So, I finally managed to get a video together! That’s despite various technical failures and almost zero spare time – thank new magazine Rolls-Royce and Bentley Driver for that. Sure, I recorded it a few weeks ago, but hey, it’s live. Right here! Enjoy. Stick with it. Contains snow.
Buoyed by the rampant success of my first post, which an entire 32 people have read, I shall continue my travelogue.
My good friend helpfully guided me to the right platform at Acocks Green train station, and the next stage of my journey began.
The seats were green and the propulsion was via diesel engine and ZF automatic transmission. Yes, further travel by torque converter.
Only for two stops though. I was deposited at Solihull. I like Solihull, but this was my first visit to the train station. It’s from. So grim that while I attempted to consume a Ginsters sausage roll, a lady who worked there struck up a conversation with a passenger about how much the toilets stank. I was forced to halt my sausage roll consumption. I no longer felt hungry.
Salvation rolled into view.
This wasn’t quite as luxurious as I’d hoped, but was comfortable enough. The seats also didn’t hurt my eyes. The gentle thrum of diesel engine was very relaxing, in a way the dreadful noise machines of Arriva Trains Wales just are not. Most passengers fell asleep, including one who was reading a musical score.
We arrived in London, where fear was impossible to find.
There you are. London, yesterday. As we rattled along the underground, I marvelled at how those Arriva Trains Wales noise machines actually seem quite refined compared to this. I’m not sure the London Underground is actually legal under the Geneva Convention.
At Elephant and Castle, only one lift was working, so I gamely tackled the 111 steps to the surface. I was out of breath by the top, where I discovered that Thameslink trains were in chaos due to signalling faults. I was told to jump on the train arriving at platform four, only to then be told that it was actually arriving at platform two.
I wasn’t actually sure where this train was going, so consulted the Cityplanner app on my phone. From that I was able to deduce that the train was heading to Sutton. I stayed on it, as instructed, and ended up at South Merton as I’d hoped. Not before seeking assurances from another passenger, who I thought was a guard. Oops. I broke the rules of London. He chose another carriage.
From the station, it was a short walk to my Airbnb. Very pleasant it is too, situated on this beautifully quiet road.
That’s not the actual house, but this Golf lover isn’t far away. I detected a whiff of conservative about the house owner, confirmed by a Tory sticker on the fridge. I thought it best to say I was sightseeing at the weekend rather than taking part in a march against leaving the EU. I’m not sure why, but I often find myself reluctant to discuss my day job. Scared of sounding like the car bore I so clearly am?
Anyway, the bed is comfy and the decor marvellously dated. The tea is Earl Grey though, which isn’t really tea at all.
Still, it is cheap, with excellent transport links. I now need to seek breakfast and think about work. Which mostly involves being a car bore. Lovely.
I’m not sure I’ve got what it takes to be a great travel writer, in fact I’m pretty sure I don’t. Here’s an attempt anyway.
I left Wales in my Vauxhall Omega, a little saddened by the fact that the offside heated door mirror was not clearing very sufficiently. The roads curved in their usual, appealing manner and traffic levels were mercifully light.
Eventually, I arrived in Newtown. Alas, passing through this town, which doesn’t seem that new at all, is still very necessary. Oh for the completion of the bypass! I will rejoice. It’s not that Newtown is particularly horrible, just that getting through the place is about as enjoyable as getting through the crowd at a Sex Pistols gig. It’s possible, but smooth progress is unlikely. And you might get a bottle of something unpleasant thrown at you.
To prove my worth as a travel writer, I took an actual photo.
I took this to enable me to work out the economy. It came out at 32mpg. I wish I hadn’t bothered working it out.
I pushed on, with Ken Bruce doing his best to raise my spirits. He did this admirably, with a surprisingly passionate rant about the loss of cricket to pay-only TV during the start of popmaster. I agreed wholeheartedly. Swallowing Sky’s filthy cash has taken cricket away from younger generations.
I digress, as did Ken. Motorway was eventually reached, and my average speed rose. It was so sunny that I actually had the sunroof back, until the noise got too much. The Omega is a peaceful car at a cruise. Wind noise is entirely wrong.
The M6 was in a good mood, and spat me out onto the A38m with no hold ups at all. As I descended into the multi-lane madness of the Aston Expressway, I was reminded of commutes to work gone by. The skyline of Birmingham is interesting, but the inner city limits do not match the flashy grandeur of the centre proper. Brum has got a bit flashy in its old age, but the transformation is the mere magic of a make up artist. Brum is still quite grotty. The underpasses only highlight this. I used to find them exciting as a child. Not anymore. It’s almost as if the city designers thought it better to hide a view of the city from motorists, least they never come back.
Now I had the challenge of remembering how to get to my friend’s house. This meant passing through some of the vibrant, multicultural parts of the city. Second nature to me when I was resident here, but dazzling and different to one who now lives in the Welsh countryside.
I passed through Tyseley, home of much railway excitement and a house my friends used to live in many moons ago.
My reverie was soon cut short though. Unfamiliar with the roads, I found myself in the wrong lane. I put on my left signal and appealed to the motorists of Brum to help me. Mistake. One miserable old codger in a bronze Honda Jazz just pointed at the sign that now told me I was in the wrong lane. In hindsight, mock-applauding him was a mistake. He barged past. So did the 4×4 pick up behind him, also pointing at the sign. Well duh! Of course I’ve seen the sign! It’s how I knew I was in the wrong lane. Oh, for info, this sign is helpfully just after a set of traffic lights, not before. I hadn’t gone blasting past the cars in question either. We were in the same queue at the lights. The road markings are quite invisible when there are cars stopped at the lights, which hardly helped.
I pushed on to Acocks Green, and the surprisingly calm oasis that is my friend’s garden. I have fond memories of many visits here over the past 18 years or so. We had time for a very quick drink, so we headed to a Wetherspoons that we often used to frequent. It was busy, full of those for who have found the reality of life a little short of glamour. Also, it’s good value. We had two teas, and we could squeeze our own bags. I have no complaints at all.
Well, maybe one. I did laugh to see it necessary to have a slippy floor sign mounted beneath the hand dryer in the gents. Naturally, it’s one of those high-power jobs that gives grounds to sue for damage to hearing. It blasts water from your hands, all over the floor. So a sign is necessary. Modern progress eh?
I decided not to take photos of it. Time here was short, and I had a train to catch. To be continued. Possibly. I have more photos. Promise!
I’ve been very pleased to hit 400,000 channel views on YouTube. That’s still pathetically small fry compared to a lot of channels, but for a little hobby, it’s quite pleasing.
It was 3.5 years ago when it all began, when I decided I really wanted to capture my thoughts on driving my first electric car – the Nissan LEAF. It’s a bit cringey to look back, but here it is.
Only 535 views for that one, I’m not sure why it’s so low. Possibly because my audience was pretty small back then, and there are now a zillion LEAF videos on-line. But it wasn’t actually the first video I shot. A fair chunk of time earlier, I actually recorded a video on another Nissan – my Bluebird T12. Buoyed with the pleasing comments on my first video, I then published that one. It has now had over 12,000 views!
That gave me the confidence to really turn things up a notch, so I put a fair bit of effort into my next video, recording the delightful details of my Daihatsu Sirion. It remains one of my favourite cars – it’s just a shame they rot so horrendously.
I’ll stop there though. Continue through my videos and you’ll find vehicles as disparate as the Tesla Model S, Peugeot J7 van and Mitsubishi Pajero Junior. That’s because I adore variety, whether it’s something that was not regarded fondly when new, or an electric super saloon.
So, to mark 400,000 views, I thought a shabby LDV Pilot would be ideal. Thank you for your support. Who knows where this channel will go next?
I spent last weekend at Race Retro in Stoneleigh, Warwickshire. It’s the first time I’ve actually managed to attend, and I feel a bit foolish for leaving it so long. I really enjoyed it.
The above is the view that greets you on arrival. Rally cars you can actually drive for £35. What a gorgeous selection. Certainly, this event is more that just static displays, with live action too, which includes some heroic drivers from the past. Ari Vatenen was certainly on good form.
Here are a few more images from the event.
I’ll certainly be attending next year.
I had a great idea. It went horribly wrong, because of Doris.
The plan was, drive to Coventry, catch a train to London, attend the London Classic Car Show. Then I realised that I knew someone who could service the car while I was away. Bingo!
I left the car in Dave Aspley’s capable hands and he kindly gave me a lift to Nuneaton train station. This is when Doris ruined my day. I asked when the train was due to leave and got a shrug. O asked whether the train to London was on time. I was told that was almost certainly delayed. I was told to wait for further announcements. One came. It was barely audible. I asked the bloke in the ticket office what she said. He said he didn’t know. Great!
Eventually, I was told to get on a train to Birmingham. I did. It drove a mile, then it stopped. For over half an hour. Then it drove back to Nuneaton. The consensus seemed to be to give up on my London plans, so I did. Dave was passing, so he picked me up and continued the service. We found grim things! This is the air filter.
It was so gunked up that the engine was trying to ingest it. Fuel and oil filters were also replaced. Happy car.
Sadly, the filler plug for the differential is seized, which is a shame, as it is leaking. That’ll be the next priority. That and perhaps discs and pads to cure brake judder.
With the car healthy again, I went to Warwick for food.
It was very pleasant. I then went to visit friends Chas and Rachel who have kindly put me up for the night. We’re watching The Avengers. It’s hilarious.
Tomorrow, Race Retro and a rethink of my weekend’s plans.
This collection caper has rather hit the buffers then. I do need to address the diesel leak, because it left this stain while waiting for the test.
Though the snapped rear spring is also a good reason to seek assistance.
Not ideal. I found a couple of garages, but both were too busy. I have now found one a little further away, so I’m hoping they can at least get started on fixing it this afternoon. There will be a break in proceedings though, as they’re busy until at least half three.
To be honest, this problem wasn’t entirely unexpected. I packed clothes for another night away…
More news as I have it!