A Shining Light

I arrived at Manchester Airport at 7.30am, hoping for a somewhat easier journey home on the train than the previous time, returning from Lisbon. Alas, it was not to be. Once again, I got to the station to find the ticket and information office closed. The ticket machines were barriered off against use. The one information board displayed a message about adverse weather and warning against travel. That was it. Very helpful. A couple of staff were being mobbed by passengers with trolleys full of luggage, wondering what to do. They had nothing to say other than good luck.

I was eventually told by someone that there'd be no trains to Leeds all day and that I'd be lucky even to get a bus. Better find yourself a hotel. It was then that I walked around in a daze and spotted a rail replacement bus going to Piccadilly station and blagged my way on to that without a ticket. There was no announcement, possibly because there were a lot more passengers than seats on the bus and they wanted to avoid a stampede. From the bus it was obvious that there had been a lot of rain overnight. These things happen. My gripe is with the non-existent communication. I could get no further information at Piccadilly, other than being told I'd be better off going to Victoria. I set off to walk there, a mile through Manchester on an extremely gloomy, damp new year's morning, a lot of homeless people on the street, none of whom, unsurprisingly, had much new year cheer about them.

It wasn't until I got outside Victoria station that I got a smile from Bex and Helen here (the one shining light of Manchester), who were lovely, giving me directions to the bus station if the trains didn't work out. They were genuinely concerned that I wasn't going to get home. The information boards at Victoria weren't very helpful. The one man available at the ticket office was even less helpful. There were no trains to Leeds and he had no suggestion as to what alternatives might be possible.

I was wandering around in a bit of a daze again when I spotted the cancelled 10.10 train to Todmorden had a replacement bus service. I found my way to the bus (actually just a minibus) and quickly grabbed a seat. It was soon full with the driver having to turn passengers away. I still had no idea what would happen from there but at least I'd be closer to home. As it turned out, once at Todmorden station, there was a service to Leeds about to leave - albeit from the wrong platform and without any indication as such, meaning that all of us who jumped on had a niggling worry we were going to be heading back towards Manchester!

It turned out to be the right train and, following a sprint between platforms, connected with the train back to Ilkley. I got home much earlier than expected, but more by luck than judgement and with absolutely no help. It was at least a cheap journey. I never had a chance to buy a ticket along the way and there was no one bothered to check throughout the entire journey!