Lost Weekend: The Top of Town 12 years ago
Posted in Railways on Friday 7th September 2012 at 9:09pm
I used to refer to these strange interludes when something went wrong with the plan as "Lost Weekends". They've mercifully been rare over the years - save for the bad patch in 2007 and last year's "Lost Week" which oddly enough coincided with the riots - a strangely distracted and depressing week indeed. It's a little late to claim this as some sort of anniversary of those events, but it's oddly close. So, we face an uncertain Autumn, and sad to say I have a rather worrying sense that for some of the tour organisers, this is now terminal. ASLEF's dispute is about rest day working, and the fact that TOCs should take on more drivers rather than stretch the existing workforce. I think that's unrealistic. They key to success in straightened times is flexibility - and a whole host of new drivers during uncertain financial events just puts a lot of people at risk of redundancy. Some might claim that it suits the unions, as it provides a buffer between their members and the bleeding edge of cuts. But the fact remains that a healthy company is more likely to retain staff, so attacking customers isn't a good strategy. Sadly of course this little niche market is just a fragment of the rest day working done so the lobby is powerless. We're at the mercy of the unions in an uncomfortable way and one of my prized hobbies is dying as a result.
And its exactly because of this that I find myself in Basingstoke.
Last weekend I complained bitterly all over social networks about Doncaster. It was certainly deserved - despite its good shopping opportunities and its excellent position on the ECML, its a grim and occasionally lawless spot. The fact was I had a fairly neutral experience despite the dullness of the time there - I could have been doing other things elsewhere and felt a bit trapped. That was the key to my dismay. But this week, after a fairly good week at a new job I ended up taking a train to Basingstoke. It was planned that this would let me pick up the Charity Railtours trip to East Anglia. This had already taken a battering - banned from the GEML because it fell during the Paralympic period, redated once, and finally cancelled to be run later.
I arrived in Basingstoke late, in evening sunshine. It is, in my experience, the best way to see a town. I'd been here before - the useful station facilities are good and I recall being taxied here from Southampton once too. I'd even waited for a late-running Voyager to arrive in a little more style than a Networker. But once out of the station I was plunged into a mall - a long, insulated stretch of covered shopping space. Having consulted my maps before travelling, I couldn't see any other way to get across town except taking a very long route around. The first mall, a spacious, ominously empty affair gave way to a short stretch of daylight before the doors of another mall reared up. There was no escape or alternative route - except for access to a car park. This second, older mall was white, tiled, shiny - probably of 90s vintage. It was largely empty too - I'd wondered if these routes would even be open in the evening, but it seems that they are so fundamental to getting around town that they have to be. One consequence of the accretion of building projects is that the signage and wayfinding is inconsistent. It's impossible to plot a route without instinct. I pitched it just about right - emerging in a car park at the end of the mall. To my right, an old town street curved up a hill - even that was pedestrianised and made part of the sweep of retail. I veered left, across the empty expanse of parking spaces.
The Red Lion Hotel is a strange, red brick 1970s extension to an old pub. Like many independent hotels of it's vintage it feels a little tired, a little unkempt and weirdly cold inside - but it was pretty good. Clean, safe and staffed by some really good people. A bright, open smile and an unexpected conversation awaited me. It felt like the first human experience I'd had since I left the train and as such was very, very welcome. My room - home for the next two days - was fine too. I had nothing to complain about, yet I was still finding Basingstoke difficult to understand. I didn't want to be here, hated the way the Town Centre space had been privatised and didn't have the planned trip to fall back on as a reason for this. It was a difficult, dull night I faced...
Tomorrow, I'll predictably go to London again. It's still the midst of the Paralympics of course, and I wonder what I'm going to find - I'm also acutely aware how much time I seem to be spending there lately. But it feels like the only reasonable escape from here just now.
Since my efforts to regularly blog about the music which is capturing my imagination has run into real life - and found work, and unusually a number of other creative exploits blocking the way - I've decided to try to capture more sporadic thoughts. One that has cropped up recently is the thorny issue of learning about other's musical tastes - especially at the beginning of a relationship, when I often find music takes on a disproportionate importance. The extreme lack of commonality described in Kid Canaveral's "Smash Hits" is of course fairly unlikely - you wouldn't generally find yourself having much in common with someone with wildly opposing tastes, but there is always that risk - to the ego if nothing else - that your dearly held gems are not appreciated by your significant other. That the time and attention you've lavished on collecting, understanding and appreciating these significant pieces of music is seen as time wasted on a harmless, if geeky, hobby. The word itself conjures images of garden sheds with suburban housewives reassuring each other that "it's fine, he's out there playing his music".
Like all of the cultural preening and positioning which goes on in these formative early days of a relationship, there was, at least when I was younger, an etiquette of sorts - and the mix tape was the ultimate expression of your musical feelings. This carefully filled C90 cassette was sweated over, the selection designed to express everything which your inarticulate teenage tongue just couldn't seem to speak aloud and to do so in ways which just wouldn't have worked well in your clumsy inexperienced voice. Perhaps now, seeking the same effect I'd be moved to think about B.S Johnson's words on originality:
Certainly I feel it has all been said
The short fear is that even saying it
in my own way is equally pointless
I confess to spending serious amounts of spare time on sequencing these tapes - carefully ensuring they mixed the key point of my musical interest with sufficient hooks to ensure that the intended recipient couldn't help but be ensnared by my remarkable and eclectic taste. And the odd thing is, sometimes it worked! Naturally there were failures - there was a period during which I was roundly accused of "musical fascism" and I'd be lying if I denied the existence of a counter-compilation of 1990s 'baggy' music entitled "Fuck Off Mike Newman". Even then, back in far less certain times, I thought that one was a compliment. The mix tape doesn't always - indeed very rarely gets the girl.
A rare weekend when England's cricket, football and rugby teams all seem to be suddenly winning! Saw the football match yesterday, which was possibly the least inspiring of my sport viewing options. Was amused/alarmed by St. George flag burning antics in Macedonian crowd! Busy times. Got lots of tidying, moving stuff around and general sorting done today. Popped over to Burnham to collect new bookcases, which make life a lot tidier hereabouts. First one was painful to assemble, but we were like professionals for the second! Also brought back five boxes of records - the first time some of them have been with me since I left Burnham six years ago! Still more to come however... Fixed aftermath of RedHat beta updates, which didn't work well for me. This got the site and CVS back up. New GNOME build shows 2.4 promise. Sleepy.
Daylog Entry for 07/09/2002 22 years ago
Posted in Updates on Saturday 7th September 2002 at 12:00am
Very early start to get to Clifton Down station for coffee and a walk to Burwalls (a rather fine Victorian House belonging to the University of Bristol), for what is apparently the first-ever conference on Thomas Chatterton. Apprehensive of facing academia on such a direct footing, but pleasantly surprised by the range of disciplines, openness and spirit of cooperation on display. Maybe my years in Local Government have left me somewhat cynical about such group endeavours. A morning of literary papers is followed by art and architectural discussions with a heavy Bristol focus. Later, we all trek down to St.Mary Redcliffe for a fascinating tour with an English Heritage expert and a short concert of 18th century music and folk song. A really amazing day. Glad I overcame my nerves for this. Later, very good and very extensive take-away from the Bengal Raj - possibly now my favourite Indian Restaurant in the world!
Lost::MikeGTN
I've had a home on the web for more years than I care to remember, and a few kind souls persuade me it's worth persisting with keeping it updated. This current incarnation of the site is centred around the blog posts which began back in 1999 as 'the daylog' and continued through my travels and tribulations during the following years.
I don't get out and about nearly as much these days, but I do try to record significant events and trips for posterity. You may also have arrived here by following the trail to my former music blog Songs Heard On Fast Trains. That content is preserved here too.
