Well, the mystery of how the travel gods appeared so generous to me a couple of weeks back has been solved. They were storing up their curses for my trip home.
Having checked train times on the web, I got a taxi from halls to Manchester Oxford Road at half ten; the train was due around a quarter past eleven. As I was getting out of the taxi, after paying the driver, I realised that I'd left my passport behind.
We pelted back and I ran in to get the neglected document, briefly explaining what had happened to Les, Eddie, and Hannah. Then back to Oxford Road as fast as possible. I paid the driver and strode towards the brightly lit station, impressed that it was only a couple of minutes past eleven.
The station doors were locked.
I rushed back to the street and hailed another cab, which took my to Manchester Piccadilly. The driver had no idea why the station might have been closed. After paying him I grabbed my stuff and trudged into Piccadilly Station, only to find that the strike which I had thought was over was still on, and that the next train to Holyhead was at 5:23 in the morning. I sadly set off back to halls.
Back at base I decided I'd better check online to see were any other problems likely. Indeed they were: owing to bad weather the Irish Ferries fast services were cancelled. That meant that the only hope for getting back at a reasonable time was with Stena, who I don't like. It also meant I needed to be in Holyhead by 8:25, half an hour before the ship sailed. This was bound to be tricky, since the train wasn't due to arrive in Holyhead till 8:23.
I didn't sleep.
At half four I left halls and said goodbye to Les on reception for the third time in six hours. A few minutes later I paid for my fourth taxi journey in as long. I slowly dragged myself into the almost desolate emptiness of Piccadilly Station; The Twelve Days of Christmas was being piped noisily throughout the station, which I found rather disturbing. A minor miracle took place, as the 5:23 Virgin train left as scheduled, and indeed arrived in Crewe as scheduled.
In Crewe I made my way over to Platform 12 to get the 6:23 train for Holyhead. I sat and dozed for a bit, leaning against my rucksack, clutching the bag which held my laptop. At 6:15 I roused myself, and noticed that I was the only one on the platform. Even at that time of the morning this was odd, and I went up to the departures screen to see was there anything wrong. Indeed there was. The train had been cancelled.
The next best bet seemed to be the 6:33 to Chester, so I sadly hauled myself over to platform 6. There I found a cluster of angry people, all desperate to get home to Ireland. One couple had come from Manchester, like me, but had a long journey ahead of them when they reached Dublin; they were to go to Derry. The guy working at the station really didn't know what to do, but just kept telling them to go to Chester, since he couldn't do anything in Crewe. He seemed to be just palming us off, but what choice did we have. Bitterly bemused we boarded the train. Sarcastic comments met the inspector's request to check our tickets.
Amazingly in Chester there was a train for Holyhead. I think this was a desperately arranged replacement service, since it certainly didn't appear on any timetables. It reached Holyhead at 8:38, and once there I stumbled as fast as I could into the Ferry terminal, hoping that I could somehow board the boat. Thank God for small miracles; the boat was being held up because of the train delays and because Stena had decided to let the otherwise stranded Irish Ferries passengers on board.
So I finally, slowly, made my way along the gangway to the boat, where I found a vacant stretch of couch and lay down. Even if I hadn't been so drained that would have been the only thing to do. The boat was going to take a wide detour, in order to avoid the worst of the weather on the Irish Sea, but even so, it was going to be very rough. The boat began lurching the moment it moved out of harbour, but I soon drifted off.
Just before eleven I arrived in Dun Laoghaire, and my Dad soon came along to pick me up. Home then for some food, up to the Granite to arrange a spot of work tomorrow and Thursday, and then into town to do some shopping.
I think I'll sleep well tonight.
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