chrishansenhome: (Default)
I came across a website devoted to train travel in Singapore, Malaysia, and Thailand. Near the end of a very long web page there is a section marked "London to Singapore overland".
  • London to Moscow by train

  • Moscow to Beijing by Trans-Siberian Railway

  • Beijing to Hanoi by train

  • Hanoi to Saigon by train

  • Saigon-Phnom Penh by bus

  • Phnom Penh-Battambang by train or bus, bus to frontier, train to Bangkok

  • Bangkok to Singapore by train
To do this would take several thousand pounds and 3-1/2 weeks (at least). But, I want! This sounds like the most fantastic trip imaginable.

Alas, it's unlikely I will ever be able to do this. However, the trip of a lifetime would be fantastic. Do go to the website if you're a train or transport buff.
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In most cities, you'll be lucky to see a car illegally parked with a ticket on it. In Vilnius, Lithuania, the Mayor has decided that more drastic action is necessary to curb illegal parking.

chrishansenhome: (Default)
My friend Joel (not a meatspace friend, but an online friend through our shared admiration for Jean Shepherd) was one of the "Mad Men" who made advertising interesting up until the pre-lunch Martini was banned. Being a train buff, I was stunned to discover that his prodding got Amtrak to provide the Metroliner from New York to Washington in 2 hours and 59 civilised minutes. His blog is well worth a trawl, by the way.

Thanks, Joel!
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I always read the Family section of the Saturday Grauniad, but I don't know why, as it's mostly about children. I always get something out of it, though. This week's section's feature story is of three couples who met on trains. You might think this is a bit dull, but, believe me, the stories are heartwarming at a time when hearts need to be warmed.
chrishansenhome: (London Stabbie)
Stabbie thought that today would be a good day to go to Waitrose at Westfield to pick up some stuff for dinner. In, out, maybe have lunch, then back on the 148.

Everything went well until Stabbie got a 148 bus toward the Elephant and Castle at Westfield. The driver did not speak very good English (Stabbie thought he might be Italian) and the announcements on the bus were confined to the mechanical voice announcing the stops. Stabbie settled down for a long but uneventful ride.


At Notting Hill Gate, the bus suddenly took a right turn, without any announcement of a diversion. Stabbie got a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, but decided to continue on, as he thought, "How bad can it be?"

When the bus got to Kensington Church Street, then turned onto Kensington Road, it just stopped. It lurched, stopped, and started, and stopped again. It took this bus about an hour to travel from Kensington Church Street to Knightsbridge. Thus trip would normally take about 10 minutes. The traffic was dreadful. At one point, the bus stopped and the driver tried to explain to his dispatcher that there was, besides the traffic problems, something wrong with the bus. No luck. The bus soldiered on.

Stabbie has a bad foot, so he tried to get off at Knightsbridge. Other passengers had deserted the bus previously, but they were all sure-footed; Stabbie thought it would be better to wait until Knightsbridge and get off there to take the Tube back to the Elephant and Castle.

The bus driver explained, in broken English, that it was too dangerous to get off the bus there (notwithstanding that he had let people off in places where motorcycles and bicyclists were whooshing by the left-hand side of the bus) and Stabbie would have to wait until Hyde Park Corner to get off. That took an extra 15 minutes.

Finally the bus pulled up at Hyde Park Corner, Stabbie rang the bell, got off, and took a Tube train to Piccadilly Circus, changing for the Bakerloo Line, and getting back to Stabbie Central at 17:15. He had set off around 14:30.

Now Stabbie normally is very polite to bus drivers. They take a lot of abuse from the public, mostly unwarranted. But Stabbie believes that this particular bus driver is an exception. Stabbie likes to be told when the bus is going to be diverted from its normal route. Stabbie would like the opportunity to decide whether to stay with the bus or get off and take another route. Stabbie thinks that bus and train drivers need to give as much information as possible to passengers when traffic is not proceeding as usual.

Thus, Stabbie thinks that this particular bus driver needs a lesson—and the best way to get that is to despatch him forthwith and then deny him directions to St. Peter's Gate. Instead, he needs to be left at one of those crossroads where both signposts say "This way to the Pearly Gates" and let him figure out that both roads lead downwards.
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It's not been a quiet week at the Elephant and Castle, except for Monday.

Tuesday Goliath had our Lodge of Instruction. Something that Freemasons have to do regularly is rehearse the ritual. In most Masonic jurisdictions the ritual must be memorised. One particular ceremony can take up to an hour, and may be conducted by one man. So, rehearsal is serious stuff indeed. My friend Nadeem, whom I nominated for the Lodge, picks me up at Northwick Park station on the Metropolitan line and we go to Harrow Masonic Centre and have a beverage in the bar while waiting for the meeting to start. The meeting was very emo as there was a bit of a dispute about some parts of the ritual. I thus proposed to make a leaflet detailing the differences between our Goliath ritual and the standard Taylor's Working. This I did, and we'll be publishing it in May after I assume the Mastership of the Lodge. Only problem was: Microsoft Publisher. The final leaflet came to 19 pages plus one blank page, and no matter what I did, I couldn't get page 18 to flow onto page 19. Whoever invented Microsoft Publisher needs to be corrected somehow. I suggest the cat o' nine tails, myself.

Wednesday was my swine flu vaccination. The good thing is that it was free. The bad thing was that the nurse was running 1/2 hour behind. I know that I shouldn't complain, but if I were 1/2 hour late for an appointment I'd get hell in a handbasket. My right arm ached for a couple of days afterward, and I had a very deep hypo on Thursday which I can't explain with what I was eating or the amount of insulin I was taking. I wonder whether the inoculation did something.

HWMBO was off Wednesday through Friday so on Wednesday afternoon we went to the Turner and the Masters exhibition at Tate Britain on Millbank. It closed today (Sunday January 31) so we thought we'd better go see it. Well, as it was the afternoon and a weekday we thought we'd have an easy time of it, but the exhibition was stuffed. Lots of people who wait until the end of an exhibition to see it were there, and many were elderly and had canes, just like me (I was using mine as my back was killing me…see Thursday for more informaiton on that). I felt that while it was slightly interesting, the Tate often has Turner exhibitions because it has most of the Turners that are extant, as Turner left most of his paintings that he had at his death to the nation and the nation gave most of them to the Tate. As it was kind of a comparison between Turner and other artists, if you weren't paying attention in Art History class (and I wasn't) much of the exhibition was not very illuminating.

Thursday I went to the Foot Clinic at Kings to be fitted for orthopedic shoes and insoles. I have been waiting for this for years (but didn't get on the official waiting list until December). The assessor (fancy name for the shoe fitter) was very nice, perhaps batting for Our Team, and sharing my first name as well. While he was measuring my feet for the shoes, he asked me how my back was faring because of the pressure boot—I told him that my back was killing me. Every time I got up from sitting on the bed while wearing the boot my back felt like someone had stabbed me in the kidney. He said, "Wait a minute!" and took my shoe (not the boot!) away. A minute later he returned with a device that raised the boot by about an inch. This instantly fixed my back problem and my gait is now normal, as both shoes are on a level. I was as delighted as a young kid on Christmas morning who got all the presents he asked for and no coal in his stocking. While measuring he rolled my trouserleg up and said, "It's like the Masons." and I replied, "Funny you should say that; I'm a Freemason." and we discussed that for a while. I shall bring a brochure when I take delivery of the shoes. They're black wingtips with laces.

Thursday night we went out with our friends Ard, Leslie, Eddie, and Christina to Belgo at Covent Garden. HWMBO tried a couple of Belgian beera, but I stuck to Diet Coke. The wait staff were all dressed in monk's robes, for some odd reason…perhaps because a lot of Belgian beer is brewed by monks. Lots of mussels were consumed (not by me), and I had a steak and frites, which were excellent. Then off for dessert. We walked from Belgo to Old Compton Street and Chinatown, and finally ended up at C&R Café and Restaurant for "dessert. As they have a £6 minimum per person, HWMBO and Leslie ordered some other stuff. The reviews are mixed, but we enjoyed what we had. I had an iced Milo and a sago pudding as dessert. One of the side dishes that Leslie ordered was a kind of meat loaf phyllo pastry spring roll…this was fantastic and I want to go back and have more.

Friday I returned to the Foot Clinic for the last appointment under the study I've been in. Well, I got in there and when the podiatrist came in I showed him the new device on my shoe and said, "Why didn't I get one of these when you gave me the boot?" He looked at the nurse and said, "I didn't know we had any in stock." The ulcer is still there, but much smaller. However, now that I'm out of the study I do not get free supplies from the clinic; I have to have them prescribed by my GP. That's a pain. Oh well, they are cautiously optimistic about it and I go back for a regular appointment in two weeks.

After the appointment I had to wait in the waiting area for a prescription. The usual doctor, Prof. Edmonds, wasn't there on Friday so I waited for 1/2 hour while they scraped up a doctor. Then the nurse came up to me with the prescription and said, "We forgot to do something for your last appointment." and I had to come back, take my boot and shoe off, and have her test the bottoms of my feet for feeling (I don't have any). The podiatrist just laughed and said to her, "I told you that we could just fill it in ourselves." but no dice. I was seriously late for lunch at the Drop-In.

Saturday morning I received something I'd bought from eBay in the US. Coffee connoiseurs among you will sneer at me, but I am now the proud possessor of a 6-cup Pyrex coffee percolator.

Now I realise that perked coffee tastes burnt and isn't the best quality according to coffee mavens. However, I have memories of my childhood, when we had instant coffee most of the time, but when company came my mother hiked out the Pyrex percolator and made REAL coffee, as opposed to instant. Now neither my brother nor my sister drinks coffee nowadays, but I'm seriously addicted. And when I fire up the percolator on Monday afternoon and have a cup of real perked coffee, I guarantee that I will be transported back to my childhood and I'll hear my mother say to me, while she poured me a cup of real perked coffee, "You really shouldn't be drinking this stuff; it'll stunt your growth." Would that it had.

Saturday afternoon we went to the Serpentine gallery via the 360 bus. This is a really great way for us to get to Museum Alley near South Kensington. No muss, no fuss, and a one-seat ride. Very convenient. I enjoy this bus route, which goes by the Imperial War Museum, through a housing estate and up to Albert Embankment, swings by the Vauxhall Bus Station and my gym, then crosses Vauxhall Bridge next to MI6 HQ. Then through Mayfair and along the river to the Royal Chelsea Hospital, the home of the Chelsea Pensioners. then down the road to Sloane Square and past Peter Jones, the quite posh store in the John Lewis family of shops which includes Waitrose. Then past the Conran Shop, with lots of merchandise we can't afford and the Michelin Building toward South Kensington Tube Station and the various museums in the area such as the Natural History Museum, the Science Museum, and the Royal Geographical Society next to Imperial College London, ending up in front of the Royal Albert Hall and the Albert Memorial, certainly one of the most garish and curious memorials to a lost love ever erected.

Pictures behind a cut of some of the sights along the 360 bus route )

On the way to the Serpentine we stopped in the Gents' just beyond the Albert Memorial and interrupted what was probably a bit of the old slap and tickle between two guys at the urinals.

The Serpentine Gallery had an exhibition of modern design that was interesting; it including such things as the OLPC laptop and the bumper of a Lamborghini.

There was an area in the central gallery with Kindles, TV screens, and various displays. All the Kindles were occupied, and we didn't fancy waiting around. So back home to coffee and then dinner with our friend Mark at the Indian restaurant at the Elephant and Castle Shopping Centre. Mark was ogling the waiters, who were all Bangladeshi and very good-looking, especially Aziz.

This morning we had church as usual: it was the observance of Candlemas, and the major attraction of Candlemas is that I can put the candelabra away until Easter. The candles drip on the carpet and are a real nuisance: I refer to them as "the forest fire".

So that was my week.
chrishansenhome: (Default)
In the middle future, when returning to San Diego, you may encounter a new experience.
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It's very rare that tourists attempt to travel to North Korea. When they do get there, most find it rather sterile and uninviting. But, it really depends on how you got there. This tale of two rail enthusiasts who blogged as they traveled across Russia and then, with the proper visas and permissions, continued on to Pyongyang, is really riveting, even if you're not a rail enthusiast. The pictures, some taken surreptitiously, are quite interesting. Read all the way through to the end.
chrishansenhome: (Default)
As those of you who read my LoudTwitter LJ posts will know, I've been commuting to Nuneaton/Hinckley for the past three weeks for my job. I'm doing some release management and quality assessment work for a large utility. Interesting stuff, but it does leave me pretty exhausted at the end of the day. I am getting behind in my email reading, my LiveJournal reading, and in my life in general.

I have, however, discovered the value of Twitter in keeping a record of what's happening in slices of 140 characters or less. This is quite useful, and I am becoming more enamoured of it the longer I remain in Nuneaton.

The highlight (or lowlight) of this week was yesterday, when my taxi driver failed to show up at the site to take me to Nuneaton Station in time for the 4:35 train to London. I called Sandeep (we are on a first-name basis now) and he told me that he had asked a friend of his to pick me up in his place because he needed to take his family somewhere. The friend had gone to another site in Hinckley, TNT (the delivery people), and picked up someone else for the train station. Sandeep had sent someone else to TNT, and he returned empty-taxied because the other driver had picked up the fare that he was meant to pick up.

Sandeep was in his family car with his family, and turned around and came to Hinckley and picked me up, with wife and son in the back seat, and took me to Nuneaton, not in time for the 4:35 train but what could one do? I thanked him profusely and didn't become depressed or annoyed about it, as there was nothing that could be done. This is good for me, as I tend to become nervous and grumpy when transport doesn't work out well. I think it's the beta-blocker, which makes me more mellow, on the whole.

So I went into the coffee shop at Nuneaton, bought a few train-related magazines and a mug of coffee, and whiled away some pleasant time reading about American trains. Got the 5:35 train, which stopped at Rugby and Milton Keynes, and got home around 7:30 pm.

I hope that things will be much more pleasant next week.
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but not an OLPFRSC entry. An interesting graphic of the Toronto subway system.
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Train Collides With Pickup Truck In Sedalia
Pickup Driver Killed In Collision

June 20, 2008

SEDALIA, Mo. -- An Amtrak train collided with a pickup truck Thursday afternoon in Sedalia, killing the driver of the pickup truck. Witnesses said the pickup pulled into the train's path.

"There was, like, a big jolt. And then we slowed down really fast," one passenger said.

"I was actually asleep when it went off. I didn't know what happened. I woke up, and everyone was freaking out," another passenger said.

The pickup was hit broadside.

"We all looked back, and there was no vehicle behind us. It was still stuck to the front of the train," Amtrak passenger Darda Jinx told KMBC's Martin Augustine.

The driver was identified as Steve Hemme, 45. Hemme's brother told KMBC that he hated to be late for work.

"He was coming back from lunch, and he tried to beat the train. I guess the train got him," Hemme's brother said.

An Amtrak spokesman said the train was on its way from St. Louis to Kansas City. More than 100 passengers were on board. No one on the train was hurt.

The train suffered minor damage in the collision.

Amtrak said that after a mechanical inspection, the train continued on and arrived in Kansas City three hours late.

Note the section in red. I guess that day, and every day to come, he'll be very very late.

And not only to work.

Those of you who drive, watch the signs and lights and gates around railroad tracks. If the lights are flashing, or the gates are coming down, don't try to beat them, or you too might be very very late.
chrishansenhome: (Default)
...will be of interest to a certain ailuropod in Toronto. Watch it to the end, now!
chrishansenhome: (Default)
It started out like all my workdays...I bought my newspaper and walked to Waterloo to take the Jubilee Line. Nothing unusual. However, when I got in the queue for the front door, I noticed a short pudgy guy next to me. Obviously, he was someone who didn't realise the unspoken rule that, at these Jubilee Line stations (the ones with doors) you get into a queue, one at each side of the door, to wait patiently for the train.

The train arrived, and we politely let the passengers off, as we are constantly being reminded to do. Then we began to file onto the train. There was some kind of holdup in front of us, and the woman in front of me stopped. I stopped too, and suddenly I was violently shoved from behind, and the short pudgy man, who was doing the shoving, said, rather loudly: "Come on, don't stop, get on the train!" I gave him a look, put my hand out, and shoved him right back on the platform. I was hoping that the train doors would close, but unfortunately, they didn't. He then got on behind me. The rest of the journey was very tense; he seemed to think that he'd "won", but shouting loudly at a stranger in the Underground is Just Not Done.

I have since thought about a few ripostes, among which the best (IMHO) is "Well, I see that you're quite eager to get into work to continue embezzling from your employer while your wife is cheating on you." Unfortunately, I didn't think of that one until I had nearly gotten to the building in which I toil for my crust.
chrishansenhome: (Default)
I left work at 4:30 pm, intending to go to London Bridge and get some exercise by walking home from there. Got down into Canary Wharf Jubilee Line station, and there was a totally packed train standing there. Uh oh. It closed up and left, and I waited for the next train. Mind you, the display on the outside of the station said that we should be careful of slipping on the floor since it was wet. It didn't say anything about delays. Well, there was a signal failure at Finchley Road, about 10 stations away, and it basically closed down the entire line. After sitting on the train for a while, I decided to get off and go to the Docklands Light Railway and go to Bank station, then take a Northern Line train down to the Elephant. I actually was sick and tired of hearing the train driver's silly attempts to be light hearted and humourous about the situation; after all, he is in his cab and inaccessible and safe; the rest of us have to squeeze and squash our way around inside the car and just wanted information, not cheering up--it was too late for that.

Well, I got on the DLR train at Heron Quays, and we went one stop, to Canary Wharf DLR, when the train attendant (they don't have drivers, only a guard who sometimes looks at tickets and passes) said that because of a dead train ahead we would be going to Stratford instead of Bank. It's now 5:30 pm and I am pissed off.

I got off at Bow Church and walked about 3 blocks to Bow Road District Line Station and got on a District Line train to Ealing Broadway. We rolled along until just after Mansion House. We stopped. After about 10 minutes the train driver informed us that there was a defective train ahead of us and we would be waiting until the passengers discharged to move. We waited for about 15 minutes, and then crept into Monument station, where hordes of people were waiting for us. They all crammed in, and we crept from station to station, delayed at every stop by people who wanted to get on this already-packed train. I had a seat, but watching people try to treat the train door as a mosh pit really made me nervous and angry.

We finally got to Embankment, where I transferred to the Bakerloo Line which, miraculously, wasn't delayed at all, and finally got home at 6:30 pm. Two hours from the time I walked out of the client's door.

Pfui! as Nero Wolfe would say. Not that Nero Wolfe would ever get on an Underground train.

The upshot is that I didn't feel like cooking, so HWMBO went out and got Chinese food. I snapped at him all night; I couldn't keep from doing it--being grumpy and nerve-racked is hard to shake off. I am still angry. Years of underinvestment have produced this situation.

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Well, there were no disasters today. I woke up, looked at my toe and it has already improved. And, jumping ahead, this evening when I undressed it after walking and standing all day, it was still improving. So, fingers crossed this will continue.

We went out and took a taxi to the Metro. I haven't mentioned much about the taxis here, I believe. They are ubiquitous, clean, and well kept. Unfortunately, I've not been in one yet that had a functioning rear seat belt. This makes me majorly nervous, as the traffic here is wild, wild, wild. People just walk in front of cars, they jaywalk with impunity, I've only seen one motorcylist wearing a helmet (and I will bet he was foreign), and running red lights is the norm. Anyway, we got to the Metro in one piece. We went on an elevated train one stop to Line 2, which is below ground, and took that to Nanjing Road East. There we met our friend Jane for a walk to the Bund for some pictures.

Now, I won't be uploading pics from the camera for a while, so no pics here. However, I did take some down there. The buildings are all 1930's or perhaps turn of the last century, and every last one has a Chinese flag on it. The tourists are bunched like flies to honey over there, so the touts are out in force. Every few yards, a guy or (more rarely) a girl will sidle up to you (if you look like a tourist) and mutter "Watches?" As a tourist, you throw them when you answer "Bu yao" which means "Don't want." They then go away convinced you speak enough Chinese to understand them. There were no touts for girls, boys, or massages, which somewhat surprised me.

We walked up the main drag until we got to an (ahem!) Pizza Hut, where Jane thought we should have lunch. This was, um, interesting. There was no diet soda, so I had to have a Kiwi Mango drink, which tasted neither of kiwi nor of mango. It must have come from Zaphod Beeblebrox's spaceship "The Heart of Gold," where the tea machine spat out something that was almost but not quite entirely unlike tea. The pizza was OK, but I long for a US pizza, with a thin crust, oodles of peppers and onions on it, and lots of tomato sauce and mozzarella. I shall have to learn to make one, I think. I banged my head on the ceiling as I walked upstairs to the toilets. Saw stars for a moment or two. The "Mind your head" sign is parallel to the staircase and only becomes obvious as you descend.

Then we taxied to an older part of town, where there were shops galone. I bought a finger painting in blue that I felt was absolutely stunning, a name chop (Chinese signet stamp), some socks for my poor feet, a Beijing 2008 neck chain (I wish they'd take it in 2012 as well), and HWMBO bought a panda to accompany the one I bought him in 2006. We saw a traffic accident at the end of the road we were walking on, and a fistfight broke out between a taxi driver and (we believe) his passenger. The passenger's girlfriend tried to break up the fight, and didn't succeed. I took some pictures. The crowd was growing, and turning ugly, before we taxied away to the restaurant.

The restaurant is very substantial, with lots of very heavy wooden tables laid out as if around a courtyard. There is a grand staircase up to the balcony, which will figure later. We ordered a lot of stuff (again, no diet soda, so I had to order a bottle of Evian with which to take my pills), including some brown sticks of solidified tofu, which tasted almost but not quite entirely unlike cheese, asparagus with black fungus (the fungus was chewy, but the asparagus was OK), some steamed pork belly which seemed quite fatty to me (so little of it was consumed by me), a whole braised spicy fishhead (of which I did not partake but which HWMBO demolished--these are huge, about the size of dinner plates), Szechuan chicken, which had more chili pods than chicken pieces (but tasted quite good--your mouth didn't burn after eating it, it tingled), some chicken and mushroom soup that was fabulous, fried rice that is the closest I've ever had to fried rice in US Chinese restaurants (I gobbled it up), Szechuan spicy noodles which were good, sweet potato puffs and a corn bun, which were also both good.

Then, at 7:40, the performance began. A man in costume jumped out on the balcony and began to caper about, robes and fan swinging in the air as he jumped. Wonderful; I got some pics which will, unfortunately, have to wait. Then he came around the balcony and descended the staircase. I posed with him as HWMBO was in the background and Choo Beng took a picture. That one came out really well.

Back to the balcony for some fire-eating. It was really great; got one picture which probably will need lots of Photoshop before it's presentable.

Now in London, you'd probably pay 25 pounds a head for something like this, maybe more. We paid 295 renminbi, which is approximately 20 pounds. For the entire meal plus performance.

Then home to unpack our goodies, watch a Chinese version of Pop Idol (good looking boys), and make this entry, and thus to bed.
chrishansenhome: (Default)
A guy puts lots of initiatives to fund light rail onto Kansas City, Missouri's ballot. They all fail. In disgust, he moves to Virginia, but leaves one last initiative behind. The City Fathers are asleep at the switch, and surprisingly, it passes. But, according to this article, it threatens to "derail" an innovative bus service.
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Got up, everything was fine. Left the house at 7:30, that was fine. Got on the Underground and got to Embankment, where I normally change for the District or Circle Line. Oops! Someone jumped in front of a westbound train at Temple Station, so no westbound trains. I walked up to Charing Cross and took a cab to work from there (GBP 8).

Now, two things irk me about this. First, why oh why do people use trains as suicide enablers? The poor train driver is traumatised, the entire network is affected, and it's a messy death (which sometimes does not work!) And, of course, people invariably do it in rush hour--perhaps to spite the world.

Second, why oh why didn't the Underground say something about it before I got on the train at Elephant and Castle? I could have taken the Northern Line southbound to Stockwell and changed for the Victoria Line there, thus avoiding the problem and saving £8. Nothing was said until I was out of the Bakerloo Line train at Embankment and on the escalator to Platform 1, which as I passed by going out of the station was crammed full of people who obviously were paying no attention to the announcements saying there were no Westbound trains.

Now I hope that things are better when I go to St. Thomas's this morning for my cardiology checkup; I expect there will still be delays as this kind of incident usually causes hours of problems. And, of course, I hope the cardiologist finds that my heart's still beating and that I'm doing fine.
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Chicago has a Brown line; it now seems that southeast England has its own Brown Line as well...

Saturday note: They seem to have captured the miscreant, who is "of no fixed address". I suppose he may have have difficulty finding a public convenience...
chrishansenhome: (Default)
Her father wanted to go on one last train ride, so she rode all the way to Chicago with him. He only got partway, though. Strangely enough, I like this story and feel that it might be every railfan's dream.
chrishansenhome: (Default)
How many metro systems have you ridden? Here's my total. Thanks to [personal profile] gmjambear for the link.

Manchester Shanghai

Get it at!
Update: Added "Shanghai" after our June trip.

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