An ‘Educational’ Delay at Swindon Train Station

April 9, 2017April 13, 2017 My Housemate's a Mermaid (Alice E. Bennett) Commute, Humor, Humour, Swindon, Tourist, train, Travel Station, train

The weather forecast for today was predicted to be a hot and sunny affair. The weathermen and women of the UK were even daring to utter the warnings of potential sunburn. They needn’t have made such rash suggestions, it only took five words; “temperatures in the high teens”. Suddenly all of Britain snapped into action, if you didn’t have plans for Sunday 9th April then you were either a weird person or a fool. Not wanting to be labelled ‘weird’ (got my street cred to maintain and all) I decided to spend my day off in the fair Welsh capital of Cardiff.

Now, owing to awkward road routes and lack of a car (the latter being more of an issue than the former) I decided to take the train. Via Swindon’s train routes the earliest one can get into Cardiff is 10:53 which in my opinion is too late to begin with, but hey I’m not the train God or a fat CEO man so one has to put up and shut up with these things. This morning I rushed about to get everything done to a strict time schedule to enable me to be out of the door and at the station in time for the first train of the day, the 09:51 to Swansea (via Cardiff Central). Having powerwalked from home to station on a warm morning I arrived at Swindon train station, hot and sweaty, to see this:

You can probably imagine how I felt right then. Delayed trains, story of my ruddy life.

After a lot of face scrunching (that I imagine resembled something like this…)

…I resided myself to the truth that I would be waiting at this station for forty plus minutes longer than planned and made myself somewhat at home in my new surroundings. Surroundings that I’d seen a lot of over the years as a commuter (but to be honest didn’t really care about but now I was forcibly making myself care about to pass the time).

During my delay I learnt some interesting things about Swindon’s train station. Actually, I lie, they’re not that interesting.

I learnt that the station has an old building on the other platform for London trains. Old but not that special:

I also learnt that the station parking is a right royal rip off:

This part of the station meanwhile is completely overgrown with weeds. My train fare may be going on rail replacement works and cleaning staff, but would it kill someone to buy a couple of bottles of Weedol?

And what, I repeat, what, is going on here in the ladies’ loos?

That is no visual trick – there is a randomly empty cubicle space. It made me think of all the things one could do in such a space, but then I realised where I was and decided to not linger more than I needed to. Clearly three toilets are more than enough for female passengers, “if we give them four they will start a revolution! No, we must contain the masses and ensure that the British culture of queuing continues to live on.”

(There’s also this sad sign:)

After walking up and down the same platform multiple times I had funnily enough run out of things to photo. I Googled the history of the weird clock outside on the forecourt.

I learnt that its official title is (I think) the ‘Golden Jubilee Clock’ – very inspiring. Call me cray but I think it was commissioned in 2002 as part of Queen Elizabeth’s Gold Jubilee celebrations. Don’t quote me on that though, I could be completely off the mark on that one.

It also used to live in the town centre…

…before being ~~relegated~~ moved to the train station. How very, very, very, very interesting. Thank you Great Western Railways and your overrunning engineering works for giving me the time to find that out.

By this point I was borderline ripping my eyes out. “HOW MUCH LONGER MUST I WAIT?!” Was the repeating monologue running through my head. The feeling was mutual among all passengers up and down the platform, the tutting was almost audible. Finally, thirty seven minutes later than planned the delayed 09:51 to Swansea showed up. I smugly hopped on my train, leaving behind other delayed passengers. “Heh, enjoy your thirty four minute delay suckers!” I thought.

Upon arrival in Cardiff over an hour later I quickly dashed across the city to one thing I did know, and know it very well. After all that I needed decent coffee and I needed it asap. Cue my ultimate most favourite coffee shop, Barker Street Tea Rooms:

Sat there with my caffiterie and book a thought crossed my mind. “Wait, how long was I delayed by again?” I picked out my train ticket and compared the departure time with the accurate information on my mobile train tracker. With a beaming smile I discovered I had been delayed by thirty three minutes. Thirty was all that was required to submit a ticket refund claim.

Suddenly the time spent at Swindon train station a couple of hours beforehand didn’t seem like such a big a deal. I reflected on my experience and decided to write a blog post about it. I took a sip on my overpriced but delightfully luxurious coffee and lifted my cup ever so slightly in the air. “Thank you Network Rail,” I thought, “this one’s on you.”

UPDATE: I have since discovered that GWR doesn’t offer compensation unless the delay is a minimum of 60 minutes! What is this tomfoolery?! I’m a very unhappy bunny!

Girl About Town: 20 at The Kings

February 22, 2017 My Housemate's a Mermaid (Alice E. Bennett) British, food, Humor, Humour, newspaper, Review, Swindon, Tourist, Travel, Uncategorized food, Review

Alongside news outlet The Swindonian, I’ve started doing freelance work for the ‘what’s on’ website Total Swindon too. Check out my recent review on Swindon based restaurant, 20 at The Kings, here:

Girl About Town: 20 at The Kings

When The World Came Together at Oxford Station

February 21, 2017February 22, 2017 My Housemate's a Mermaid (Alice E. Bennett) Commute, Humor, Humour, Tourist, train, Travel, Uncategorized Oxford, Passenger, train

Standing in the terminal of Oxford railway station I’m familiarised by a classic mix of passenger. The cyclist awkwardly pushing her bike through the ticket barriers, a toddler being led by the impatient mother, the Asian tourist with overflowing bags in hand. Watching the tides of people pour in and out of the confined space it reminds me that at any given moment the order of society, including this station, sits on the brink of collapse and chaos. All it takes is one broken signal and everything will grind to a halt.

If you thought the term ‘diversity’ could only be applied to whole streets and towns then you may need to think again. For contained in these four walls of peeling white paint, tapped across the utilitarian stained floors there speaks a more fascinating image of a fast-paced melting pot. An environment where, for the most fleeting of seconds, East bumps into West, North connects with South, rich mingles with poor. At this train station everyone is unified in the same gripes and grumbles. A delayed train, an out of order toilet, another drunk passenger, they are all received with the same unimpressed reaction.

Waiting for an old friend to arrive from London I am left to wandering thoughts which flow as seamlessly as the passengers coming in and out of the terminal. In this sea of faces and voices which type of passenger am I? Someone awkwardly shuffles behind me to get to the ticket booth I inadvertently block. Does my insistence at lingering beyond my welcome make me the tourist? Men in suits glance my way for a short period before I realise they are staring at the LED light boards above my head. If they are London bound they will need to go to platform one. Does my in-depth knowledge of platform order make me more a commuter? Next to the screaming child and passive aggressive guards it’s hard to think much beyond the bigger question “why am I here still?” It is just at this very point that my friend greets me with a cheery welcome, snapping me out of trance.

Leaving behind the dim and crowded terminal and entering the light exterior my friend’s first thoughts mark a very different take on modern life. “What an awful building!” he says, gesturing to the bricks behind. All thoughts of passengers and trains disappear as I’m faced with a more pressing question from my companion, “now, where on Earth are we headed to Miss Bennett?”

If only life and cityscapes were as easy to interpret as the passengers at train terminals.

Blenheim Palace: The Unofficial Guide

September 1, 2015September 1, 2015 My Housemate's a Mermaid (Alice E. Bennett) Tourist Blenheim, Palace, Tourist

Happy September 1st!!

(What do you mean September 1st isn’t a national holiday? It needs to be, more than anything because papa Bennett hates this song and lil bub Bennett and I would get immense joy from being allowed to play it on repeat one day a year. We need to make it happen.)

Anyway, back to the point at hand, on Sunday myself and the family visited Blenheim Palace, Oxfordshire. A place reowned for its rich history and splendour.

The entrance fee for the day was a whopping £92 (for that price I was expecting to take home a memento piece of silver or maybe a priceless piece of artwork, but to my utter shock even that wasn’t included in the price). To make up for this we refused to buy the official guidebook opting instead to make our own way round without the use of a guide. While we were looking around I suddenly had one of my amazing brainwaves. Why don’t I create a simple, unofficial guide which people can use FOR FREE. After all, I’m renowned for my ability to convey serious, factual information in a captivating way which never goes off the point. Camera and budding assistant (India) in hand, I got to work on producing a new, improved guide. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Blenheim Palace: The Unofficial Guide.

The Exterior

Blenheim was built in the 17th century although over the years it has been extended. The exterior of the palace is very grand. By being grand the palace sent a powerful message: “Oi, monarchy, don’t be messing with us, we’ve got a fine pad too.”

The most recent part of the exterior probably dates from around 1948, when the Duke of Marlbrough took a fancy to the works of Orwell:

There is also ample space for adopting the middle aged man position:

Top Tip: There’s a lot of gravel outside the front, but us oiks aren’t allowed to walk across most of it. Stick to the central section which is disinfected every night.

For a comprehensive summary of the palace’s exterior, check out this useful video where India will tour you around the important features of the palace’s architecture.

In short, there are invisible birds, flies everywhere and there is a risk you might slip through a time hole and be transported back to the Victorian era (Blenheim accepts no responsibility should the latter occur).

Inside the Palace

Inside their are two different tours of the house. The first is titled ‘Blenheim Untold’. This is an exhibition which features holograms, information boards and scary mannequins. Be warned, you will be in a room with a naked Barbara Villiers where you won’t know where to look or how to feel:

The author can’t speak for the rest of the world, but as someone who had a morbid fear of museum mannequins for about 15 years and still doesn’t like them I would thoroughly avoid traumatising your child with such a sight.

There’s also a random cake model of Blenheim Palace here. Made in the 1970s, it was the first ever Bake Off show stopper.

(Still didn’t get star baker though)

The other part of the house open to the public is a self lead affair. There are several lovely tapestries, including this one titled “What the gentlemen did while a historic battle was being fought elsewhere alias what we did on our holidays“

“My, my, what a wonderful day for watching a battle”

“Indeed sir it is. It looks so much fun down there what with the blood and fighting and all. I was briefly tempted to follow them, but then I realised that I was an aristocrat and the feeling passed. Is it lunch served yet?”

“Hey everyone, when you get a moment I’d really appreciate it if you could check out these battle plans I drew up. If you could check them out before some civilians get killed that would be great.”

“Fudge”

There’s also some fancy silver dinner sets that only get used on Christmas day (i.e. marvel at our wealth peasants).

And there are a lot of art pieces in the rooms too. Below are a selection of personal favourites (apologises in advance for photo quality):

The first ever mother, baby selfie:

“This better get at least 10 likes”

The world record holder for sideburns:

The wife of Donkey from Shrek being crushed by a memorial:

Her death is mourned by many

There’s a massive sculpture to in the library, as you do.

You know that feeling when you’re just so fed up of having your portrait taken? There’s even a lovely art piece that summarises the feeling:

Author Recommends: The portrait of Churchill and a horse found towards the end of the Winston Churchill exhibition.

“Mum, mum! You’ll never guess what! I’m going to be in a painting with Winston Churchill! I’ve been posing for hours but it’ll be worth it. I told you I’d do our family proud.”

#Awkward

Top Tip: Check out this mini radiator in the library. Not for any reason in partiuclar, just check it out:

That’s not gonna dry anyone’s socks out or heat a room but I’ll let it slide because it’s so dam tiny. Cute!

Oh, and there are also hats:

Outside

The gardens outside are nice:

A nice garden.

Top Tip: Watch out for stating the obvious signs, e.g. one that tells you not to go beyond this point when beyond this point in a sheer drop.

The garden has some pretty flowers in it:

Pretty flowers.

It also has the first example of photo-shopping in England.

As my assistant demonstrates, posing for such sculptures was a very hard job to do:

Top Tip: There are a lot of good paths for amateur runners.

The grounds contain an attractive man-made cascade with nature-made swan…

…and a bridge nearby that leads to no where (much to the author’s bafflement).

The garden also provides many opportunities for the keen photobomber:

Author Recommends: dancing in front of one of the door ways for no reason:

Has to be done.

Pleasure Gardens

There are some funky butterflies in the pleasure garden:

Funky butterflies.

There is also a maze:

Which floods very easily:

Top Tip: Do not be put off by the puddles. Take a sip of tea, man up and enter:

(In case readers doubted my love of tea)

The maze contains many twisty sections, two bridges and a monster who jumps out at you (otherwise known as dad)

However that said, it was a fun experience (even if the author was beaten by her younger sibling).

Comments Book

Where would any tourist attraction be without its comments book? Lets take a moment to view some of the comments that will always be part of Blenheim’s rich tapestry.

When you’re so happy and excited about something that last word turns in a blur:

The very British comment:

“It was ok, not that good” Age 57

(what a unique name)

Comments from the intergalactic ambassadors:

And finally, the comment that speaks for everyone:

Great tunez they indeed were.

So, to sum up, Blenheim Palace has a lot of art, plants and a dying dragon. Shame about the lack of a free guidebook but then most normal people do actually buy them. That said, this unofficial guide should now fill that gap in the market (you’re welcome). Fun for all the family, a great day out and I’d thoroughly recommend it to all. Can think of absolutely no problems or faults with it at all, keep it the same for forever.

Overall rating: Two Stars.