Ever Shambling Onwards...

My train journey this morning was less than ideal, but since I've had a short time to do some research into why, I thought I'd pass it on to folks.

Apparently, on Saturday night a bridge over the river Crane near to Whitton had part of its foundations washed away, leading to a partial collapse and the loss of most of the ballast. I've seen comments that the whole thing has now gone, but haven't been able to back that up with any credible reports yet. Southwest Trains are reporting that things will be screwed until at least Friday, but other sources are saying longer. I can't really blame SWT for this - they're not responsible for maintaining the track.

What I *can* blame them for is the utter fiasco this morning. A four coach train that's already serving the Weybridge route does not constitute an adequate replacement for the majority of the Reading to London Waterloo line at rush hour on a monday morning. Nor does a rail replacement bus service where nobody can tell you if it's running, where it's running from or to or what the best options are if you're not going all the way to Waterloo. If it had happened this morning, I'd understand the chaos... but it didn't it happened on Saturday night.

My most informative source of information is this:
http://www.richmondandtwickenhamtimes.co.uk/news/4741523.Bridge_collapse_sparks_travel_chaos/
(this backs up the "partial collapse on saturday" part, but not the subsequent "complete collapse more recently" part. Take that bit with a pinch of salt for now.)

It was a bitter cold night, with winds to strip the flesh from your bones. Out on this night were two bloody vikings, making their way across the land in their mighty iron train, when they found their path blocked by a hideous creature...

"What is it?" Said the first bloody viking.
"It's a Gazebo." replied another.
"What does it do?" Enquired the first, clearly confused by it's presence.
"It's blocking the tracks." came the answer.

The first bloody viking left the train and went on a scouting mission, approaching the Gazebo with care and trepidation. He looked at it. It looked at him, angrily.

"I don't like the look of it." said the investigative bloody viking.
"Why not?" enquired his still dry compatriot.
"I think", replied the rain drenched bloody viking, "that it might hit me with lightning."
"Ah."
"I", intoned the first bloody viking, knowledgeably, "suggest that caution is the way forward. We should cut of its power at the source."
"Good idea." said the second bloody viking, and bean intoning the words of power:

  "Hear me, Control,"
  "Hear me,"
  "Hear me, Control,"
  "Hear your faithful minion,"
  "Who does call on you for aid,"
  "Control please cut the power,"
  "That progress may be made."

And lo, the power was cut.

Seeing that his companion's intonations had been effective, the first of the bloody vikings once again sallied forth from the train, braving the harsh elements to do battle with the Dread Gazebo. It did struggle visciously, out there in the howling winds by the town of Brentford. It thrashed and leapt, but eventually the bloody viking was victorious, and the Gazebo was cast asunder.

Once the deed was done and the bloody viking was retured once more to his cab, his companion did once again summon the gods, to return the power of lightening to the land. Once this was done, the mighty pair did continue upon their way, arriving at last in the fabled lands of Staines.


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Yes, my train was delayed for 30 minutes outside of Brentford because there was a gazebo on the line.