A Recipe for Disaster
Tomorrow, I’m attempting to get to Ipswich to see them play Nottingham Forest. The East Anglian main line through Chelmsford is shut as far as Ilford, so you have to take a tube to Newbury Park station and then get a special bus to Ingatestone, where you get the train to Ipswich. It started to go wrong today with a serious road crash outside Newbury Park. Earlier this evening, I was passing Liverpool Street station, so I went in to buy a ticket. I said that I wanted to be in Ipswich by 15:00 and wanted to return home any time after 17:00, so could I have a Cheap Day Return. The man in the ticket office didn’t think he could sell me one and wanted to charge me about £46.00 for the return. He said that I might get it cheaper, if I nomininated particular trains. But when there’s a coach service in the middle, I’m reluctant to do this.
When I returned home, I phoned National Express East Anglia and they said that Cheap Day Returns will be available.
But what with coaches, a Bank Holiday and new fares coming in, I think we have a recipe for disaster, so I’m looking at serious alternatives, including going to Cambridge and getting a train to Ipswich from there. It will be more expensive, but probably a lot more reliable. It’s also a few minutes quicker and I could have lunch in Cambridge on the way out or dinner on the way back.
After the Match
It was in some ways a disappointing draw for Ipswich, as they dominated for long periods and should have scored two before they actually did.
But we did have the pleasure of seeing the odious Marlon King sent off for a tackle well up with the sort of behaviour that got him doing time in prison.
I had been assured by one of the stewards that there would be buses from Tesco’s after the match.
Wrong! Especially, as he’d checked on the radio.
So it was a taxi to the city centre, which cost me as much as my lunch and about the same as a one-way ticket to or from London. Still the vehicle was clean and the driver was pleasant enough.
I do find it rather sad, that in some of these cities, like Coventry and Middlesbrough, it seems that the limit of ambition of many Asian youth is to own their own taxis and consequently, these cities seem to have thousands of taxis, completely non-functioning bus systems and no decent walking and cycling routes.
Perhaps though, it is not the limit of their ambition, but surely there are other worthwhile professions they could enter.
Or is it down to that belief typical of many young men and probably me at 20, that you aren’t anybody unless you have your own car.
Only now, when driving is off-limits to me, do I realise that there is something better. Certainly in London, I am more mobile now on the buses after a stroke, than I was in my twenties, when I had a car and all the attendant costs and problems like finding a place to park.
What I Had Intended to Do Yesterday!
In an earlier post, I said how disappointed I was with Coventry yesterday.
To be fair to the city, I think I should say what I had intended to do and talk about some of it.
When I got my fixture list, I saw that Ipswich Town were playing there on New Year’s Day, so I made a mental note that if I had moved to London by then, I would go and visit the cathedral, as it is a mystical place, where I could contemplate the recent deaths of my wife and son. I thought too, that I might sample a good curry before the match and perhaps visit an art gallery or a museum.
The day had started well, with just the minor distraction of being unable to buy my copy of The Times at Euston, after a twenty minute bus ride from the Balls Pond Road, just round the corner from where I live.
The train left London dead on time and all the way to Coventry, I had two seats side-by-side in Standard Class all to myself. My only complaint would be that the seat back tables are a bit difficult for me to balance a magazine on, but then that isn’t serious and as I was paying just over £10 each way, it was good value and comfortable.
Arriving in Coventry, we were still on time and as I don’t know the city well, I decided to look for a map or some form of tourist information. Perhaps, I should have gone elsewhere or perhaps come on a different day, as I couldn’t fmind anything. I almost felt that I’d come to Coventry on the wrong day for the match, as the place was totally closed. Even the WH Smith’s was closed, so I couldn’t get my paper.
outside of the station, the forecourt was equally dead with no buses or taxis. Eventually, I found a helpful Coventrian, who pointed me to a rather scruffy underpass and bridge that led towards the city centre. It wasn’t the best marked walk, but I got there passing perhaps half-a-dozen people on the way. Comparing this to the busy Upper Street, the bus had taken me through on the way to Euston, just reinforced my fears that Coventry was in fact shut and I should make my way home as soon as possible to watch other football on Sky.
There was few people about, as I walked up past a few smark banks and endless dreary stores, which seemed to be mainly amusement arcades or pawn shops.
The cathedral is surrounded by a few mediaeval steeets and I did find a Pizza Express, where I decided to have a salad Nicoise for lunch, as time was now running short and I hadn’t seen an Indian restaurant, let alone one that looked to be decent. The salad was acceptable, but the waitress got it delivered with bread sticks, so I sent it back. Although she talked and behaved like one of Catherine Tate‘s creations, I put it all down to bad training, so it wasn’t her fault.
I then walked to the cathedrals and like the rest of the city they were deserted. Perhaps, not a bad thing really, as I was able to pay my respects to both my wife and son and those who died in Coventry’s Blitz in almost absolute silence.
After the visit I walked towards the bus station and found a Sainsburys, where I was finally able to buy my copy of The Times. But was Sainsbury’s busy? No! Of course not. Perhaps, evrybody was sleeping off last night’s excesses, but it was now after two.
It was now getting to be like one of those series, where everybody has died from some sort of bug and there is no-one left. Now that I’d got the paper, I actually checked that Ipswich were playing in the city, but couldn’t find the fixture list.
The bus station was totally deserted except for a few Coventry fans looking for transport to the Ricoh. But there was none, until two kind Coventry fans suggested they give me a lift.
Surely, Coventry City shouldn’t have been selling tickets, as they did to these fans, without making sure that the transport was in place.
Travelling to the Ricoh at Coventry
Radio 5 this morning, is headlining a story that there is a bug in the iPhone. What do they think? I’ve been writing software for nearly 50 years and if you show me a man, who says he’s got a bug-free program, I’ll show you a liar.
To tell my story of yesterday, I send an e-mail entitled “Fix the iPhone, How About Fixing Coventry First”
I went to Coventry to see Ipswich play. As I can’t drive because of my strokes, I took the excellent train from Euston. However, there were no buses running from the city centre to the Ricoh Arena. Coventry was like a morgue too, with few restaurants and shops busy. In the end two kind Coventry fans took me to the stadium, but the taxi back cost more than my lunch and almost as much as a one way ticket on the train. No wonder a only a small crowd turned up to the match.
Surely, if cities like Coventry want to attract visitors, they should put in public transport that works. I suspect though that they’re all still in bed, as the Christmas iPhones don’t work.
I tweeted the whole journey on my elderly Nokia 6310i, that has no bugs and an alarm that works.
After I’ve posted this, I’ll be sending copies to disinterested parties, who don’t care. I don’t anymore, as I won’t go to Coventry again to see football, without a cast-iron guarantee that buses are running to the Arena from the Station.
Tweeting My Way South
On the two trips to south London, I used my trusty Nokia 6310i to send messages to Twitter.
In both trips I got a story going; the first about how I’d borrowed the landlord’s dog from the pub next door for protection and in the second about travelling with an attack cat, who got rather agitated in Catford.
Today, I’ll be tweeting my way north, as I’m off to Coventry to see Ipswich Town play.
If you want to follow me, my Twitter ID is VagueShot.
The Cap That Cheers
In most of my travels, I wear an Ipswich Town woolly hat, with the horse badge on the front. In the weather, we’ve been having lately, some form of head-gear has been essential.
But in a city, with many other clubs, has it even been a liability?
In fact quite the reverse and it has been accepted with warmth, in a city with lots of major clubs. One Spurs supporter on a Victoria Line train even said. “Don’t worry about the hat. We’ve never had any issues with Ipswich. Best of luck to you.”
That was typical! But then to many football supporters, the game and the chat about it, is bigger than any individual club, even if they want their club to win at all times.
My Australian Friend Even Sent Congratulations
It is good to wake up this morning to the news that England have retained the Ashes.
One of my Aussie friends even sent congratulations and said well done!
I Need a New Duvet Cover
Not for my bed I hasten to add, but for my spare guest room. As most of the guests will be couples, wouldn’t it be a good idea to get a proper Ipswich Town duvet cover for that bed!
New Year Football is Going to be Fun
Over the last twodays, I have watched two of the best televised matches from the Premier League, that I’ve seen in a long time. On Sunday, Spurs beat Aston Villa at Villa Park by 2-1, playing with ten men for a lot of the match and scoring two of the best goals I’ve seen this season. Not to be outdone, their arch-rivals, Arsenal, took Chelsea apart by 3-1 last night.
Could the Premier League title be going to North London? Remember as I said here, the year ends in one.
And then there is the small matters of Ipswich’s two cup ties; the two-legged one against Arsenal in the Carling Cup and the Third Round of the FA Cup against Chelsea.
I don’t hold out much hope in the Carling Cup for Ipswich, but who knows what will happen at Stamford Bridge, when a demoralised Chelski face a fresh Ipswich side, who’ve haven’t played since the heart warming Leicester match.
The FA Cup is getting to be a great leveller, especially when mollycoddled millionaires come up against supposedly inferior, but more enthusiastic players, who want to prove they deserve their day in the limelight.
We live in interesting times.
If You Think There Are Cheats in Sport, Remember the Nazis
There is a wonderfully inspiring interview with a lady of 90 called Dorothy Tyler in The Times today. She would have won the gold medal in the high jump in the Berlin Olympics, but for the count-back rule at the time. And that despite the Germans entering a man, Dora Ratjen, to replace their best female high-jumper, who was Jewish. She then went on to win another silver at the London Olympics of 1948. This time it was all fair and square and she was beaten by the first black female Olympic gold medallist, Alice Coachman. She said this of her defeat.
“She was from a very poor family,” Tyler says. “She used to have to pick corn and walk through the fields to school. We exchanged addresses after the competition and I kissed her when she won, which seemed to amaze everyone. One of the reporters asked: ‘How did I like being beaten by a black woman?’ I said: ‘As far as I was concerned, she was a competitor representing her country.’ ”
She eventually competed in the 1956 Games in Melbourne, but she never got the gold she deserved and would have certainly got under modern rules.
Now come 2012, she is an obvious candidate to present the medals in the women’s high jump in London. But I doubt she’ll be asked to do it, as someone from the the so-called great and good, will be called upon, because it is his turn.
This article alone made the purchase of The Times worthwhile.
The Anonymous Widower 