A tale of two trains

The year I was 16, I made my first trip to London to visit my sister and brother-in-law.

It would be my very first real holiday as an adult and I was travelling alone. At the time, the regular train journey from Aberdeen to London took about 10 hours. The fare was quite expensive at the time, but once a year during the Aberdeen Trades Holiday week, a cheap excursion fare was available.

British Rail called this annual run The Starlight Special. It may have had a romantic name but it also had a major drawbackit stopped at almost every train station between Aberdeen and London. As a result, the journey took twice as long as the normal run.

Imagine sitting upright in a train carriage for 20 hours. There was no opportunity to lie down as every seat was filled on that long, very slow journey. Because it was an excursion train, there were no sleeping berths; although if they had been available, my mother would have considered their use an unnecessary expense.

Even if I did manage to nap, Id be rudely awakened by the conductor shouting out the name of the upcoming station or by the squeal of brakes as the train came to a grinding halt. The first time this happened, I was delighted, thinking there would be more room when passengers left. I soon discovered this wasnt the case; when one set of passengers left, even more seemed to get on the train.

Woe betide the person who happened to have an aisle seat. Passengers seemed to have only two thoughts in their minds. They were either in a rush to get off the train or to find a seat. In their rush, they didnt seem to care if their luggage hit someones head or other parts of their body.

Finally arriving in London made the long, uncomfortable journey worthwhile. My sister and brotherin-law knew every inch of the capital city and were determined I would see every interesting place London had to offer. We went to historic sites including Buckingham Palace, the Tower of London, and the Houses of Parliament. For added enjoyment they brought me to Battersea Park fun fair, Madame Tussauds Wax Museum, Hyde Parks Speakers Corner, and to Piccadilly Circus to feed the pigeons.

It was a wonderful holiday, but it was over far too soon and it was time to face the return journey. My sister and brother-in-law were travelling the same day to begin their annual holiday in Aberdeen. However, they were going by regular train, which left several hours after mine.

My sister prepared a great lunch so I wouldnt be hungry on the journey. It included a stack of tomato sandwichesmy favourite kind. She also offered to make egg or meat sandwiches, but I only wanted tomato.

Several hours later and feeling quite hungry, I decided it was time to eat my sandwiches. The seating arrangement of four people in a small booth with a table between us, didnt give any of us much privacy. I was fortunate enough to share my booth with a friendly young couple and their small daughter, who seeing me rummaging for my food, decided they would also eat.

Eagerly anticipating my sandwiches, I was shocked to find they had literally disintegrated. The juicy tomatoes had soaked through the bread and, as I tried to lift them up, the sandwiches fell in pieces. To my embarrassment, bits of soggy bread and tomatoes landed on my lap and the floor.

As I gathered them up, I thought at least I still have biscuits and a thermos of tea. But somehow, in the rush of getting ready, I had left the biscuits behind. I still had about 16 hours of travel left and with no canteen service on the train, I wondered how I would survive until I got home.

Luckily for me, my neighbours had plenty of food and insisted on sharing with me. When they left the train in Edinburgh, a few hours before my arrival in Aberdeen, they also gave me the food they had left. Thanks to these good Samaritans, I didnt go hungry.

Arriving in Aberdeen about noon the next day, I was met by my sister who had departed London several hours behind me. She and my brother-in-law were home in time for breakfast and still had hours to spare before meeting me.

At home, I told the tale of the overcrowded train and the sandwiches I couldnt eat. I vowed Id never again ride on the Starlight Special. In later years, I made many journeys by rail to and from England, but I always made sure it wasnt an excursion train.

The Newfie Bullet

Ten years later, I was married with three children and living in Bonavista, when my sister made her first ever visit to Newfoundland.

The Newfoundland highway system at the time was far from perfect. Although huge signs proclaiming Well finish the drive in 65 were placed along the Trans Canada Highway, there were still some pretty rough areas, while most local roads were unpaved. The state of the roads, as we travelled to Gander airport to meet my sister, resulted in us getting several flat tires,

It was a bad start to her holiday as I had to phone a friend in Gander, who had never met my sister, to go and meet her at the airport. On our return journey, I could see my sister was less than impressed with our roads.

Her holiday with my family passed and her next stop was St. Johns, to visit my brother. I was also going and made plans to travel by taxi to Clarenville, where we would then catch the train. My sister who had painfully experienced the bumps and potholes of local roads, was a bit dubious about the train journey; however I assured her the Newfie Bullet had an excellent reputation.

We left at night by taxi for Clarenville and I swear the driverwho informed us his shocks needed replacementhit every pothole on the unpaved road. By the time we reached the train station, my sister and I were both green from the constant bouncing of the taxi.

When our taxi driver opened the trunk to remove our luggage, we discovered his car needed more than shocks. If there was ever a seal on his trunk, it was evident it was long gone by then. My sisters beautiful set of matching luggage had turned white from road dust that seeped into the trunk. To say she was upset, was putting it mildly,

It definitely wasnt a good way to begin our train journey, but by the time the train arrived, my sister had calmed down and was looking forward to the trip to St. Johns. That lasted until we boarded and saw the train was packed, with only a few seats available. Fortunately, we managed to get seats together opposite a young teenage girl and her brother.

Every other seat in the carriage was packed with men and it was evident from their loud talk and high spirits that a few of them had been celebrating.

Some of them are drunk, said my horrified sister, who wondered out loud, why they were allowed to travel by public transportation in an alcoholic state.

Things got progressively worse when one of the men across the aisle from us, got really obnoxious. He tried to draw us into conversation and generally made a nuisance of himself. When this didnt work, be began tormenting our young seatmates, who were on their way to a church camp, to sing hymns.

Fed up with his behavior, I told him off. That left my sister even more upset in case he might retaliate in some way. My words must have worked because he stopped talking and later went to sleep. However, there was no sleep for my sister who remained tense throughout the entire journey, wondering what might happen next.

Im sure no one was happier than her when we finally arrived in St. Johns.

Never again, she said. Thats one journey I will never repeat

Trying to laugh it off, I reminded her of my trip on the Starlight Special from Aberdeen to London and how I had said almost the exact same words. However, to this day, my sister believes that journey had to be a treat compared to her Newfie Bullet nightmare.