For ticket holders and dignitaries only - why I felt cheated by "Steam on the Underground"

‘The events’ writes the Transport for London's (TfL) website ‘will explore the tube’s history and will look at the role it will play in the future – both in the lives of Londoners and the economy of the City and the UK.’ We have repeatedly been told that London’s underground network is the lifeblood of the city; flowing into the veins of all who live and work here. We have been told that it serves us, that it functions for our benefit, through times of happiness and joy; and through sorrow and heartache. This does, therefore, lead me to ask why one of TfL's events, the running of steam on the Underground, was seemingly so poorly orchestrated that there was no hope that most Londoners could get a descent look-in.

I’m not talking about the lottery for tickets to ride on the steam train. There were limited spaces and this was probably the fairest way to decide who got to go on the historic run. Nor am I talking about the success of getting a steam engine running on the underground in the first place; that is a notable achievement. Rather, I am talking about the chronic lack of information available; the very un-friendly provisions for families and the arrangements for viewing the train at Moorgate.

Enthusiasts at Earl's Court

 The underground’s website suitably praised TfL’s operation of a historic train; except that crucial of all information, the route and times of its journey. Nether was their information on the best places to see it. I knew, as did almost every railway enthusiast, which rather obscure website held such information. But imagine if I were a parent wanting to take my children to see the run, would I have known which website to go? I don’t think so; I don’t think many would have known how to find the times out. Consequently, at the stations I visited it was clear that the railway enthusiast fraternity had turned out in droves; while ‘Londoners’, young and old, were in short supply. Why the times were not on the main TfL site (or if it was it was very well hidden) is beyond me.

TfL also probably made a windfall out of the steam train’s journeys. This wasn’t because of the £180 it cost to ride on it, that presumably covered the cost of operating the train. I’m referring to all those who ‘touched in’ with their Oyster cards, but failed to touch out in time because they were waiting around for the steam train, meaning money was subtracted from it. Suffice to say I got stung twice. I topped up my Oyster like a good little lad at Hampton Court; I usually top it up to the price of a travel card, so I had £8.90 when I left there. But after being inside Earl’s Court Station waiting for the steam engine for about an hour, on attempting to leave I was told I had no money. I queried this, but eventually put it down to some fault in the system and topped up again. Yet, when the same thing happened on attempting to leave at Barbican, after being ‘inside’ the tube for about two hours - it was only then I twigged. I appreciate I should have been more astute and figured this would happen; after all, I travel on the tube weekly. But what about the uninitiated; someone who was unfamiliar with Oyster cards and visiting to specifically see the train? I dread to think how much TfL made out of such people who made the same mistake I did. Yet, people could have avoided such a blunder if TfL had simply placed a mention on their website and at stations ‘Do not use an Oyster if planning to stay in the station for some time – use a paper Travelcard.’ Would this have been so hard?

I probably got one of the best views - still dreadful though

But then there was what happened at Moorgate. Now, I know that a lot of people wanted to get to the steam train to have a look, but the way that the situation was handled was verging on the infuriating. For those who are unaware; Moorgate has two terminal platforms. When I arrived behind the barrier, TfL had decided to put the steam train in one of these and then had shoved a tube train, completely obscuring mine and others view, in the next. This was followed by at least 45 minutes of very mixed messages from different officials and police officers as to whether the tube train would move – at first it was going to; but then it didn’t; although we weren't certain of that for some time. Following this the dignitaries who had just got off the steam train came round in front of us, wandered up and down the stationary tube, and then left by another train that had arrived on a platform we were on.

Still our view was obscured. I heard a mother with three children, one of the few families I saw there, say ‘this whole thing has been organised against children’ – a sentiment I couldn’t disagree with; especially as she was unsure whether her two boys would get a look at the steam train. Eventually, we were let on the stationary tube so we could peer through the windows at the piece of railway heritage on the next line. It was ridiculous really. You weren’t able to take descent photos because of the glare from the glass; you weren’t able to even see much because of the people cramming by the windows; and awe and wonder was in generally short supply. Then, I heard the crying from down the train; one of the children who had waited couldn’t see it.

No way to see much, if any of the steam train.

The steam train was only at Moorgate for about an hour and half. Would it have been so hard for TfL to cordon of one side of the platform for that short time, have the barrier patrolled, and remove the tube train so that all, not just dignitaries, could see the steamer in all its splendour? Would that have been so hard? In the end I came away with numerous blurry photographs and lots of reflection from the window. Unsurprisingly, most around me had exactly the same grumble.

All in all, a steam engine on the underground was a wonderful thing; and those who got the special service running should rightfully be congratulated. But I am sorry to say that as someone who has paid for the journey through may underground fares, who loves the tube and is interested in railway history, it seemed that unless you were lucky enough to have a ticket to ride or were a dignitary, you were a burden to TfL; not worthy of suitable attention or information. Overall, I came away feeling cheated; I had paid £18.90 topping up my Oyster, had waited over four hours in the cold, all for limited return. Therefore, TfL take note; you claimed this event was for those who live and work in London; yet you created a reality that was quite different.

An alcoholic journey home...

The relationship between alcohol and travel is not one that I think anyone thinks about that much. I am, of course, talking about the attempts by the inebriated to negotiate the joy that is an integrated transport network after a night out and 6 beers down the hatch. I write with experience. On Wednesday night I made three of the most fatal errors the stumbling, bumbling, alcohol infused, London commuter can make. These were, firstly, walking around a large unfamiliar tube station for an unspecified time, then getting on the wrong train and, lastly, failing to check out with my Oyster card at my destination. Does the level of shame rank alongside whoofing down a whole chocolate orange when I got home...possibly. Actually why am I laying out the whole sorry story in my blog? I suppose to give the entry a point I'll end with some analytical observations, but I may just get there and give up, the shame bearing down on me like a massive cask of ale. Well, here goes.
After a pleasant evening at my monthly Humanist meeting I left with a couple of friends and headed to King's Cross-St Pancras tube station to make my way home. On the journey we passed the Gothic St Pancras station. Alcohol always tends to make me more in awe of the building, I also could, if I didn't hold my tongue, talk about it for a couple of hours. So we passed with my usual thoughts swishing round my head, 'its a temple of railways,' 'a testament to the industrial age' and quickly followed by 'shut up David, no one cares,' and so we headed down to the tube station, went through the barriers and said our goodbyes. It was at this point that alcohol had its first joke of the evening with me, which a quick glance at the map would have remedied. My beer addled brain forgot that King's Cross is not on the same branch of the Northern line as Waterloo and I gleefully went down to the Northern Line station.

By this time, I think it was about 10.55, I could see that time was pressing as the Hampton Court train left Waterloo at 11.30. Now if I'm right I must have been wondering around the depths of King's Cross for about 10 minutes. I dunno really, time slowed down, sped up, came into existence and went out of it. I somehow found myself on the southbound Victoria Line platform which, ironically, was the correct one for getting to Vauxhall where I could also join the Hampton Court train. But alas I didn't take the opportunity handed to me by fate. So I followed the signs to the Northern Line and then, for some inexplicable reason (I'm going to venture it was a portal in the space-time continuum) I again found myself on the Victoria Line southbound platform. Fate struck again, I again spat in its face. I pootled off, right-royally confused, to find the Northern Line...again

I did this quickly. But in my joy I again failed to look at a map and got on the first Northern line southbound train at about 11.05. This, for a railway enthusiast and historian, was an inexcusable action. I was on the wrong train. When it comes to railways I should have no problem with getting on the right train, and in my inebriated state I can usually spout endlessly about the railways, describe locomotives and get home OK. This said, it was railway knowledge that saved me. Angel is the first station on the Bank branch of the Northern Line and as it was read out there was a a few moments of realisation that I had to sit through. “Am I...yes I...Oh Dear God!” Now my options were open. Either I could go back to King's Cross and chance it on the Victoria Line, or I get a connection to the other branch of the Northern Line and attempt to reach the train at Waterloo. At this point I would like to say that if TfL ever think of making a tube map which shows the journey times between stations, I'd support it. Now I am not saying I'd have been able to use it on Wednesday, given my state, but at least it might have helped a bit. Anyway. I took the former choice and managed to get to Vauxhall at 11.32.

I like to run. It is a past-time of mine. However that morning I had done a 2-hour one. Yes, I think I have the mind of a lunatic, but I like it. Anyway I figured at 11.32 that this would leave me between 1 and 2 minutes at Vuaxhall to get up the stairs, through the barriers, into the station and onto the train. Therefore I did my second run of the day, much against my will. I reached the train, panting and puffing, with literally seconds to spare. With all the failures of my journey home, you would think that this small success would allow me to be free of trouble for the rest of it. To my surprise the barriers at Vauxhall railway station were open, thus allowing me to reach the train in time. However, I'm a good commuter, and slapped my Oyster on the reader to 'touch in'. The problem was when I woke the next morning, with more than a slight headache, I remembered the alcohol had had one last victory. I had failed to touch out at Hampton Court, costing me a good £6.

So this is my tale of woe. Therefore I suggest that TfL, South West Trains and you, the reader, consider the following point. While TfL have banned alcohol on public transport, except when it is being carried inside someone, how much has it earned them through people getting on the wrong train and having to take other modes of transport home, or by individuals forgetting to touch out their Oyster and being charged the full fare? Surely TfL should quantify how much it may be earning them and encouraging alcohol consumption? Of course I say this with my tongue firmly in my cheek, but it is an interesting thought that in some way the alcohol industry is an indirect contributor to the public purse.