Stansted: TimeTable - April 2006
Just arrived “last minute” in the airport after a hectic sojourn. I have about an hour to go before the flight. I was in London for a drop in and drop out two day clinical research meeting in High Holbein.
For my stay see (London: Breakfast Tea - April 2006 under 'Locations').
I’ll backtrack some what.
I left the city, the time 14:00 hours [Ed: 5.0 hrs to check in], plenty of time so I thought, to get to Liverpool St. station, browse W. H. Smiths and take the direct train to Stansted Airport. It took me yesterday about 45 minutes with the express from Stansted to Liverpool St. and then the central line to Holbein. So with this in mind I took my time.
The train left on timetable (a mild surprise). I was again mildly surprised when the train stopped at Broxbourne as this was a non stop to the airport, and a little more than mildly surprised when a nonchalant voice asked everyone to leave the train as the overhead lines where down..
And that was that. No indication of how we were to carry on. Although panic broke out by the majority of my fellow travellers, I closed my ears to the raised voices. I still had plenty of time [Ed: 4.5 hrs to check in]. We all tumbled out onto the platform and as another train was on the opposite side of the platform, automatically tumbled into it. If it hadn’t been there I suspect with the mass momentum we had, most of us would have landed on the rails.
Anyway it was, to my continuing surprise, the ‘correct’ train going in the right direction. And off we went direction Hereford “on track” again so to speak. Well my mild surprise ended abruptly when the train reached the terminus at Hereford West and the tumbling started to repeated itself [Ed: 4.0 hrs to check in]. I thought our train was the avant-garde but the platform was packed with the results of earlier ‘tumblings’ out at Broxbourne. As we were waiting, there followed new waves of trains and corresponding ‘fallouts’.
I have no idea why, but the travellers (sheep) were not really interested in leaving the station (pen), the gates were open and the road outside almost empty! It must have been some sort of mass psychological block; “If we leave the station it means there will not come a train in shining white armour to carry us away from this schmazel”. Anyway it was interesting to watch while it lasted. After a few words (telegram style again) with a cornered station master we were informed that the only way to the airport was by bus – brilliant!
[Ed: That was the first and last time any BR staff showed themselves that day.]
I suspect they blended into the woodwork in a fit of self-preservation.
[Ed: Could be.]
After about an hour with no sign of transport, the first taxis started to circle like sharks. They must have got wind of the mass gathering and our predicament [Ed: 3.0 hrs to check in]. There was a lot of bickering and shoving, a right free4all to fill the taxis over the allowed head count and from what I could hear the drivers were asking exorbitant prices for the last leg in a mobile sardine tin. Its interesting how ones private space is of low priority when it comes to trying to catch a flight.
I just stood around again observing [Ed: 2.5 hrs to check in]. I made sure I stayed at the front of the horde so that I could, with my one light case, manoeuvre to the first bus when it appeared on the horizon. You have to keep moving; otherwise you end up getting pressed up against a wall or jammed in a door way with no escape before nightfall. Well after a few deep breathing exercises readying myself for the next round of shoving and tumbling, the first bus appeared [Ed: 2.25 hrs to check in] and a human tsunami gathered momentum in the buses direction even while it was still moving towards the station!
I quickly worked out an optimal trajectory on my PDA [Ed: the only portable computer at the time] so as to arrive at the open door as it came to a stop. I was only three feet out! I followed etiquette and allowed a few in before me, then helped someone with their case and fell in after him, took the first place at the front by the window and with a sigh of relief immediately switch off all visual contact with any potential seat takers. I was in and in no way was I going to budge!
I sat there and just listened. The only thing I was taking in was the irate mobile calls in exotic European languages explaining to the other end that I/we will be x hours/day later than planned. Now as languages go, not my strong point. I still, due to the situation, could read faces and upper limb gyrations and the fluctuation in timbre gave me a pretty idea of what was being passed on.
The girl next to me called Italy..
[Ed: How do you know her name - did you ask her?]
No! Her name was not ‘Italy’, she was calling Italy!
Anyway I never got the chance to ask her name. She was on the phone at least 4 times. I suspect making changes to her itinerary. It’s amazing what international chain reactions are set into action due to a blocked line!
The bus journey took ages. [Ed: 1.25 hrs to check in]. We must have toured all B and a good selection of C roads in Hertfordshire (we crossed the motorway at least three times if a recollect) before ending up at the airport.
So back up to date.
Now off to buy a few magazines and salt and vinegar crisps. I hear that participation in slowly shovelling snake like lines and shoe removal are part of the curriculum at this airport, so I better be off..
For my stay see (London: Breakfast Tea - April 2006 under 'Locations').
I’ll backtrack some what.
I left the city, the time 14:00 hours [Ed: 5.0 hrs to check in], plenty of time so I thought, to get to Liverpool St. station, browse W. H. Smiths and take the direct train to Stansted Airport. It took me yesterday about 45 minutes with the express from Stansted to Liverpool St. and then the central line to Holbein. So with this in mind I took my time.
The train left on timetable (a mild surprise). I was again mildly surprised when the train stopped at Broxbourne as this was a non stop to the airport, and a little more than mildly surprised when a nonchalant voice asked everyone to leave the train as the overhead lines where down..
And that was that. No indication of how we were to carry on. Although panic broke out by the majority of my fellow travellers, I closed my ears to the raised voices. I still had plenty of time [Ed: 4.5 hrs to check in]. We all tumbled out onto the platform and as another train was on the opposite side of the platform, automatically tumbled into it. If it hadn’t been there I suspect with the mass momentum we had, most of us would have landed on the rails.Anyway it was, to my continuing surprise, the ‘correct’ train going in the right direction. And off we went direction Hereford “on track” again so to speak. Well my mild surprise ended abruptly when the train reached the terminus at Hereford West and the tumbling started to repeated itself [Ed: 4.0 hrs to check in]. I thought our train was the avant-garde but the platform was packed with the results of earlier ‘tumblings’ out at Broxbourne. As we were waiting, there followed new waves of trains and corresponding ‘fallouts’.
I have no idea why, but the travellers (sheep) were not really interested in leaving the station (pen), the gates were open and the road outside almost empty! It must have been some sort of mass psychological block; “If we leave the station it means there will not come a train in shining white armour to carry us away from this schmazel”. Anyway it was interesting to watch while it lasted. After a few words (telegram style again) with a cornered station master we were informed that the only way to the airport was by bus – brilliant!
[Ed: That was the first and last time any BR staff showed themselves that day.]
I suspect they blended into the woodwork in a fit of self-preservation.
[Ed: Could be.]
After about an hour with no sign of transport, the first taxis started to circle like sharks. They must have got wind of the mass gathering and our predicament [Ed: 3.0 hrs to check in]. There was a lot of bickering and shoving, a right free4all to fill the taxis over the allowed head count and from what I could hear the drivers were asking exorbitant prices for the last leg in a mobile sardine tin. Its interesting how ones private space is of low priority when it comes to trying to catch a flight.
I just stood around again observing [Ed: 2.5 hrs to check in]. I made sure I stayed at the front of the horde so that I could, with my one light case, manoeuvre to the first bus when it appeared on the horizon. You have to keep moving; otherwise you end up getting pressed up against a wall or jammed in a door way with no escape before nightfall. Well after a few deep breathing exercises readying myself for the next round of shoving and tumbling, the first bus appeared [Ed: 2.25 hrs to check in] and a human tsunami gathered momentum in the buses direction even while it was still moving towards the station!
I quickly worked out an optimal trajectory on my PDA [Ed: the only portable computer at the time] so as to arrive at the open door as it came to a stop. I was only three feet out! I followed etiquette and allowed a few in before me, then helped someone with their case and fell in after him, took the first place at the front by the window and with a sigh of relief immediately switch off all visual contact with any potential seat takers. I was in and in no way was I going to budge!I sat there and just listened. The only thing I was taking in was the irate mobile calls in exotic European languages explaining to the other end that I/we will be x hours/day later than planned. Now as languages go, not my strong point. I still, due to the situation, could read faces and upper limb gyrations and the fluctuation in timbre gave me a pretty idea of what was being passed on.
The girl next to me called Italy..
[Ed: How do you know her name - did you ask her?]
No! Her name was not ‘Italy’, she was calling Italy!
Anyway I never got the chance to ask her name. She was on the phone at least 4 times. I suspect making changes to her itinerary. It’s amazing what international chain reactions are set into action due to a blocked line!
The bus journey took ages. [Ed: 1.25 hrs to check in]. We must have toured all B and a good selection of C roads in Hertfordshire (we crossed the motorway at least three times if a recollect) before ending up at the airport.
So back up to date.
Now off to buy a few magazines and salt and vinegar crisps. I hear that participation in slowly shovelling snake like lines and shoe removal are part of the curriculum at this airport, so I better be off..
Leave a Comment