Trains in Britain run on time

We took an extended weekend trip to Leeds and York in "The North" last week, which was pretty fun. One of the main purposes was to see "Carnival Messiah" at Harewood House, Danielle will write more about that later. We traveled by train both because it was cheaper and so we could see the sheep as we rolled by ... there were plenty, though not as many as I had imagined. Hopefully our next trip to Devon/Cornwall will correct this.

Anyway, Leeds is the self-proclaimed shopping capital of "The North" and has a very pedestrian friendly city center shopping area. It's a former industrial town, but has made the transition much more gracefully than most Rust Belt cities in the US. It doesn't have too many real tourists draws apart from shopping though, best summed up by our housemates reaction when we told them we were going to Leeds: "Leeds? Whatever for?" (said in a wonderfully incredulous British accent)

We stayed in a nearby suburb called Headingley, famous for the Headingley Cricket Ground. We stayed in the stadium. Yes, in the stadium. Danielle didn't quite understand me when I told her I'd found a great rate for a room 'at' Headingley. Let there be no doubt:

Unfortunately, cricket season is over and there wasn't a rugby match until the day we left.

Leeds was fine, but York was much more fun to poke around in ... we spent 1/3 the time in York, but took 3 times as many pictures. It was only 25 minutes away on the train. We walked along old medieval/roman city walls, climbed the bell tower at the huge York Minster cathedral, and poked around lots of medieval alley ways. There were also a lot more tourists and tourist traps than in Leeds ...

Now that you've read the commentary, click below to check out our Yorkshire photo album!

Yorkshire

So I told you that story to tell you this story: On our last day in Yorkshire, we barely made our train back to London. It was exciting. When we booked our train tickets we though we'd spend Saturday night in York for a change of scenery. The York hotel board thought otherwise, having declared that thou shalt not spend Saturday night in York unlest thou hast spent Friday night or thou then procede on to Sunday night. Saturday night alone is right out! I mean nowhere would take a reservation for just the one night. So we extended our stay at Headingley and decided we'd just have to make our way to York on Sunday ...

We were poking around Leeds on Sunday morning, starving since everything was closed until 11am. We felt like we had plenty of time before our train at 3:03, so at ~12:30 Danielle decides she'll just "walk through" this one last store. She emerged at 1:25. We had to catch an emergency taxi back to Headingley to get our bags (fortunately taxis are a lot cheaper outside London) and convince the security guard that we weren't just trying to sneak in to the rugby match without tickets. We arrived at the Leeds train station at 2:08, assuming we could hop on one of the frequent 25 minute trains to York. One left at 2:08, and with Sunday schedules being what they are, the only train left was a local service making all stops on the way to York and arriving at 3:03 ... seen that time somewhere recently? Oh yeah, it's the time our train for London was supposed to leave York. And trains in Britain run on time. The helpful information man's comment was "Well, I hope you don't have advanced tickets." Ha ha.

We tried to see if we could intercept the London train at its next stop perhaps ... except its next stop was London. Danielle and Neisha asked a cab driver how long it took to drive to York, but when we showed up with our bags and urgency suddenly the time estimate went up to 45 minutes we no longer had. At this point, we then had to sprint back into the train station carrying our bags and run up and over to our platform to catch the last hope local train. Barely made that one, and then sat biting our nails for the agonizing 40 minutes to York. As the train approached York, I asked the conductor if he could give us any info that might help us make it somehow ... instead, he radioed in to the station and switched the platform our train arrived at to the one just opposite the one used by London bound trains. Then, as we pulled in, he stopped the train early and let just us off so we could jump across to our train while they pulled all the way into the station. The guy was an angel, and the doors to the London train closed seriously 15 seconds after we darted through them. And that is how we avoided another post entitled "Danielle and the 100 quid sweater" ... The End.