The last few weeks of the year felt like a bit of an epic slog, and only the prospect of the long break we'd planned over the festive season kept things on an even keel. In recent times, we've fallen into a very pleasant pattern at this time of year - a quiet Christmas, a small gathering at home for New Year, then away on a road trip on the first day of the new year - a week when everyone else is unwillingly slogging back to work. It has worked remarkably well - hotels offer up rooms at ridiculously low rates in the post-festive slump, and if you don't mind short days and sometimes unpredictable weather, then it's a good time to be away - a brave attempt to stave off reality for another week perhaps?

Our trips also have a familiar pattern - up the west coast, the long straight arm of the M6 stretching into northern regions which still feel oddly exciting and wild to me, just like my earliest rail journeys along the remote and sometimes otherworldy main line. We pause on the journey north for a night - often somewhere in Lancashire - to maximise daylight driving, and to rest on what sometimes feels like an epic northern journey. This time our staging post was Liverpool - a city we've visited before, but this time we headed north out of the city in a sudden downpour, towards Stanley Dock. The grid of streets here hasn't seen much redevelopment - the sounds of the much diminished but still busy docks at Bootle shudder through the high walls which surround former smaller basins along the Mersey shore. The landscape is predominantly decaying industry with the occasional tile warehouse or shabby dockers' pub crumbling into the stones. Amidst all this is the Titanic Hotel - a vast, converted warehouse which squats on the northern edge of Stanley Dock. Inside the warm and spacious building a beautiful refurbishment built around the maritime history of the City had transformed the huge space into a comfortable and welcoming hotel. We were almost sorry to just be spending one night in the huge room with a view north across the docks to the mouth of the Mersey.

We set off in the morning and headed back onto the M6 for the journey north to Glasgow, breaking our trip at Abington where the flock of crows which has stalked the service area on two prior visits wasn't to be seen. We were staying for two nights - testament to the success of my gradual reintroduction to Glasgow following a despair-filled visit two years ago. Cruising into the city on the elevated carriageway of the M74 as it curved towards the Clyde, it was impossible not to feel lifted by a return to this place which has long served as a second, northern home to me. The glass towers sparkled in the damp afternoon and the trains shuttled along the bridge high above the river. It was good to be back, and after some confusing changes of room - handled impeccably by the hotel - we found ourselves in a wonderful spot overlooking the roof of Central Station, which reminded me of a visit long ago when the hotel was still a creaking, tired and menacing place with its long corridors stretching endlessly along the wings of the station. A return to Glasgow meant a chance to become tourists again, and we visited the People's Palace - a grave omission from my previous trips when I'd only stepped into the building to use the public facilities. The museum remains in the ownership of the city - an honest and frank appraisal of the rapid rise of the city and the problems that brought, and a celebration of the language, culture and political activism which are never far from any discussion of Glasgow. Afterwards we stepped into an old haunt, The 13th Note - but our quiet drink was disrupted by an ultimately harmless but persistent local who had turned up and seemed to be working the bar for a chat. His prodigious drunkeness though, lost it's charm and shortly after he was moved on - so did we. It was tough to leave the place again, especially in such strange circumstances.

Still repeating our itinerary from previous trips, we next headed through to Edinburgh using the finally completed M8 to swiftly cross from city to city. We'd changed our routine a little for this visit by staying in the New Town opposite North Bridge, with views over Waverley Station and the Castle to the south. It seemed a little strange to abandon the Grassmarket and not to experience the bracing climb up to the Royal Mile each morning, but the new location was a surprising win - affordable and decent accommodation which looked directly into the unattainable windows of The Balmoral across the street! A persistent rain set in a little after we arrived and stuck around for much of our stay - but it was still good to be back in Edinburgh. We headed out to our favourite restaurants and wandered Princes Street, along with a trip to the Scottish National Portrait Gallery housed in a remarkable building and home to a surprisingly varied collection. Edinburgh once again proved to be a relaxing and interesting spot, my old prejudices challenged once again by the city as it sparkled in a light dusting of snow spied from our window over Princes Street. It wasn't easy to leave at all.

Our final destination, after a long haul down the coast on the A1, was York - and again while a favourite location, a new prospect for our accomodation. However, it was to prove an odd and frustrating place. It's fair to say that Hotel Indigo's rooms were beautiful, but getting into the room was a painful process. A parking set-up that defied logic and seemed to require quantum physics to obtain a spot, followed by a check-in process operated by a corporate robot which had less charm and more inflexibility than an automatic check-in terminal was our introduction. The restaurant was even more of a challenge - the concept of Yorkshire Tapas essentially meaning that it was impossible to tell what was a main course, what was a starter and when the dishes would arrive. The staff, young and inexperienced, dashed from one calamity to the next - finally presenting me with a blank sheet of paper to sign when the till crashed.

And so our trip ended on something of an odd note - a fine week of travel, of old haunts revisited and new ones discovered - but with something of a flat last day dealing with the hotel. At the very least we came away with a stock of anecdotes, and the room was truly very comfortable. We've been exceptionally lucky on our trips so this is to be perhaps marked up as a minor irritation and an opportunity to vent on Tripadvisor. We head into the new year, and hopefully new travels, thankful for this all too brief interlude. For a few days at least, when I close my eyes to sleep I see the white lines of the road stretching ahead. I always dreamed of road trips as a child, imagining cruising the idiosyncrasies of the British Motorway System. I'm finally getting to do just that.

There are a few pictures from the trip here.

Despite a couple of opportunities for escape over the extended holiday, this was the first relatively normal trip of 2011. This time of year is always a little odd - a bunch of hastily arranged trips to fill in gaps in a sparse programme of tours - and this week was no exception. The programme was a fairly straightforward one - up to Sheffield, then a spin around the route via Penistone for the long haul homewards. Out into a damp but mercifully frost free morning, and onto the first train of the day. The hacking cough which I'd been suppressing poorly for much of yesterday afternoon had turned into the beginning of a cold. I sniffled and shuffled to the station, looking forward to the opportunity to get coffee. It had, in fairness been a pretty bloody awful week in most respects - uncertainty, doubt, disappointment and frustration had defined the first working week of the new year. Still, today was one of those precious escapes and I wasn't going to waste it.

A little longer at Bristol than normal, as I'd decided on the 07:30 direct to Sheffield. I hadn't any recollection how busy this one got, but the station was extremely quiet. Had a fairly big breakfast - because colds always make me hungry - and quaffed absurd amounts of coffee whilst waiting. On boarding, realised I was practically the only person in the carriage. Settled in for a pleasant ride up to the Midlands, listening to podcasts and watching a surprisingly inspirational sunrise. Surprisingly few passengers joined at Birmingham except for a small group of fans off to Doncaster Rovers, so continued my listening and occasional dozing through Derby and on to Sheffield. Didn't feel energetic enough to stroll into town here, despite blue skies and amazingly warm sunshine - so found a window seat on the concourse and enjoyed yet more coffee. This was a good, calming morning.

If today had a target at all, then the next leg was probably it. I'd done the line to Huddersfield on an All-Line Rover a few years back, and enjoyed the trip a great deal. This spin would take me in the opposite direction around the loop. Shopped a bit, and boarded the unit which soon filled up fairly well - including an oddly smelly young chap who was downwind of me every time the door opened. Not pleasant, but marginally preferable to the racket coming from a large group of Yorkshire youngsters in the next carriage who whooped and hollered their way around most of the line with me! Headphones on, I enjoyed the stunning views from the window - including some sudden bursts of sunshine as we exited tunnels and crossed viaducts over deep valleys. This line rarely gets a mention in 'great railway journey' articles, but it's certainly worthy in my view. Noted a couple of well-preserved station buildings along the way too - not least at Brockholes where the branch to Holmfirth once diverged. Surprisingly soon we arrived at Huddersfield under darkening skies. It was incredibly cold on the platform, with a strange icy rain blowing in under the canopy. Watched the busy station operations for a while, before hopping onto a slightly earlier than planned service to Leeds.

Feeling grim now, with the cold firmly taking hold - so bunkered down in the coffee shop and necked further industrial quantities of strong coffee. Made some notes about the previous week for future reference - there was a lot to remember, and these stocktaking sessions have become rather important in some ways. As I settled back to finish my coffee, the sun streamed through the roof of the art-deco Northern Concourse. Wandered off to find my train home feeling oddly encouraged. The 15:12 to Penzance started here - which meant no great scramble for seats. Found my spot and settled in for the long ride back via Wakefield, then retracing my steps from Sheffield. As we sped south through Derbyshire, the sun began to set in the clear skies. Reasoned that despite a strange week, today had been a good cobweb-clearing trip out. Even a few minutes delay and the wait for a slightly later connection home didn't seem to matter too much. It's good to be back to normal, even if it's only these journeys which are anything close to it!

Having decided on today for the long-promised Eastleigh trip, set off from home this morning in howling wind, driving rain and freezing temperatures. I'll confess I almost turned back on a couple of occasions on the short walk to the station. After a spell recovering on the journey to Bristol, and a decent coffee on arrival, I felt able to press on. More dismay however when I discovered the Exeter-Manchester football special had run a few minutes early.

After watching the developing chaos as the extent of the severe weather in the North began to affect services, onto a mercifully quite lightly loaded two-car 158. Mainly uneventful journey, heard rumours of 34067 'Tangmere' passing on a steam special later. Somewhere south of Warminster, the sun came out - a surprise after the inclement start to the day. Decided to change at Southampton for Eastleigh rather than travelling via Romsey and Chandlers' Ford - meaning a glimpse of Southampton Maritime.

Arrived at Eastleigh and found a small group of locals, along with some fellow travellers from my neck of the woods, and one familiar face from Cardiff rugby specials and South Coast '31 chasing'! Heard 'Tangmere' was due at 13:40 or thereabouts. Almost immediately 66568 passed on an up Freightliner service.

Things now became very quiet. Began to think I'd perhaps made a mistake and mentally plotted a journey back to Southampton. Not time to worry for long however! Firstly, almost everything which normally passes Eastleigh on South West Trains services was stopping today due to engineering works elsewhere. Noted almost the entire Class 442 Wessex Electric fleet during the time I was there. Also, a few of the surviving fleet of slam-door units called. First close look at the new 444 'Desiro' units too. Shunting manouvres involving 60099 and 08664 also kept us entertained.


Finally, a little before Tangmere passed at speed and looking fine in the bright sunshine, things got very busy indeed - a procession of Freightliner services, the first two hauled by Class 57s, and a third double-headed by Class 66s.


Decided to head back on the 1442 Weymouth service. Bumped into more returning locals at Southampton. Busy but uneventful ride back. Heard on arriving at Bristol that Exeter City had held Manchester United to a draw. Promising thoughts of more southbound special trains! From uninspiring beginnings, a very productive day.

Started this morning with a strange urge to get IMAP set up on this machine. Fiddled before work, but didn't really get things moving at all.

Work was busy and disorganised. I think I got things done today to some extent - albeit in a rather haphazard way. This included some OFSTED related work, some IT system administration, some GIS stuff and the usual phone calls etc. When people are left to work together, we seem to get things done without much fuss or problem. It doesn't happen often however.

Back to IMAP on arriving home - learned a lot about SASL and authentication before getting it right. Now I think I have IMAP running more or less how I want it, including webmail for when I'm not at this particular keyboard. Will need to see how it works out.