It's been a strange season for our local summer steam service. An early start, with some odd gaps in the programme. One other, almost traditional occurrence is that the charter will be diesel hauled at least once during the run - if only to upset the massed ranks of steam fans who religiously plod down to the station to watch... And with 71000 out of action, and other steam locos engaged elsewhere, today was that day...

Not the most interesting of traction choices, but it was good to see a loco which normally potters about on my commuter train to work getting to stretch its legs with a proper train for a change!

With the railtour scene mostly still on holiday and me just about dragging myself out of the expensive early summer rush, I found myself booking a couple of trips rather late. This meant a panic to find interesting routes with cheap tickets, and for this weekends trip I used Virgin's recent discount First Class offer to work out a trip along the southern reaches of the West Coast Mainline. Having done the run to Manchester fairly recently I decided to revisit Liverpool, with a circular route taking in a solid 500 miles of diverting travel. I'd last visited Liverpool as recently as January, and found it in transition - the area around Lime Street station in particular seemed to be opening up allowing new views of the city. Today started less promisingly than that bright cold January morning however, as I woke up much too early and found myself hanging around seemingly for ages on a damp platform. I felt out of sorts - and couldn't place why at all. I'd been looking forward to the freedom and solitude of a trip on service trains for a while, so it was strange to feel so disconnected from the trip. In anycase, settled in for a sleepy trip up to Bristol in time for the 07:00 service to Birmingham. Once again, my seat nemesis was around - but luckily didn't seem to be going for 1M21 this time. Got breakfast and settled in for a quiet ride up to the Midlands. I'd booked in a bit of a wait here just in case things went badly, and found myself with time to kill over a coffee. I found a spot where I could watch the comings and goings around the station, remembering it was only 08:30 or so - meaning the traffic was a mixture of families heading off on holiday, reluctant Saturday workers heading into town, and slightly bedraggled revellers from the previous evening. Felt a little more human, and headed down to find my train to Liverpool.

It was a strangely warm and uncomfortable ride up through Crewe, and I wondered for the first time today if I was succumbing to a virus or a cold? Distracted myself with some music and tried to avoid thinking too much about anything too concerning. Managed to doze and listen my way north, and soon found myself passing the depot near Edge Hill and plunging into the deep cutting which leads into Lime Street. My first thoughts on arrival focused on how tidy things were. The station had seen a much needed clean-up, particularly on the southern platforms which saw most long-distance trains. A new customer lounge and retail units now occupied the cab road, and the glass in the roof and station front had been cleaned to let in a huge amount of natural light. Explored a little more, before venturing out onto the newly created plaza with steps and slopes leading gently up to the impressive terminus. The work which had been in progress during my last visit, now complete, had done a huge amount to raise the profile of the station in the city. Noted however, that Liverpool Pride was due to take place today. Why am I unable to come to Liverpool without both feeling rubbish and finding some sort of parade or protest in progress? Perhaps they parade a lot more up here?

Once over the crossing and into the city centre, much remained as I'd seen it before - with the busy shopping area teeming with people on what had turned from a damp lunchtime into a surprisingly warm afternoon. Made a beeline for the coffee shop, but on the way spotted a bookshop. I've been ruminating on reading a lot this week, for a number of reasons, but realised I had nothing I particularly felt like reading. Found a couple of novels I'd thought of tackling before, before being dispatched to get a third one free by the cashier. This last choice - technically one which cost me nothing of course - took by far the longest. Found myself ending up with two books based in Glasgow and one London novel. I must be one of the few readers who categorizes their choice of reading in such a way? Got the coffee as planned, and made contact with the outside world, before heading back into town. By now, the sun had appeared and Liverpool seemed to have burst into life. Particularly impressed by the strange entertainment consisting of children being zipped into huge transparent plastic balls and hurling themselves around a small pool of water in the middle of the city. Made my way back to the station to find the patron saint of silliness himself in statue form, with Ken Dodd cast in a surprise meeting with Bessie Braddock MP. This has been here for sometime, but with the scene now lit from behind by sunshine, I had a chance to look at it properly. This also gave me an excuse to turn to get a picture of 390009 arriving to form my next service.

Slumped into the uncomfortable Pendolino seat feeling grim, and almost immediately dozed off. A couple of newlyweds nearby were enjoying a picnic of over-ripe cheese and other pungent treats which wasn't especially helping - though the service was good, with a Scouse host who would have happily dished out the entire contents of the complimentary refreshment trolley if he'd found takers for it. Half-snoozed my way south, waking at various points along the route and feeling surprised at how quickly we'd got there! Certainly remember speeding south through the middle road at Crewe, and passing Nuneaton and Rugby. After that, I recall the junction at Roade, and then nothing much until somewhere near Kings Langley. Here we began to pass a procession of trains on the slow lines, and I kept myself entertained watching out for these, and for the various depots at Wembley and Willesden. I arrived at a busy, fractious Euston feeling hot and uncomfortable, and not really knowing what to do next. The new couple also seemed to be oddly affected by Euston, as they bickered about Eurostar check-in times whilst scurrying up the ramp to the concourse. Things are never truly perfect, and an elaborate picnic hamper might well hide a multitude of oddities and potential disappointments. I realised I was being uncharitable and projecting my gloom onto this hapless and happy pair. I silently wished them no harm and a safe journey and slunk on my way feeling mean.

In the event, decided to head back to Paddington. Walked to Euston Square station, passing some of TfL's new hire bikes, and picked up a recent Oyster refund in the process of descending to the platform for the Circle Line - which was today, and now rather unusually, running as a Circle! Made the short hop to Paddington, but decided to head for the street instead of the station. I'd been intrigued by the hinterland behind the station since arriving by No. 46 bus a couple of weeks back. So I crossed Praed Street and ducked into London Street. I almost gave up here, as I found myself entangled with the sinister behind-the-scenes quarter of St. Mary's Hospital. Strange old buildings loomed beside the narrow pavement, mostly for storage but some seemingly abandoned clinical facilities. One particularly eerie building had vents down below ground level, and I was amazed to hear trains being announced from below! This must have covered part of the suburban side of the station somehow. Followed a further cobbled pathway, despite not having decent footwear for such wandering, and found myself passing between the high wall at the edge of the station site and blocks of medical office accommodation. Suddenly the scene opened out, and an impressive glass footbridge was provided to cross the Paddington Basin of the Grand Union Canal. Did so, noting that the bridge looked like it might be lit up at night, being constructed with a strange lightbox as its central section. From here, wandered back to the road junction where I'd come in from Maida Vale last time, and made the walk back over Bishops Bridge and into Eastbourne Terrace, pausing only to snap a picture of the Crossrail worksite beside Paddington station.

Despite the welcome and diverting walk, I still had a long wait until the customary train home. Amused myself with coffee, reading from my recent purchases and writing - trying to exorcise my predicament and the feeling that today hadn't gone too well. In fact, everything had run very much to time, and I'd had plenty of time to enjoy a variety of interesting spots. The problem today was me - too tied up in other things to think straight, and worrying about the next lot of trips and complications when I should be enjoying this one. I'll probably never learn...

It seemed like a long time since I'd been away from home, which is all the stranger given that I spent most of May and June zig-zagging across the country and setting up camp for weekends at a time in various spots. A few weeks of strangely introspective, mostly solo travels had been just the thing in some ways. There is such a lot of change in the air just now that these quiet missions to revisit far off places, sometimes in new ways, have become incredibly valuable, contemplative times for me. So, after a fitful night in a new hotel I found myself trudging the empty centre of Birmingham towards New Street at around 05:30. The hotel was fine - an improvement in fact, but my mind had been whirling around all night and I'd not really got to sleep for any stretch of time. Oddly, yesterday I'd leapt out of bed thinking it was today and I was late! Things are confusing just now it seems... Got to the station to find it almost completely empty. No hope of a coffee to wake me up, and as ever the lack of any advance warning of which platform the trip would use. This was a bigger problem today as no staff were in evidence either. Hedged my bets based on other departures, and spotted some familiar faces on Platform 3, so took a chance and thankfully got it right avoiding a last minute dash. Rewarded by the sound of 37610 thundering out of the tunnel, with 57003 already running on the back. Soon on board, meeting up with some very familiar Coach K faces and learning that 37611 hadn't even made the start of the tour, having failed at Carnforth on the empty stock move. Having spent a weekend in the Highlands with 37610 recently, rather disappointed not to have had 37611 - however, the performance put in by 57003 on the fairly straightforward run to Sheffield via the Old Road made up for this.

At Sheffield, we reversed and headed north via Moorthorpe and the complicated mess of lines around Wakefield, this took us over the Crofton to Hare Park section before using the curve between Calder Bridge Junction and Turners Lane Junction - a few chains of track I needed. Settled in for the run via Methley and Woodlesford, avoiding Leeds by way of the Whitehall Curve, completed accidentally on a previous similar trip. Discussion on board turned to the Settle-Carlisle route, and the fact that despite being one of the most famous journeys in the country, it was - well... a little bit boring! Having done the run already this year, I confess I wasn't too interested in the line - and it can be a tiresome slog when any chance of a picture is destroyed by 'normals' hanging out of the droplights for a view of Ribblehead Viaduct. However, the day was warming up outdoors and there was a steady supply of beer and conversation, so the trip passed pleasantly enough and rather swiftly in fact. Very soon we were arriving in Carlisle. A dash to get photographs followed, as due to a number of charters being in town our stock was to go to Kingmoor Depot.

Took advantage of a few hours break to wander into town and revisit some favourite spots. No pipe band this time, but while I enjoyed a coffee The Borders Brass Band struck up. Watched the busy town scenes whilst jotting some notes and thinking lazily about work and associated things. Realised I've become rather mentally lazy lately and not considered things too sensibly. Having put myself in some strange scrapes lately - which I'd normally avoid - it was good to take stock, and wander the city in the bright afternoon sun. Revisited the beer shop too and found that the proprietor had stocked up on brews from a few new local breweries too. Chatted for a while and pondered my choices carefully, tending to go for the lighter and hoppier summer ales for our trip home. Back to the station for a snack and another good coffee from the little van just inside the entrance, before joining the vast crowd of enthusiasts watching 6201 'Princess Elizabeth' manoeuvring to rejoin her train. There was a brief time that it seemed the loco wouldn't make the gradient from Upperby to the station - but slowly but surely the stock drew into the station. Around then a further charter arrived, having come from Kings Cross in the charge of 67024 and 67021. This stopped only briefly at Carlisle before returning south. Add a couple of passing freights, and there was something of a gala atmosphere on the platforms today.

Our stock soon arrived, with the predicted 66434 accompanying 66421 on the front. The loco, carrying the now defunct Fastline livery was a bit of a celebrity and caught the imagination of the photographers I noted as we headed east into the Tyne Valley. Again this is a slow route, but has it's pleasant points and is perhaps a route less travelled for me. Have often thought I should visit some of the communities along this line at some point, rather than flying through as I did again today. Noted we'd lost a bit of time, and a further check on the approach to Newcastle meant we crept in about a minute before we were due to depart. Thus the leg-stretch was cancelled (much to the amusing annoyance of one of the railtour scene's more persistent moaners!) meaning no chance of getting a daylight shot of 37259 and 37608 which were to haul us forward. As these were veterans of recent Cornwall and Scottish tours respectively, not too concerned by this. Soon off, and found myself chatting pleasantly in the vestibule with a couple of staff members as far as York. Here there was some confusion about the routing, which saw us fly through the station rather quickly rather than use the line behind the yard. The route from here was all a little uncertain, as news had reached us of a lineside fire at Swinton. Noted we were routed via the mainline to Doncaster, and thus watched the developing situation with interest.

Things all ran surprisingly efficiently from here, with us heading onto the line through Mexborough via the Goods curve, then using the 'old' line through Thrybergh Junction to avoid the closed section, then sitting briefly in Brightside Loop outside Sheffield to wait time before calling at the station. Here we were joined by another regular, doing a part fare back to Birmingham. Celebrated with further beer and had a very quick ride back with 37259 performing a little better after some attention during our stop at Brightside. Noted some inexplicable crossover activity at Chesterfield South and Clay Cross too, as we sped south towards home. Soon pulling into New Street, where the train was due to complete a final circle to regain the line to International without a reversal or run round. Headed back to my hotel, having had a strange and rather distracted day - but ultimately a sociable and pleasant one. Good to see a few more trips lined up too, and some from nearer home. However miserable I might sound sometimes, I'm never happier than when I'm travelling...

It had been a really odd week - a mess of stressful events and strangely incongruous interludes. Thus, I was really looking forward to today's escape. It started like many other trips - with the first train to Bristol and the 07:00 to Birmingham. The only complication this time was that the 07:00 wasn't sitting in the platform where I'd normally expect it to be when I arrived. I'd also noticed the unusual chap who sometimes competes for my chosen (and usually pre-booked I'd hasten to add!) seat hanging around the platform while we all waited as the clock ticked towards departure time. In fact, I don't think I'd be exaggerating to say he glowered at me as I stood there waiting. Eventually, the stock rolled into the platform in reverse formation. Since this fellow only likes that seat when it's facing the direction of travel, he stumbled on board muttering obscenities to himself and clenching his fists. I heard recently he'd been 'removed' from the West Somerset Railway for similar behaviour in fact. In any case, I was relieved not to have to start my day with confrontation, and settled into my seat in the quiet coach - only to find the door behind me was grinding along it's runners noisily, but the Catering Staff kindly locked it open for me. My peaceful start to the day assured, I dozed and listened to music as we dashed in and out of black clouds and bright sunshine alternately.

I had time for a coffee at New Street before heading down to the platforms, but with the stall short-staffed and the queue moving very slowly, I found an alternative place to sit and ended up downstairs earlier than planned. Strolled out into the sunshine and awaited the Holyhead train. This arrived as two units coupled, but would divide at Shrewsbury. Found my way to the front, so I didn't have to make any changes on route - though others didn't seem to pick up on this message straight away, which meant a mad dash to the front later. A fairly uneventful ride out via Wolverhampton and Telford, but somehow we managed to pick up a few minutes delay - not least perhaps because there was quite a crush in the front unit now. This intensified after Shrewsbury where the remainder of the passengers from the rear until squashed in too. Relatively healthy crowds at the intermediate stations of Ruabon, Chirk and Gobowen added to this - and by the time we made Wrexham General around five minutes down, I had to push and struggle to reach the doors. Noting the Wrexham and Shropshire train waiting at the opposite platform, I crossed over and took a picture whilst the staff prepared for departure. Marvelled at the refurbishment job done on the Mk.3 coaches, which - particularly in First Class - looked fantastic. Settled in comfortably for the long jaunt down to Marylebone.

My last jaunt on these services was hampered by late running and had to be cut short, so it was good to see things running smoothly today. The route initially retraced today's steps as far as Wolverhampton, picking up at some of the smaller stations on route, and then diverged at Crane Street Junction to take the line passing a surprisingly quiet Bescot Depot. Next, we turned east and headed for Stetchford where we joined the mainline once again, heading non-stop for Coventry and the Kenilworth line. Somewhere around here, lunch was served. I'd read a little about the catering on Wrexham and Shropshire, but wasn't quite prepared for this! Even the china cups, individual coffee pots and faultlessly polite staff hadn't signalled quite the quality we'd get. Two courses were free - with a third available for a small fee. Opted for two, taking a main and a dessert, both of which were well-prepared, generous and served with genuine attention to detail. Importantly, an endless supply of free coffee was included! As I sat, full of fine food and admiring the views over the Chilterns, I reflected that for a similar ticket price on First Great Western, I got a free cup of instant coffee and a biscuit. Whilst Wrexham and Shropshire offer a somewhat longer journey than might be possible by changing trains, the convenience of a direct service along with this kind of catering experience is bound to keep the trains filled.

By now we were entering the suburbs of London, and I started to think through the remainder of the day. With plenty of railway interest along this stretch of line I rarely use, I didn't even notice a bit of slow running resulting from an earlier bridge strike and the driver having to inspect the line as we edged over the structure. Arrival at Marylebone was also an interesting experience. It's not a station I've often used - and more often for leaving than arriving - so it was good to see the impressive and expanding station in fine shape and developing into a really important transport hub after its decline in the 1980s. Explored a bit before hitting the buses and heading up to Finchley Road and Frognal station - the plan was to pick up where last week went so horribly wrong, and to hunt down one of the new Class 172s working between Gospel Oak and Barking. The bus journey was interesting in itself - taking in Swiss Cottage, Lords and then a short stretch of Finchley Road before arriving at a nondescript overbridge which a huge orange 'London Overground' sign luckily visible from a distance. Descended with a minute or so before a train to Stratford was due. Perfect timing.

This was always going to be series of insect leaps, as the troubles of my last visit were still fresh in my mind and I didn't particularly want the hassle again. So, a couple of stops east to Gospel Oak first, and some disappointment as I noted an ex-Silverlink 150 in the bay platform. Decided to take this for a couple of stops, as this would pass an incoming unit and I'd see what else was working. So, waited in what had become very warm sunshine for departure, heading as far as Upper Holloway. A quick change of platforms, and noting a photographer waiting with camera ready, some hope that things would work out today. The train was around five late already, but by my calculations the usual move home would work provided there were no failures. Eventually, the raised lens of the photographer across the track signalled my attention and 172005 began to slow for the stop. Mission accomplished!

From my very brief hop back to Gospel Oak, the units seem fairly basic and clean. The seats are fairly basic and firm, and the air-conditioning appears to be set as aggressively as that in the 378s, which is fine for me but cold, I'd suspect for many. Soon back into Gospel Oak for a quick photograph - which always feels a little ill-advised and risky in London - and then time to wander over to the westbound platform for a train to Willesden. Things went well as far as Hampstead Heath, where we prepared to leave, the doors closed and we moved a matter of inches before they opened again. This continued for around ten minutes before the driver admitted he was having problems which he couldn't easily fix. Some quick investigation indicated a possible bus route, so dashed out of the station, heading the opposite way from previous trips to Parliament Hill, and found myself in a pleasant little urban oasis of shops and green space. It occurred to me I'd made probably hundreds of journeys through the cuttings and tunnels around here and barely surfaced at many of the stations at all. Found the stop for the No.46, and waited for what seemed like ages for one to turn up. A quiet single decker was soon full to bursting with refugees from the stricken train. The route went uphill and northwards, into Hampstead, then turned south and briefly retraced my earlier steps along Finchley Road and around Swiss Cottage, before diving west into Maida Vale. Rather suddenly, spotted the Grand Union Canal beside us and realised I was approaching 'Little Venice' from an unfamiliar angle. The curve of the roof spans of Paddington could be seen, and a quick swing under the Westway and over Bishops Bridge brought me into Eastbourne Terrace.

Once again, a failure on the Overground had caused a tricky situation, but this time - fending only for myself and with a little time on my side, I'd made it back in good time. Shopped a little, had a coffee and boarded the train back home. It had been a long, varied and relaxing day which had seen me right a couple of wrongs - doing a Wrexham and Shropshire service for the full length of the route, and getting a brief ride on the new Class 172 units. As I plough into another week of uncertainty and mixed messages, it's days like this which keep things ticking over.