I assume must now be bi – directional. The “memory lane bit” finished at Preston ‘though, very many years previously, I did end up at Carlisle as secondman (train driver’s assistant) ⁰on a freight train – something I don’t think was supposed to happen!

I enjoyed the catch-up with my niece at the fabulous Midland Hotel in Morecambe in a dining area where floor to ceiling windows afford fabulous views of Morecambe Bay, the confluence of four major estuaries, including the Lune, the Kent and the Leven.

Really, I should have taken more pictures to illustrate this blog. Coming back, darkness outside obliterated any memories except possibly of long breaks at Manchester Piccadilly, where two Fridays ago, I had an hour to wait for the train to Buxton. Carluccio’s, an Italian eatery, on the upper level at Manchester Piccadilly Station was where, during gainful employment, during long breaks, I would enjoy a decent pasta dish or salad at a time when food could be enjoyed up to around 11 pm. Not so today. Carluccio’s is still there with its illuminated sign missing a bulb or two. The one-time plenteous staff were down to one or two clearing up and preparing for the next day. Pret – a – Manger was still open for business, where I chilled out with a sandwich and coffee.

The final train ride to Buxton went quickly despite its being dark and thus my being unable to see outside.

Strangely, I don’t (yet) lament, this year, not heading for sunshine on the high seas. I have much to do at home in an attempt to refurbish rooms that were last decorated over 30 years ago. This means much moving of heavy furniture and removal of “things” to accommodate the ceiling plasterer. When all this is done, I hope to be “off like a shot!”

Many thanks for reading, David, in the very smart bar of the Crescent Hotel, where morning coffee morphed into lunch! 15.06 hrs.