Bought online for my Bookcrossing Oxford Convention 2015 NSS partner.

For my NSS at the Oxford Convention 2015

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I think some of the books have multiplied in my suitcase 📚.
I have made four interrail trips to the UK between 1984 and 1991, but I don't know if they can be counted as 'historical' yet. Great they were anyhow, so I'm very much looking forward to reading this book. Poodlesister had put together this great big parcel for me, not just books, but tea, cards, bags, soap... Everything one might need on a journey (and off). THANK YOU!

It's because of books like this a young girl like me had to get reading glasses (specs) - the font is too small. I can see what it says, but it is straining to read.
I have done a bit of travelling with British Rail when most of the trains weren't those fast and modern IC (Intercity) trains. The mere carriages were like out of Agatha Christie's books; two and two seats facing each other and there was a door in between every two seats so you stepped in right where you were going to sit. To open the door from the inside you had to push down the window and turn the handle from the outside - perhaps to avoid accidents. On top of each pair of seats there was an iron construction with a net for your luggage. If you were standing it was a bit over your waistline, so that lifting a heavy rucksack there wasn't such an ordeal, although smaller bags fitted better into those nets.
Those trains were always late. I don't know if the first trains in the morning left on time, but after that, if they had a connecting train somewhere, that connection stood and waited for you. Sometimes even two hours. I was interrailing and my ticket was valid for a month, so I didn't mind. On the contrary, I knew that I would reach my destination even if my train was late and according to the timetable I would have lost the only connecting train there was for that day. The connecting train was always there, waiting. But how people who needed to be somewhere at a certain time, managed, I do not know.
I'm only in chapter one, but the writer has not yet managed to create the magical atmosphere old trains had.

Here it was confirmed that Tavistock was also cut off as a useless station. My first fifteen or so summers were spent in a summer cottage where we travelled by train as our family didn't have a car. As long as I can remember my train read was The Hound of the Baskervilles, so I was certain sure there would be a train to Tavistock as Dr Watson had taken it when going to Baskerville Hall. I spent the two best summers of my life in a vet's family in Dartmoor (1981-82) and my brother was interrailing with his girlfriend at that time and they decided to come and see me. My brother, a great friend of Sherlock, also remembered Tavistock station and was very annoyed when it didn't exist and they had to come the last bit by bus. At least Tavistock station has once been, but Baskerville Hall does not exist in Dartmoor at all. I found it by accident when looking for accommodation near Hay-On-Wye, Wales. Baskerville Hall sits outside Hay and is nowadays a hotel. Of course I had to stay there and the hall with its two staircases was just as described in the book, as was the gate where poor Mr Baskerville met his fate. Doyle had been a guest there and asked the owners if he could use their house in his next novel. They agreed on one condition - Doyle was not to reveal the true location of their house. Wise decision as Dartmoor has been turned completely over by Sherlockian fans in their quest for Baskerville Hall.
I'm not reading this at home, so I don't have my map here, but I want to check out those lines and towns which were stricken over from the railroad map. Sounds crazy.
Funny that there was a different gauge of tracks in St Ives. The Soviets had a different gauge as well, so trains had to be changed on the border, but I think it has been changed by now.
Chapter two is where the writer starts to warm up to the subject. He makes Britain sound just as gory and primitive as China and Siberia when he told that hundreds of men died in those six and a half years it took to build the tract from Carlisle to Settle (1869-1875). Again I'd love to see my map as I'm going to spend some time in York in three weeks time and if this route is anywhere near there, I'd love to hop on that train and see the Appleby Station, although Anne Ridley might not be there anymore. But the route sounded fascinating even without this ex-policewoman turned into a station supervisor.

Edit: Checked the Google map, too far from York 😕.

Isle of Wight! I think it was year 2004 when I spent a few days there. Lovely little island and I have to confess that I have no recollection of it having a railway...😕 I travelled around by bus. It had a very good sh-bookshop with a wide selection of doggy books. It had road signs I've never seen elsewhere (a warning triangle saying "Squirrels" and after a few hundred meters another saying "Red squirrels!" - why the exclamation mark, is the red variety perhaps angrier, more dangerous?) and a yellow ladder car with the text "Bat hospital 24/7" written on its side. And it had the charming Osborne House and the Bathing machine which I fell in love with. If I ever return, I will take the train (ex-tube carriage).
Edit: But why wasn't I told that I could spend the night with nine monks at the monastery, if I only kept quiet during meals?

On my first interrail trip we ventured to the Lake District. A man sitting opposite to us asked where we were from and wanted to know if we knew by whom is the district famous for. "William Wordsworth! " he almost shouted and stood up. He sat down and said: "And when we say 'William Wordsworth' we always stand up" and he stood up again. "You do know William Wordsworth?" [Stood up again]. I said I've heard the name but never read anything by him, which caused some tut-tutting. We were approaching a station and the man forbid us to look out as this was the eyesore of British Rail, Kendal station. Of course we looked out and indeed, a tree was growing out of the station building, which had seen better days.

Edit: I guess my journeys are historical already, because even at remote stations they always had somebody who sold tickets and a guard who checked your ticket before you entered the platform area - a strange system, I thought, because every train had a conductor as well. This book tells that lot of the small stations have no personnel nowadays.

This privatisation of the railways sounds very confusing and I'm glad I did my interrailing before 1994 as I'm sure my ticket would not have been valid on all private lines - if on any of them. Isn't there a problem with the less-travelled routes - what private company wants to buy them? So there could be a danger of several companies serving the most popular routes and none the remote ones. And is there a routine check done by an independent body to make sure all trains of these different companies are safe to run - judging by this book they have a very colourful backround and some of them are put together from parts of old trains.
How can restoring an old locomotive take two tycoons to bankruptcy and yet be costly to those who took over? There is something I'm missing here. And why is a locomotive called Oliver Cromwell a 'she'?
I have also travelled to Shrewsbury. I am usually lucky with weather when I'm in Britain, but that evening it rained heavily, when I walked towards the youth hostel along the empty streets. I never made a booking beforehand as they could always fit in one... It was before the time of mobile phone, internet and easy money transfers. I felt it would have tied my footloose and fancy free travelling style, if I HAD to be somewhere on a certain day (besides, I was travelling with BR...). I heard a car slowing down and stopping by my side. A lady was driving and her daughter, not much older than me, rolled down the window and asked where I was heading. I said I was going to the YH. They offered me a lift as it was on their way. They asked if I had made a reservation and were very worried when I said I hadn't. They waited outside and good for them (and me!) as the house was packed. I reserved the following night, but now I had to find a B&B, always a deeper dent to my purse. But my kind rescue squad promised I could stay the night with them and they looked honest enough. The master of the house looked a bit surprised with what the cat brought in from the rain this time, but they were a lovely family. We had supper and the girl and her fiance who turned up took me to see some local sights from the car windows. The mother worked for a vet, always a bonus, but he wasn't a practising vet, he dealt with meat hygiene. I am a veterinary nurse, so it would have been lovely to visit a practice. We corresponded for a few years, but we didn't have that much in common, so it faded away. I sent them loads of Fazer chocolate on my return home as what they did was awfully kind and something I will always remember. Especially when a certain couple of Rose and their less kind activities were found out. They, too, took travellers in...
White Cliffs of Dover, they are a sight from the sea! If I remember correctly, I always crossed from Oostende to Dover when travelling by train. I once came by car, with a six-week-old driver's licence. I had a friend who spoke French, so we crossed from Calais late one evening. It was thundering and both youth hostels in Dover were full. We drove around in darkness and thunder looking for a B&B and there was one which had forgotten to switch off its sign. I guess we woke up the elderly couple and they were doubting first whether to take us, but agreed in the end as the weather was so bad. From our windows was an amazing view to the cliffs and the light show the lightnings gave was nature at its best. The cliffs echoed the roaring of the thunder, so it is definately still my very best storm.

The writer is pulling my leg! I was happy to find a line from Hampstead to Richmond and it took me a while to realise it is long gone 😕.
Sleeping coaches - I only know the German ones. They were unisex, so you could end up sharing your cabin of six with any Fritz, Franz, Heindrich, Detlev or Hans-Josef. I never travelled in Britain overnight, probably because the distances weren't that long. But travelling through Europe around the clock taught me to sleep to the monotonous sound [thu-dunk-thu-dunk-thu-dunk] of the train and I can very well sleep sitting. This book has put me to sleep many a time, so even the mere thought of a train effects as a sedative.
We are approaching Scotland now. I went as far as Wick on my travels. There wasn't much to see there, so while waiting for a train out we counted the McDonalds in the nearby churchyard.

Edit: A cute Hampstead street view.

They went to Mallaig! I've been there in 1998 when I was on a whale-watching cruise for ten days. The ship, Marguarite Explorer, was wintering in Penzance, so we sailed from Penzance to the Hebrides where the ship cruised the summer. It was an unforgettable trip in many ways. First of all, I must have missed the small print as I was sharing my cabin with seven men! They came in all ages and sizes, the oldest was 76 if I remember correctly. So it was also male-watching ☺. Who says Brits are conservatives?? The Irish Sea was rather bumpy, so three of my new room mates were seasick for the first few days. I needed to do something so I took my little vial of homoeopathic Nux vomica -pills which were claimed to be the best for hangover. I've never had a hangover, but I took them along in case I would be seasick. It was just a thought, I had no idea if they would actually help. Now, I gave them my most authoritive vet nurse's orders and said these pills work like magic against seasickness. And they did!
What truly was magic was the way wild dolphins and whales came right next to our vessel to check us out or to frolic around. We went ashore among the civilization just once to pick up food and fuel in Tobermory, but otherwise we didn't meet anybody else (we were ten passengers and three crew members) and took trips to the islands inhabited only by animals - the endearing colony of puffins for instance. In the evenings we played dictionary games and had fun. Three of the passengers were old timers, one was there for the ninth time, so they knew each other, two were a couple and three were travelling Aussies who knew each other, so we were soon like one happy family. And the Cup Tin was really the life and soul of the party, always making us feel at home. But all good comes to an end and just a few hours before we were to leave the vessel we run into a huge school of dolphins just outside the harbour of Mallaig. The crew had wet suits one could borrow, so some of us were lowered to the water and dolphins came to swim with them. It was not real! So, with a climax like that all I did when I sat in the train was cried my eyes out. The amount of people and noise in that train was disgusting after my ten days of peace and quiet. Do I really have to go back? So, I'm reading with interest what I should have seen between Mallaig and Fort William as I have no other recollection of that train trip. Harry Potter wasn't born back then, so I would not have recognized the famous viaduct.
The next thing I remember was that nobody at the tourist info in Fort William knew that Scotland has its own book town, Wigtown. They had to make phone calls to find it and to figure out a bus route for me to take. But that, my friend, is another story.

Finished!
I remember how surprised I was when I was interrailing and realised that when The Beatles went to Bangor to meet their guru with the peculiar name, they didn't go to India, but to Wales!! I've also been to Llandudno and Ffestiniog, the latter being a kind of a shock. Imagine all the greenery of Wales, then the train goes into a tunnel and before it emerges, a nuclear catastrophe has taken place and you come out in a place where there is merely fifty shades of gray. Yep, slate everywhere. Pity it was too heavy to take back home.
What wasn't mentioned in the book, probably because it was NEVER used, was the multimillion Eurostar train terminal below Waterloo station, London. It was meant for trains going to the continent, but then the Channel Tunnel surprised everybody and finally materialised, making the Eurostar terminal useless. It stood empty for a decade, until a theatre group from Yorkshire (where else?) rented it for the perfect stage of the play "Railway children". I went to see it and it was eerie, as everything was ready for customers at the deserted station - kiosks and info stands, everything. Ok, no use for eurotrains, but can't there be a plan B? Ordinary trains? Just how much public money can be wasted for nothing?
I think I know a perfect new reader for this book. I will hopefully meet him in Glorious Yorkshire in a few weeks time.

I'll be taking a fast train to York today and seeing some bookcrossers on Saturday. Hopefully Deltic does not have this already.

Edit: The arrival of the Finnish Ambassador of Yorkshire didn't go quite as planned; The octogenarian ticket salesman at King's Cross took one look at us and said "Tsk, tsk, tickets are mighty expensive at this hour, they are much cheaper on 7 pm. " He failed to say that all the seats had been sold out 😈😈😈. First we waited for two hours at the train station and then stood for two hours in a hot and humid train corridor with seven other people. A small consolation is that finally when we arrived at our B&B there was a gorgeous new landlord here! I might not leave the building at all 😍😍.

Edit 2: I hadn't realised how well advertised my visit was...

Thank you Kirjakko. A perfect book for Deltic! I haven't read this book before although I very nearly bought a copy for my Dad's birthday last year.

Will read your JE's properly when I have a bit more time.

"Slow Train" indeed! Finally I got round to reading this. Trouble is, I started it just before I had my "funny turn" at the beginning of the year and couldn't get back into it.

This was a thoroughly enjoyable read taking me along many familiar railway routes plus some which I will now have to try. The final one almost took me past my house. Well, it would have done if we still had a railway! I arrived in this neck of the woods forty years too late!

Thank for sharing this with me Kirjakko!

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