Another Day: 2013

For the want of something to do, other than housework, I decided to take a trip out somewhere.

The sun was shining-which made a pleasant change from all the rain that had fallen over the previous few days and I just felt like a trip out somewhere.

I decided that looking around Nottingham would be a pleasant way to waste a few hours-so that was it.

Ho for Nottingham!

The journey, by train, to Nottingham was uneventful, other than it was just a bit faster than what I remember of previous excursions.

The power-that-be had finally got around to implementing some of the much-needed improvements to the railway infrastructure in the Nottingham area.

All of these " improvements " are being made in connection with the implementation of a " Grand Plan " to enhance the area's Public Transport system.

In " Marketing-Speak ", the whole shooting-match has been given the title of " The Nottingham Hub Project "-which is nice-I suppose.

The consequence of all the time spent on these upgrades has, so far, resulted in the creation of an extra platform at Nottingham railway station.
This was achieved, not by expanding the area of the rail infrastructure but by " dead-ending " on of the through platforms.
This effectively resulted in turning one of the " through lines " that are used mainly by freight trains and also for " light engine/empty stock " movements into an extra platform road.

All very ingenious.

Also noticeable is the presence of a metal viaduct that spans the whole station area.
This viaduct will carry the trams from Nottingham City centre out towards the area of Trent Bridge...and beyond, over the river.

Mind you, it is really just a case of " history repeating itself ".

So perhaps some background information may be useful.

This came about because, in the wild and heady days of the Nineteenth Century a group of businessmen from the Liverpool, Manchester and Sheffield areas devised a scheme to build a railway line to London and beyond.

With the building of this line, it was believed, that they would be able to break the stranglehold imposed on their businesses by the railways that were already operating.

And so the line was built.

Also, the businessmen involved also changed the name of their own railway company from the parochial-sounding " Manchester, Sheffield and Lincolnshire Railway " to the much grander
" Great Central Railway ".

When the line got as far south as Nottingham; which was just a County town at the time, they had to build a tunnel under the hill that most of Nottingham sits upon.

It was here that they planned and built a large station that comprised of some 14 platforms

It was originally to be called Nottingham Central, but in deference to the fact that Her Majesty Queen Victoria, was celebrating some sort of Jubilee at the time ( Diamond, I think ), they gave the station the much grander title of Nottingham Victoria.

I think that the reason they initially chose the title of " Central " had little to do with the planned name of the nascent company but rather that the station was located in the centre of the town.

They built it in conjunction with another railway company, the Great Northern Railway.
This company, like the businessmen concerned with the Manchester, Sheffield and Lincolnshire Railway sought to break the virtual monopoly that the other bigger companies had on the business of transport goods and passengers.

The other railway station that served the town was located in the area just outside of the settlement, in an area to the south called Broadmarsh.

This station was, at the time of the building of Victoria, operated by the Midland Railway and was located; unsurprisingly, on Station Road.

Now, the route south from the site of Victoria station entailed the building of another tunnel.

This came out on the escarpment on which Nottingham had been built at a place called Weekday Cross.

From here it continued, on a viaduct, across the area known as Broadmarsh and on across the whole floodplain of the River Trent.

As it journeyed south it passed close by the Western end of the Midland Railway station.
( about one hundred yards in distance )

For some reason The Midland Railway reacted to the arrival of a competitor's line by relocating the buildings of THEIR station from off of Station Street to a position just west of the new viaduct on Carrington Street.

This involved them building a bridge OVER their own track on which they had built for them, a grandiose portico that was designed by the same architect that had designed the station buildings of Nottingham Victoria.

Such seemingly petty-minded posturing that the Midland Railway performed didn't really concern the owners of the new railway.

This was because their plans involved not just getting to London-but going on to build a tunnel under the English Channel and from there to Paris and the Continent of Europe!

Back to my wandering around Nottingham.

After looking around-and purchasing some CD's and a DVD, I headed back to the railway station and got on the train to come home.
It was about half-full and this made for a pleasant journey home-even after it picked up a fair few passengers at Mansfield and Shirebrook.

Getting off of the train at Creswell I noticed a commotion by the platform exit.

What was happening was that some painfully thin lad of about fifteen years of age who was stood by the P.I.S. monitor stand was taking down the numbers of the individual units that made up the train.
He was train-spotting...a harmless exercise that harms no-one and passes the time in a more-or-less constructive way.
I used to do it when I was just entering my teen years.

Anyway, back to this lad on the platform.
One of the gaggle of women who had just got off the train stopped, looked at the lad and announced to the world at large that she had seen a train-spotter.
It was not just a run-of-the-mill type of train-spotter that she had seen but this one was special-this was a special one, " a fuckin' twat- a fucking geek wot ort to get a fuckin' life-or else go kill themselves for being a waste of space and a benefit scrounger!"

This woman was fat, had a face that had so much make-up on it that looked as though it had been applied with a brickie's trowel. And she was dressed in Primark's finest.

She was a gobby slut.

You may well imagine as to how this must have left the poor lad feeling.

I didn't approach him, choosing rather to watch him from a distance just to make sure that he didn't do anything rash.
I watched him pack his bag and with great dignity and a quivering lower lip he made his stately progress down Gypsy Lane and onto Elmton Road.
I lost sight of him as he passed under the railway bridge.
This incident, which is a sad indictment of how we all live our lives has affected me in a manner that I find disturbing