Friends and regular readers will know that politics (at least in it's door-knocking and rosette-wearing form) hardly gets a mention around here, despite my long held interest. But I've had a few messages from friends concerned about my apparent political about-face, and more particularly about me ending my troubled relationship with the Labour party. I've always admired people who could stick with a football team, however poorly they were doing. The dogged, rather wonderfully British ability to plod headlong into adversity is always good to see in action. However, things have been going from bad to worse for my chosen party for a while now, both locally and nationally - and there has to be a point in politics where the emotional attachment to a romanticised, golden past gives way to a wish to actually do something useful to prevent your area from entering a terminal decline.

I don't know how this little plan will pan out quite yet. I've spoken with a few people locally, and I think for now I'll concentrate on my concerns regarding transport and development control here in Highbridge. In both I can claim some real local knowledge, and an understanding I think of what people here really feel is wrong. I certainly don't plan to make this page some sort of 'local politics' blog, because that sort of thing seems to exist elsewhere in a rather different form. But from time to time, I might post about how Highbridge is changing from my point of view. My site has always described me as a mixture of Victorian high Tory and half-hearted Marxism. As far as social justice, sustainability and responsible administration are concerned, the balance sometimes has to shift.

Since the disappointment of the Glasgow trip, I've been sick and felt pretty dejected. Somewhere this past week I decided I'd check to see if there were any cheap tickets left which would get me out and about to blow away both my persistent cough and the attack of the drabs which seemed to have descended. The first journey I tried was one which popped up in my browser history having been attempted before, and gave some encouragingly low fares I suspect because of the high profile news stories about delays and overrunning engineering works. So once again I would attempt to cover the branch to Rose Hill Marple, for the sake of 1m 2ch of new track!

So today I found myself doing something I'd not done for awhile in struggling down to the station for an early train on a Saturday morning. Last year, with it's challenges, meant less frequent and more carefully thought out trips. It was good to get back to the 'book and go' culture of times gone by, and to just head for some curious destination. While I waited for the train I tested my voice - still weak and strained and my cough still barking furiously if a little less often now. Decided to explore a map of my destination via GPS. Not inspiring - a small suburban terminus at the end of a tiny branch. To me though, it was new track and therefore a goal worth seeking out. Also noted that the 07:00 from Weston was in a confused state - in one entry in the departure list it was cancelled to Leeds, and it then reappeared as running to Manchester Piccadilly. Decided to check at Weston and set off hopefully. On arriving, checked the boards to see the train (definitely Leeds bound now) delayed by around 50 minutes. A quick check of Crosscountry's website revealed this was due to lineside equipment failure delaying the ECS to Exeter. Hopped back on the unit which luckily waited a few minutes for a passing down service, with the intention of trying my luck at Bristol.

Arrived at a dark and cold Temple Meads to find it stuffed with locomotives - a pair of Class 31s top and tailing a test train in the through siding, 66726 lurking in the loco spur and a bunch of Freightliner 66s huddled on the edge of the station. No alternatives here in terms of getting northwards - remembered that all XC services were via Newport and Gloucester, and that the service seemed much reduced. Got coffee and waited at a near deserted platform 7 for 50 minutes or so whilst our train slogged along behind local units. Amazed at how few people appeared to be travelling today. On arrival, found myself a seat in the Quiet Carriage and dozed through the Severn Tunnel. A little after we reappeared from the darkness, a passenger a few seats back leapt from his seat and cursed loudly. It seemed he'd spotted the 'Croeso y Cymru' sign and thought he'd caught the wrong train. Sorted him out and all was again quiet for the pleasant ride alongside the estuary to Gloucester, where again many locos were evident - if not immediately identifiable.

Arrived at Birmingham having made up a fair bit of our lost time, but far too late for my connection to Manchester. Out to customer reception where my request to travel on the 10:48 Pendolino seemed to cause a fair bit of trouble. The Crosscountry representative didn't seem concerned at all, and the Virgin chap decided to grill me thoroughly about my journey. I tried to spell it out simply - 9S49 was delayed by 50 minutes, in fact most services from the South West were late, and I'd missed the 10:20 to Manchester. At this point the Crosscountry uniformed individual awoke and pointed out that these were XC services and the 10:48 was a Virgin service. Cue much slapstick silliness as they jostled to decide which stamp should be applied to validate my ticket, then to find the stamp pad. Throughout this, the Virgin person (who was now quite friendly as it was all XC's fault) was yelling "quick, or this gent will lose his train". It would have been pretty funny, had it not been so indicative of much which is wrong with the railway. Made the 10:48 by the skin of my teeth, and spent an interesting journey listening to a travelling soap opera being conducted by mobile phone a few seats back.

Arrived at Piccadilly with minutes to spare. I'd feared that I'd not make Rose Hill again due to the delays, and I'd almost resigned myself to a couple of hours in Manchester instead which is never unpleasant. However, managed to reach the unit in time and set off for a bumpy ride through the suburbs. Familiar track to Woodley from last year's Branchline Society tour which reversed at Bredbury waste terminal. Then, immediately after crossing the River Goyt on the impressive Marple Viaduct we took the branch to Rose Hill - and finally after several attempts, I scratched one of the few tiny bits of track I still need in this part of the world.

Had a wander around the immediate environs and made a quick 'phone call. Not much here, but there was a reasonable looking Robinsons' pub which I managed to avoid for fear of getting too comfortable in the warm. Tried to figure out instead, why this branch merited a double lead at the junction trailing into a single line? Suspected it was to avoid a crossover on the viaduct. Made mental notes to research where this branch went before it was cruelly curtailed in this rather quiet cul-de-sac. Soon time to board for the trip back to Piccadilly. Again very little time in Manchester, enough to buy provisions for the trip back and to find a comfortable seat. Decided to upgrade to First Class since I had a fairly long trip ahead of me. Some confusion, and my tickets were taken back to be discussed with the small group of train managers onboard. The TM returned to tell me that upgrades to Value tickets were no longer allowed but I could have an upgrade today because the changes were not known to all XC staff yet. I pointed out that they were also not made clear in the announcement that upgrades were available, which the TM conceded was the case. I asked if it was all about generating revenue, and he politely declined to disagree. I pointed out that with overcrowded trains, an empty First Class carriage was wasteful. Again he shrugged his frustrated agreement. Settled in for a quiet ride back to Bristol which reminded me of the old days of catching Manchester-Paignton Class 47 hauled services for the fun of the exotic route via Camp Hill and the 5mph creep around St Andrews Junction.

It was good to get out today, and to exorcise some of the ill-feeling from last week. As we passed Wolverhampton this morning, almost a week to the minute we learned the tour was cancelled I think I gave up feeling angry about it! The urge to get out and do these little trips is strong again, and provided the finances hold out and the cheap tickets stay available, I think I'll try a few more this year.

I've resisted posting about the events of last Saturday so far. Partly, because I felt incompletely informed and didn't want to add to the spiralling conspiracy theories already being spun by some of the usual suspects. Also because I'm still rather angry about how things happened, I felt I'd probably end up sounding like a petulant little chap who'd had his Saturday ruined. In essence, there are several hundreds of us who all feel the same and one more bleat will be insignificant. For the record though, here is how the day developed from my perspective...

Woke early, still feeling crappy and wondered about the wisdom of doing this trip with a nasty dose of some virus which has been doing the rounds. The thought of a few hours in Glasgow soon got me moving and down to Redditch station for the 06:27 to New Street. Arrived in good time to get coffee, suppress a violent coughing attack and locate the platform with the help of customer services, since once again the charter had not made the screens here. After finishing my coffee, noted that platform 7 was looking rather empty so wandered back up to the concourse to find much confusion and many groups of gibbering enthusiasts providing entertainment for the locals. Noted the tour now on the screen and 'delayed'. Ominous, but not disastrous by any means, and a driver working to a tight schedule means a spirited run! Since talking hurt, listened in to some of the circulating gen - the stock remained at Oxley due to faults, but it was unclear whether the loco was a failure. Suddenly the cry went up "To Wolverhampton!". After checking that my medications hadn't plunged me into some delirious black country version of Braveheart, got myself together. Tried for the 07:57 to Shrewsbury which appeared to be full of frothing bashers, but my tired legs didn't make it - and since Virgin had announced that the 08:03 would connect I wasn't too concerned. So, unexpectedly continued my journey on 390024 and soon found myself on the chilly platforms at Wolverhampton only really a few minutes after the train's booked time here, which was 08:12. All seemed optimistic again. I didn't bother to get a drink - since I'd soon be on the train.

Two hours later, platform one was a sea of discontented folk milling about. The tour was on the screen, still delayed, and bits of gen were circulating - the main one being that the train was not yet cancelled. There was some problem with the stock, which was being sorted. I was convinced people would work on getting this train out - being a finale and all - and whilst the wait was inconvenient and rather painful, it would all be worth it eventually. Found myself near a group of people I took to be Spitfire employees, who remained buoyant - so why shouldn't I? Soon after, a little more positive news via one of the few announcements made regarding the train - 87022 would lead the stock south from Oxley on a test run, looping back around to Birmingham. We watched the rake pass - the loco gleaming, radiating quiet power as it purred by. The DRS stock equally resplendent behind, before giving way to some rancid purple stuff on the back. Not long now, we all thought - much encouraged to have seen the train move. Only at this point did I remember not seeing any labels on the carriages, which I took to be odd. This haunted me a bit, as we settled in to wait for the train to return, but perhaps that would be put right on the test run?

At almost departure +3 hours, people began to get restless again. The gen was that the tour was around the corner at Crane Street, that it would run, and that all being well we'd still head for Glasgow despite a much reduced stopover. It meant my symbolic wander to the Molendinar Burn would have to wait - but I wasn't really in any condition for it. By now I was aching and cold, and my nagging cough assured me of plenty of space on the otherwise packed platforms. We were going to see the 87s off in style, that's what counted. The Spitfire people seemed almost jolly, and we were all rewarded with the sound of a horn and the sight of 87022 creeping forwards into the platform. At last.

The events of the next sixty seconds remain less than clear to me now, so I apologise if I overdo the journalistic tone here. With the stock heading towards me in reverse formation, I started walking back to where First Class would end up. There were still no labels, and I didn't want a scrap for a seat or a struggle through a seething rake of Standard Class coaches doing the same. As I walked, the Customer Information System comfortingly showed the tour, it's original departure time and proudly announced the 'Farewell Electric Scot'. Relieved it was all going to happen, even if it was a little later than expected. Now out from under the canopy I saw a DRS steward in impeccable uniform leaning from the droplight of a beautifully turned out dining coach. He was shaking his head in disbelief, and waving his hands at a small group of punters. "I'm sorry" he was saying "we've been on this train getting ready since 05:30. I just don't understand". Much confusion - word was people were getting on at the front but being asked to leave. The announcer stated that the fault hadn't been rectified and that the train was not ready for boarding yet. The steward, clearly devastated insisted it was all over and how disappointed he was. Suddenly, the Spitfire people were gone - likely swamped by enquirers.

And then the announcer gave the news the train was cancelled and would return to Oxley. As the stock passed slowly out of the platform, I realised I'd not even got a picture of 87022. In one of the First Class coaches, someone sat with his head in his hands, being comforted by a colleague. As the taillight passed me, I thought I better try to find out what was happening. Platform 1 was in chaos - no tour staff, few Virgin staff and a lot of confusion about what to do or where to go. I asked a Virgin staff member about getting back to Birmingham, and he stated that unless I had a valid National Rail ticket I should now leave the station. I showed my tour ticket and he said "No good, sorry". I decided to get the tram back to Birmingham Snow Hill because arguing didn't seem like a good idea just now. I've heard that others had much more sympathetic responses from Virgin though, so perhaps I was just unlucky - or my gravelly voice and unkempt appearance worked against me!

So today, a whole host of non-OTMR fitted locomotives become stored. Some, like the 87s will go on to have useful lives elsewhere, others will of course be scrapped or move into preservation. A great deal has been written about this tour since Saturday - some of it useful insights into the stock faults which appear to have been the main reason for the failure, some of it less helpful frothing about 'the old days'. Overall though, there are a lot of unhappy people out there who feel cheated of a chance to say goodbye to a bit of railway history. We railtour passengers take the reschedulings, re-routings and changes of motive power in our stride, sometimes voting with our feet - but mostly just complaining a bit and getting on with it. I'm sure if this hadn't been such a final opportunity it would have been the same for this tour - but it can't happen again. Spitfire's conduct after the event has been exemplary. Lots of info, promised refunds, much concern and understanding - and people appear to have genuinely accepted that they hate how this has ended more than anyone. It's a shame that on the day they weren't a little more communicative, but that's not entirely down to them - and getting station staff to give explanations is never easy of course.

So that was how things were for me. Bitterly disappointing, and a rather sad end to a sparse year of travels. I won't have nearly the opportunities to get out I have in the past this coming year - and I just hope that I do get the opportunity to travel with Spitfire again sometime.

It's become customary over the past few years for me to update the old daylog on Christmas day. Not so much because of any specific significance of the day - but it's served as a marker, and a rare moment of peaceful reflection. It's been a much more settled festive season for me this year - with work issues finally less directly painful, a few fantastically funny nights with good friends, and despite the persistent coughs and colds, almost all of us healthy. Naturally this didn't stop me finding the whole occasion particularly emotional where my nephew was concerned - and his ever growing understanding of the world, sense of comic timing and social confidence continue to make me proud and honoured by his presence. Most of all, I'm excited by the thought of the next addition to the family because I think he'll make a fantastic big brother!

So, as I face a year of potential financial upheaval amongst other challenges, my immediate thoughts turn to a number of planned excursions - not least those to Glasgow - and the soundtrack of Belle and Sebastian's rather wonderful Are You Coming Over for Christmas? seems appropriate. Despite the aches and pains, coughs and sneezes and trials and tribulations which led us here, it's been a calm and peaceful day.