Friday, 29 March 2013

Hardcore


In the course of planning a top secret IT project, a colleague and I met a software developer in London on Friday.  He’s a lovely guy but you couldn’t wish for a sharper contrast between the traditional world of buses and the razor-sharp cutting edge of mobile technology.  While I looked unkempt in my baggy, tired old suit, he looked like the cover of a fashion magazine – so cool he needed an ice bucket to stand in.

He took us to a free range, organic, ethically sourced coffee shop.  All the other customers looked like models waiting for their next job.  My colleague had something complicated involving peppermint and hot chocolate.  This guy had something so involved it took about two minutes just to order it.  Being of simple taste I asked for an Americano.

The drinks arrived and he stared at mine, wide eyed.

“Is that, like, a normal black coffee?” he asked, his face etched with disbelief.  I replied that it was.

He reached out to shake my hand.  "Oh man," he said, "you're hardcore!"



Homeward bound by road, rail and sea


Day two started with breakfast at Tiffany’s.  We were uninspired by the prospect of a Royal Albion fry-up, and worried about being swept up into a sea of coach parties and being whisked away for an inadvertent tour of Eastbourne - even if it would include a visit to Beachy Head, a cream tea and a nice sit down on the prom.

So we checked out of our regal accommodation and set off under Keith’s guidance in the direction of some local cafes that he had scouted earlier in the morning.

Along the way, we paused to admire Brighton & Hove’s new travel shop in North Street.  This really is an object lesson in how to present public transport in a positive, welcoming way.  Featuring a spacious, bright interior with plenty of information on display and advisors on hand, and situated right in the heart of Brighton’s shopping area, this outlet really brings public transport into a modern retail setting.


Further along the road, you might be forgiven for thinking that Brighton & Hove is not the only bus company to realise the importance of a strong retail presence…


Keith’s scouting trip had identified several possible candidates for breakfast, but the pictures of old buses hanging on the wall of Tiffany’s were clearly the clincher.  The friendly, helpful server was coping manfully despite running the whole show on his own having been let down by his business partner (“she’s still in bed, the lazy cow”).

He also had no change, and just to prove that the bus industry is not unique, several customers were sent to a shop next door to get change – although at least he didn’t refuse to cook their breakfast until they did so, or try to give them a change voucher.  In several cases, the problem was overcome simply by negotiating the price of breakfast to the nearest round number.

During breakfast we were again able to impress the locals with our ability to cover every available piece of furniture with maps and timetables and soon decided that the next stage of our adventure would be in the hands of new local independent theSussexBus.com – one of several companies to emerge following the demise of Countryliner in late 2012.

Brand names ending in .com were fashionable in the so called “dot com bubble” of the late nineties when – by coincidence – virtually all of theSussexBus.com’s fleet was manufactured.

Branding a nineties fleet with a nineties brand name is of course a genius attempt at creating a heritage fleet without anyone noticing.

If you buy a Bristol something-or-other from the fifties, paint it green with a cream stripe down the side and apply any fleetname in a suitably florid typeface, everyone can see what you’re up to straight away.  Drop words like “Tilling” and “superintendent” into the conversation and you need a drip tray for all the dribble hitting the floor as grown men are reduced to gibbering toddlers.

Replace fifties with nineties and write “.com” on the side and you’ve done exactly the same thing with Dennis Darts. And you don’t even need a drip tray.  Well you do, clearly, because they’re Dennis Darts so they will routinely leak from every orifice but at least that’s what the drip tray is designed for.

For proof that I’m on to something, look no further than the fact that theSussexBus.com is associated with a coach company called – guess what – Heritage!

The P-reg Dart that picked us up for a ride on the 40 to Haywards Heath even had period moquette – a red chequered pattern of a design commonly found on Plaxton dealer stock buses in the late  nineties.

But one thing to be said about theSussexBus.com is that they ooze enthusiasm.  The website – while doing its best to stick to the design principles of the late nineties – is packed full of useful and interesting information and they seem to have the customer very much at the heart of their thinking – an approach which of course endears me to them immediately.  Our driver lived up to the image – helpful and friendly, if slightly haphazard.

All was going superbly until we reached Burgess Hill town centre when the air system on our Dart decided that one morning’s work without a failure was too much to expect (this is an attitude shared by air systems on Darts everywhere) and the doors failed.

After much forelorn prodding of the “open” and “close” buttons, and with a short queue of nice old ladies waiting outside wondering why they couldn’t join the rest of us on board, our driver called for medical advice.

As he jumped out of the cab it became clear that what he made up for in enthusiasm he lacked in height, and when the fitter on the other end of the phone asked him to access the door controls situated in a locker above the door, we could see ourselves being there a while.

Sadly for the step ladder industry in Burgess Hill, our Keith spotted the predicament and raced to the rescue, and with the driver relaying instructions and the much taller Keith twiddling the pressure control, within seconds the doors were operational again.  As our fourth emergency service returned jubilantly to his seat (he is, after all, a very nice man), the elderly gent sat across the aisle enquired if he would be available to ride round on all their buses, all the time!

Meanwhile the heritage theme continued as I was descending into nostalgia.  The route of the 40 is almost identical to the all stations rail replacement route from Brighton to Haywards Heath – for no particular reason that I could tell you, my favourite of the many rail replacement routes upon which I have worked.

I hadn’t worked this route since 2007 so for me it was an “all my yesterdays” trip down memory lane.  At that time the newly created Go South Coast – with me in charge of the eastern front as Area Director for Solent Blue Line and Southern Vectis – was heavily involved in providing buses for Southern Railways weekend rail replacement.

When the Brighton main line was being dug up, the A23 between Crawley and the coast resembled an episode of Wacky Races, with double deckers of every shape and colour being fired off from each end every few minutes for the non-stop journey.

But for the more discerning driver, the opportunity was often available to borrow a coach from the newly acquired Marchwood Motorways, and work the slow road from Three Bridges to the English Channel, taking in Balcombe, Haywards Heath, Wivelsfield, Burgess Hill, Hassocks, Preston Park and Brighton.

A certain amount of smugness was called for as most drivers from our neck of the woods didn’t know the all stations route and it was nice to have one up on them.  It must be said my smugness diminished slightly the day a gentleman decided to count to two in his trousers on a particularly hot day with the heating stuck on in my coach.  And then after getting the coach cleaned out and virtually fumigated, he did the same on the way back.  But that’s a story for another day.

Back to the present day, and our arrival in Haywards Heath was enlivened by the sight of an Ikarus DAF SB220 still in full Wilts & Dorset livery and apparently recently acquired by theSussexBus.com.

This turned out to be the only memorable thing about our visit to Haywards Heath and within minutes we were on a First Capital Connect train bound for Gatwick Airport and our first busway of the day.

We emerged from the railway station into the South Terminal at Gatwick jostling with business people and leisure travels, bound for far flung cities on distant continents.  Our destination was Crawley.

For an international airport, the bus experience starts so well.  On all the signs within the terminal building are prominent directions to Metrobus local bus services – even incorporating the Metrobus logo, a rare feat on what are normally dull, neutral signs.  Metrobus have elevated themselves to the same status as the top level hotel brands and certainly have greater prominence than the car hire companies, and all credit to them.

Sadly the experience unravels slightly when you discover that the route pointed out by the signs takes you out through a fire exit, down several flights of stairs, along the side of a busy dual carriageway, through a dark, dingy underpass and back up the other side again.

Once you get there, the bus stop is superb.  A huge shelter, first class electronic information and a wide supply of timetable leaflets to pick up.

I have no idea whether the route from the terminal to the stop is an airport or highway authority issue, or indeed whether any improvements are planned, but it is desperately sad when compared with the first class infrastructure before and after, to have to endure this dismal hike through the back of beyond to connect the two.

I am a huge fan of Metrobus, can only dream of building a fleet and network as impressive as theirs and have particular admiration for the way they have transformed the image of public transport in an area where once it had been run into the ground.

It saddens me therefore to report that our short trip on Fastway 10 was an anti-climax.   I have never liked the Scania OmniCity, finding them to be claustrophobic, and this example seemed to have more bars and railings than a children’s playpen, giving the impression that we were incarcerated in a blue and orange prison.

Our prison warder, ensconced behind the steering wheel, did little to dispel this impression with his spartan approach to customer service.  Not actually rude, but no welcome, pleases or thank yous and the distinct impression that we passengers were merely an inconvenience to be endured for the eight hours between coming to work and going home from work.

We knew that we wouldn’t see much actual busway on this trip – most of the guided track is out to the south of the town centre so we had to make do with a short stretch across a roundabout.  But we stoked ourselves with anticipation nevertheless, enjoyed the moment when it came and it qualified as our first busway ride of the day.

Alighting in Crawley Bus Station, we briefly debated finding somewhere for lunch, but then remembered that we were in Crawley and that the best strategy was therefore to leave quickly.

Ideally, we would have liked to have wended our way gradually westwards in a mirror of the previous day’s trip, but Alex and Keith had to catch a train home from Southampton early that evening so we were constrained for time.  The next planned move was therefore a hefty jump by rail through the scenic Arun Valley to Portsmouth to sample our second busway of the day.

One of many things that Metrobus take seriously is timetables, and their bus station travel shop was festooned with interesting publicity.  I got quite excited about a possible option involving a quick trip to Horsham on the 23 to see the newest part of the Metrobus empire and a new bus station to boot.  We could have continued our rail journey from there, but a quick check of the National Rail website revealed that Southern Railway were having a bad day, and the train we would have needed to catch had been cancelled.

We therefore reverted to plan A and crossed the road to Crawley Station.  After settling ourselves into the relaxing surroundings of an almost empty Southern train and wallpapering the carriage with bus timetables to while away the journey, we were able to pass a very agreeable hour chilling out after a frenetic morning.

Our train was actually headed for Southampton and we were required to change in Cosham to reach Portsmouth, so somewhere along the way we realized it would be much more fun to leave the railway at Cosham and work our way into the city centre on the bus – particularly as it was not long since the network had been completely overhauled.

We soon found ourselves at the tiny little bus station just south of Cosham railway station, pondering our options.  The level of service available from here is excellent, with several high frequency services available.  We worked out that we had a choice of three routes for a direct journey into Portsmouth city centre, with a combined frequency of 16 buses per hour.

However, it seems a pity that despite all the fanfare surrounding the launch of the new network, First don’t seem to have found a way to present this kind of headline information drawing attention to the frequencies available.

The only way we could work out the offer was by wandering round to each individual stop and checking the timetable displays on the stops – and even then it helped to have a reasonable knowledge of the area to be able to filter out the options that were less direct.  So I got to the right answer by comparing four different timetables on two different stops, and I wonder how many potential casual users would have that level of patience and determination.

When the bus did arrive – after only a few moments of waiting - it was a pretty standard corporate First Group Dart, tidy and cleanly presented and gratifyingly busy.   The driver helpfully guided us to tickets that would cover us for all our planned journeys across the First Hampshire network and we sat down.

Immediately on so doing, I was propelled about seven years back in time.  This bus had clearly been based at Southampton depot at some time in its history and since moving east, it appeared to have evaded any efforts to update its internal adverts.

Among the usual depressing selection of posters highlighting the perils of sexual diseases, domestic abuse and drug addiction was a particularly aggressive message apparently produced by Southampton City Council and partners, telling us in no uncertain terms that we WOULD be prosecuted (What for?  Riding on a bus in Portsmouth?)



The poster attracted my attention only because it featured the Solent Blue Line logo from the mid-2000s, and one which disappeared from use in 2007 shortly after I too disappeared from use at Go South Coast!.  An unexpected reminder of my past in an unexpected place!

It was of course superseded by the Bluestar identity, so if nothing else it gave me another excuse to remind the award-winning Alex Hornby that the award-winning Bluestar brand was invented by me!  To be fair he has never been slow to acknowledge this, but I still enjoy gently winding him up about it from time to time.

Finding ourselves at the Hard Interchange some half an hour later, flanked by the ultra-modern Gunwharf Quays development on one side and the immaculately restored HMSVictory on the other, the next stage of our adventure was to take to the high seas aboard the Gosport Ferry.

This delightfully municipal affair shuttles backwards and forwards all day on its five hundred metre voyage across the mouth of Portsmouth Harbour (and that’s not as simple as it sounds – in 2005 during the preparations for Trafalgar 200 I was present when the US Navy lost a boatload of cadets for around half an hour somewhere between the two).

The slogan of the Gosport Ferry – “it’s shorter by water” – was clearly inspired by the same advertising genius who coined such memorable phrases as “a lot less fuss by bus”.  It lives up to its billing though, and in no time at all we were marching up the gangway filled with excitement at the prospect of our long-awaited ride on Eclipse.

Even more excitement was generated by the presence of no fewer than two information offices in Gosport Bus Station.  Most towns this size would be lucky to retain one such outlet these days, but as you enter the terminal you find yourself torn by the attractions of the tourist information office on your right or the First enquiry office on your left.  A quick check of both revealed a virtually identical stock of transport publicity so we were soon in possession of yet more timetables for our collections.

Eclipse is a superb project.  Many years in the gestation, the heart of it is an arrow-straight dedicated busway built on the trackbed of an old railway line.  Buses using the busway can escape the chronic traffic congestion of the parallel A32 to provide a fast, comfortable journey along the Gosport – Fareham peninsula.

It seems a pity therefore that the start of the Eclipse experience is very low-key.  I had imagined the departure bays would be decorated in the brand identity, with welcoming messages to make potential customers feel that they were going to experience something different.

Instead, while there is an information panel in the bus station concourse, the bays themselves only identify themselves with small standard corporate signs referring to “First E1 E2”.  It is left to the potential user to work out for themselves that this is the gateway to the region’s most exciting, state of the art transport link.

Once aboard the bus, everything is different.  With a fleet of new vehicles boasting a very high-spec interior, it is clear that no effort has been spared to consider how to make the service as attractive as possible.  And despite a slow journey out of Gosport, once on to the busway we could really appreciate the quality of the infrastructure.

The vehicles, the “track” itself and the bus stop amenities are all very impressive and it is clear why this project will attract people for whom public transport would never previously have been an option.

Fareham Bus Station seems to have benefitted from a little more effort to promote the new link, with prominent welcoming messages at the entrance, but still with those dreaded “First E1 E2” signs in the bus station itself.

I suppose the conclusion is, fantastic product, shame about the terminals!

The last leg of our trip – simply to get Alex and Keith back to Southampton to catch their homeward train – consisted of an hour-long ride aboard Solent Ranger X4.

This is a new First route that emerged from last year’s network changes across the region, all part of an impressive effort to tidy up the historically messy service offer in the semi-urban sprawl west of Fareham.  The route runs all the way from Southampton to Portsmouth, meeting myriad requests for a through service between the two, albeit with a long journey time.  And whatever one thinks of the First livery, the brand looks impressive in the flesh and certainly gives a big lift to the S-reg Darts to which it is applied.

Sadly all this excitement hadn’t quite succeeded in energizing our driver.  Arriving early at 1551 for a 1555 departure, but with a crew change required, the new driver emerged from the office at 1558 and it was around 1602 before we were underway.  The full seated load however was impressive all the same, and it’s just a pity that the road network in the area frustrates any attempt to provide a journey time that lives up to the “X” in the service number.

Back in Southampton at the end of an intense two days roaming the public transport network of the south of England, we managed to summon up just enough energy to drag ourselves to a restaurant for food and beer before my travelling colleagues set off for home.

Before we started, we had been afraid that we might have found this trip boring.  Compared to our previous European adventures where we had new places to explore and different cultures to experience, on this occasion we were relying solely on the transport to provide the excitement.  We had wondered whether there was enough entertainment to be found in sitting on buses all day.

But to our pleasant surprise we had found that on each leg of our journey there had been something of interest – whether it be the staff, the vehicles, the infrastructure, our fellow travellers, or a combination of all of them – we had never been bored and never been short of things to talk about.

All we have to decide now is where to go next!

Sunday, 24 February 2013

Overland to Brighton



Regular readers of this irregular blog will know that occasionally I go on holiday with a couple of fellow industry professionals.  To protect their anonymity, for the purpose of this blog I will codename them Alex and Keith.  Previous trips have taken us to Switzerland, Holland and Germany, but – scarred by the memory of -15 degree temperatures in the Harz mountains last winter - we decided that a trip to the seaside was in order this time.  Moreover we decided to limit the duration to two days as bitter experience has shown that I am an unreliable blogger of longer trips!

So while the South Downs may lack the drama of the Alps, we settled on an overland expedition starting in Winchester and finishing in Brighton, working our way back along the coast to Southampton the following day.  This would also give us the chance to sample the new Eclipse bus rapid transit system between Gosport and Fareham.

Our trip started with a journey from Winchester to Petersfield on one of my own buses on route 67.  This is a very picturesque route won on tender in summer 2012, and one which we enjoy operating enormously – hugely popular with staff and public alike.  We acquired a batch of T-registered DAF DB250 low floor double deckers to run the contract, a move which caused some raised eyebrows as they had a reputation as an unloved batch of vehicles.

However, we figured that the two years they spent sat in a farmyard prior to us acquiring them would be a benefit, as they would be used to a rural setting.  And once we had evicted the nesting birds and mice, ripped out the mouldy seats and completely revamped the interiors, they have been excellent motors and given first class service.



Our waiting conveyance was the sole Plaxton President in the batch, and once my travelling companions had admired our unique moquette and drooled over the LED lights, we were off.

Or at least we were off the stand, but immediately become embroiled in the gridlock of a full Winchester bus station and were marooned, unable to move forwards or back for several minutes.  It soon became clear that the entire functioning of the Stagecoach Winchester network depended on the departure of the 1100 service 46 which was blocking the whole of the bus station.  It finally decided to leave at 1105 and then we really were off!

But we made slow progress in heavy traffic through the city centre and by the time we made it out into the countryside we were ten minutes late.  This was a bit alarming given that the itinerary depended on an eight minute connection at Petersfield into the Midhurst service, with the threat of a two hour wait in Petersfield if we didn’t make it.

But there was nothing to be done other than to relax and enjoy the delightful scenery of the Itchen and Meon Valleys and hope for the best.  Simon, our driver, was excellent and made progress where he could while showing off his manoeuvring skills in the many tight spots along the country lanes, and it turned out to be a thoroughly enjoyable ride – compulsory travelling for anyone who uses buses for pleasure, even if I have a vested interest!



But this was one trip where everything that could go against us seemed to be doing so, and numerous encounters with tractors, speeding 4x4s and nervy car drivers in the twisting back roads meant we were twelve minutes late by the time we were through East Meon , the last meaningful settlement on the route, and we were contemplating an extended lunch break in Petersfield.

Somehow however, we managed to regain several minutes once back out onto the A272 and made the Midhurst connection with two minutes to spare.  Our traction turned out to be a real treat, being an entirely unrefurbished G-reg Dennis Dart operated by Emsworth & District. 



I was reminded during the trip that this vehicle has followed me round, having appeared at Southern Vectis and Solent Blue Line during my time there, and indeed I have probably driven it at some point.  However, while the interior is untouched from the day it first hit the road, it has received an important mechanical modification in that the brake pedal has been removed and the accelerator welded to the floor.

So from the moment we pulled away from Petersfield station, we proceeded at full throttle virtually all the way to Midhurst.  Our driver – whose cash tray was apparently named Jose – was undeterred by such trivialities as give way lines, bends in the road and other traffic.

We stopped only to pick up a young mother in Stedham, who disproved the need for low floor buses by bumping her pushchair up the steps and then, after a deft three point turn, into the passenger saloon where she parked with the buggy occupying the full width of the aisle.

The combined deterrents of a driver who only knew full speed and a pushchair blocking the exit route were sufficient to dissuade anyone from getting off along the rest of the trip, so we were able to revel in our exhilarating white knuckle ride all the way to the Midhurst terminus.  As we sat in a café near the bus stop taking a quick lunch, attracting concerned looks from the locals with maps and timetables spread across the table, we could talk about nothing but our amazing journey on this classic vehicle of a type hardly in use these days, driven with such verve and vigour.

After the delights of a G-reg Carlyle Dart, the Stagecoach offering for route 1 to Worthing was always going to be rather bland, though no one could complain about the immaculately clean 56-reg low-floor Dart waiting to carry us onwards.  But whatever character the vehicle lacked, the driver made up for in spades.

I was tasked with asking for the cheapest option to get the three of us to Worthing then along the coast to Brighton.  “Hire a plane”, responded our driver.  He then proceeded to be super helpful, explaining that he could sell us Dayrider Gold tickets with the added bonus of being able to use them on Brighton & Hove buses later on.

We set off on our lengthy journey across the eastern half of the South Downs, with the driver pointing out occasional places of interest along the way.  The 1 seems to be one of those routes where you always turn the other way to the signs pointing to your destination, yet somehow seem to end up there anyway.

We paused briefly in Storrington.  Keith ascertained that he had enough time to disembark to take a photo of the bus – it’s probably as well that he remains ignorant of the conversation between Alex, me and the driver while he was off - and when he reboarded the driver pointed out the roadside publicity for the Fruity Bus Company.  This appeared to be some form of community transport service, using 8-seat buses to run a pre-bookable direct service between Storrington and Worthing, presumably to provide a faster alternative to the Stagecoach service 1.

By the now the driver was thoroughly in tune with his odd collection of passengers, and while we waited for time a lengthy discussion took place about the nature of the Fruity Bus service.  Our driver claimed never to have seen one.  Soon the rest of the passengers joined in, and before we knew it we were at the heart of a lively discussion about the viability of evening bus services.

Excitement was to reach fever pitch as we left Storrington however, when we encountered coming the other way pure bus porn in the form of a Leyland Tiger – one of a batch used on the erstwhile Tiger Line service in Hertfordshire.  Our driver didn’t know to whom it belonged so – based on no evidence at all, and in defiance of the fact that their publicity said they ran eight seaters – we decided it must be the Fruity Bus!

Immediately we started recalculating our itinerary to work out how we could incorporate a Fruity adventure into our day, as we could not possibly miss the chance of a ride on such a vehicle!  We spent several minutes debating the merits of a 1 back to Storrington then the Fruity Bus to Worthing, or a Fruity trip both ways, before realising that the Tiger was actually going in the opposite direction compared to where it should have been on the timetable!  A quick Google search revealed that the vehicle is now a school bus and that a Fruity trip was most likely to yield a very mundane Ford Transit.

Alighting in Worthing, our excellent driver gave us directions to walk to the seafront via a path along the side of the depot, which we promptly ignored – how rude that anyone should think of us as bus spotters!  But we had nothing but praise for the great charisma he had shown throughout the journey – friendly and cheerful with all the passengers and joining in the banter as he got into the spirit of our trip.

We walked round to the seafront for the next leg of our journey – a trip to Brighton on Coastliner 700.  This is an epic route, starting in Southsea and running through Portsmouth, Havant, Chichester, Bognor Regis, Littlehampton, Worthing and Shoreham before arriving in Brighton almost four hours later.  I guess people most travel the whole length, but despite the opulent surroundings of a nearly new Enviro 400, we were pleased only to be doing a short stretch.

Before we could board however, we had to run the gauntlet of the kerbside conductor.  Clad in a high-vis jacket just in case we might have missed him, his job was clearly to manage the crowds waiting to board the bus to Brighton.  However, while the usefulness of this is beyond doubt at 11am on a sunny summer’s morning, its value at 3pm on a wet Wednesday afternoon in February is less clear.



The bus was sat there with its door open with several minutes still to go until departure – the driver waiting expectantly in the cab.  But just as any passenger was about to step on to the bus this voice from behind the desk ten feet away would call them back – “I need to check your ticket”, he said to each of us, “then you can get straight on” he smiled reassuringly, having just prevented us from doing exactly that.

Six or seven passengers were prevented from boarding in exactly the same way, before it started to rain and he and his ticket counter retreated under a nearby shop canopy, from where he was able to add around a further ten foot detour to the last few passengers heading for the bus.

The trip to Brighton was uneventful, not helped by the gloomy turn to the weather and me sulking because my phone battery had died, but as we neared our destination thoughts turned to more bus porn.  Being as I am, rabidly enthusiastic about bendibuses, I was delighted that my colleagues fancied a ride to Sussex University on the 25, a Brighton & Hove route operated by ex-London articulated Citaros.  So we bailed out at Palmeira Square, Hove, and almost immediately were on our way aboard one of my favourite buses.

Our trip to Sussex University and then the Brighton University site at Falmer involved two buses – we decided to change on to the bus before ours at Park Village just because we could!  And what a contrast between the two – the first artic was in unrefurbished London General trim, whereas the second had been retrimmed using the bright red B&H moquette.  Anyone who doubts the benefit of refurbishing mid-life vehicles should have taken the trip with us to see what a huge difference it makes.



We figured that our way back to the city centre would be to retrace our steps using a third such vehicle, and were very pleasantly surprised when a rare 5B wandered into view.  This was one of a handful of peak hour extensions of a service that otherwise terminates in a nondescript industrial estate in the suburb of Hollingbury.  Not only did this give us the chance for some unexpected terminus hopping, but the terminus came to us!



The vehicle was a Wright Gemini bodied Volvo something-or-other which doubles as a member of the company’s private hire fleet when required.  This meant it was very well appointed internally but oddly was also – like most of the buses we used during the day – freezing cold inside.  It gave us a scenic tour of Coldean, Carden, Hollingbury and Preston Village – including two laps of Asda along the way just in case once wasn’t enough to appreciate its splendour – and eventually dropped us back in the city centre outside our carefully selected hotel, the Royal Albion.

This must be the best located hotel in Brighton, adjacent to the pier on one side, Old Steine on the other and with plenty of shops, eateries and nightlife on either side.  It’s highly visible from all directions, and should be one of the resort’s focal points.  Instead, it is the epitome of faded seaside glamour – tatty, run down and worn out, a relic of a previous era.  I have stayed here a number of times and apart from it being cheap,  love it for its sheer naffness and unwillingness to accept that we are in the twenty first century.

I knew that Alex and Keith would appreciate the reception area, festooned with threatening notices telling you all the things that you mustn’t do, and the consequences you might face if you did them.  While we were waiting an interminable amount of time to be checked in by our gum-chewing receptionist, we were able to read the list of sitting times for dinner for the various coach parties, and contemplate the fact that the function room off reception was fittingly hosting a wake.

My room, on the floor below reception, did not have a view of the outside world at all but instead had a window out on to what looked like some kind of service corridor, with clusters of workmens’ tools arranged around ropey old chairs.  Inside the room, the television didn’t work properly and there was no discernible heating, but at least there was power to charge my phone.  Curiously, my room had probably the nicest shower of any hotel I can remember staying in, anywhere!

The first time I stayed at the Royal Albion was for a fringe meeting at the TUC Congress in the mid-2000s where I had been despatched along with various Go-Ahead Group colleagues for a meeting with assembled RMT reps.  I remember it not for the meeting itself, but for being knocked over by Bob Crow at the after party.  The party to be seen at that evening was the Morning Star ‘do’ in the nightclub under the Grand Hotel, and our union colleagues were cock-a-hoop that they had secured enough tickets for all of us.  The party itself was unremarkable, but more fool me for accidentally finding myself in the middle of a straight line between Bob Crow and the person he wanted to speak to.  Turns out, he doesn’t do detours.

Tempting though it was to stay in the hotel and watch waves of coach travellers descending on the restaurant in quarter hourly swarms, the evening was still young and Brighton was our oyster.  So what do you do in one of the south coast’s finest seaside resorts for two hours before dinner?  Easy – ride buses.  So before we knew it we were off to the Marina on a 7.

We’d selected the route because we fancied a go on some hybrids.  I’m sure they’re very effective – I have no grasp of the technology at all – but it’s very disconcerting riding along in a bus that appears to stall every few minutes, and then restart.  Sensibly, there were notices on display to explain to passengers what was happening, but a weird sensation nevertheless.

After being told off by the driver for failing to get off at the terminus – even though there were no clues to tell us we were at the terminus – and instead being dropped off in some kind of layover area, we managed to get the bus before it for our trip back into town, and then decided it was time for alcohol and food.

The day was brought to a very successful conclusion thanks to a few very welcome pints of Harvey’s Sussex Best at the Royal Oak in Kemp Town, followed by a superb meal at Brown’s.  This was enlivened by a hugely endearing waitress who made our night by finding exactly the right balance between gently taking the mickey out of us while providing great service, and also managed to regale us with some stories of her past.  She even liked buses!  Proof yet again that great customer service cannot be written in a script.

Stay tuned for day two of our travels – a tale of two busways - in which Keith saves us from being marooned in Burgess Hill, Fastway shows the best and worst of customer communication and First First transport me back in time to 2006.