Eastern Counties

After a flurry of activity at the start of the year, things have gone a bit quiet lately. In this lull which leads up to a busy period around Easter, I've taken to making trips which don't really gain much in the way of new ground but go back to the roots of my travelling - getting to places I've never visited and collecting impressions of the country I live in. Now, I've clearly managed to visit lots of places over the years, but in many cases I've not wandered far beyond the immediate limits of the station. As my track-bashing obsession has increased, this has particularly been the case and in recent years unless I've been staying somewhere for the start of a tour I've seen little of the towns I visit. As I tried to book tickets for these weekends I realised I'd never visited Leicester. In fairness I'd never needed to, but it felt like an omission I should correct.

The other plan for these trips is to aim for some pleasantly long, relaxing rail journeys to contrast with the fragmented, frustrating weeks I'm dealing with at the office. So, after a quick hop to Weston I found myself on the familiar 06:24 to Paddington. With a fair amount of time at the other end to cross to St.Pancras, I felt relaxed and free of pressure as we sped through a misty morning. I'd slept really badly the night before, and knowing I'd be up early for a Rally in Wales tomorrow, knew I'd have fairly little hope of a decent sleep tonight either, so I stretched out and relaxed. On getting to London, I made a slow progress via coffee and buses to St.Pancras, lingering in a favourite spot before heading for the train. Quite without meaning too I'd booked on one of the now seemingly fewer East Midlands HST services, and it was good to have a spin in First Class on these trains from a company I rarely get to use. The run up the Midland Mainline went remarkably quickly, and with a little weak sun shining through the mist it was a fine journey. I arrived in Leicester to find that the station refurbishment I'd read about was in full swing. The fine brick entrance was mostly cordoned off with the stairs leading up to it removed - I'm sure that's a recent change but couldn't quite remember. Access was via the modern footbridge which connected into the tiled arrivals and departures hall, which despite being adorned with modern ticket gates and information screens, had a busy 'proper station' feel about it.

After negotiating the diversions through the boarded walkways out of the station I got my first glimpse of Leicester in the outside of the station building. I'd seen this from trains passing under the road bridge, and it remained an impressive, low brick sweep. Turning towards town, I noted a very new Premier Inn which might conceivably be useful in the future. This area had obviously seen a fair deal of regeneration, and had a clean busy feel. Crossing and wandering into Granby Street the limits of the scheme were soon reached. This slightly shabby but appealingly open street runs directly into the city, and is home to some fairly impressive victorian buildings. As ever, eyes raised above the (often abandoned) shop fronts are rewarded with little towers, detailed brickwork and remarkably complicated designs which would never grace a utilitarian commercial building nowadays. Finally, after a detour into the market and a small record shop still struggling on, I found the city centre. A sprawling pedestrianised zone with a couple of modern shopping developments. People ploughed relentlessly along this retail river, from one centre to the other. They didn't look where they were going, and despite the not inconsiderably obstacle I presented, didn't seem to see me.

Dipping into a side street to regain my route home, I found myself passing groups of young but decrepit looking drunks. I'm not sure why they'd congregated here, but they lolled weirdly in a little seated area not feet from a busy street where prosperous folk bustled by. Hurrying on, I regained the route to the station passing a band of orange-robed Hare Krisna folk singing and drumming loudly. Leicester is a strange place - a mix of old and new, rich and poor - but with very little middle ground it seems.

My route home, in slightly improved but rather chilly weather involved a detour to a very windy Derby station, then a dwell at Birmingham where I enjoyed coffee and a bit of ethnography, as I watched one of the strange gatherings of emo kids which seem to descend on railway stations on Saturday afternoons. In comparison to Glasgow Central or Manchester Victoria, this was a small and rather less committed bunch - but the hugging and preening was still evident, and the collection of fringe misfits who gravitated around them seemed to be genuinely decent kids. Amused, and somewhat pleased to see this strangely British subculture, I headed for my sleepy train home. Sometimes I feel like David Attenborough out here on the railway.