London is such a big city with a population of just under 10 million that one would expect people with a timetable to keep, such as train drivers, to be just jobsworths interested in fulfilling their work duties.
I heard a couple of decades back that bus drivers got penalised not just for being late (happens easily with the horrendous traffic jams, exacerbated by road works), but for being early as well (so they have to hang back and idle away the minutes at a bus stop if that happens). I know being too early also messes things up for others, with people arriving on time to find their bus has gone, so it’s a fair enough system, penalising both ways.
Well, train drivers don’t have traffic jam problems (although they do have problems with signals, I know from experience), and they can perhaps catch up on lost seconds or minutes by speeding up a bit in between stations. They mightn't be able to just go faster to make up for lost time, though, as there might be a speed cap built into the trains for safety in case a driver goes a bit speed-crazy.
People tend to complain officially when things go wrong but less often write in when things go well.
I want to put that right a little bit with this blog about two train drivers who’d been kind enough to this absent-minded old lady, taking a few seconds of their timetable to ease her journey.
The first one was at Upper Holloway London Overground station a few months ago.
I’d just tapped in my Freedom Pass (old people’s free travel pass) when I saw that my train was already sitting at the platform. I took the first opening in the railings on my right, which turned out to be a ramp for wheelchairs and prams.
What I didn’t see at that point was that the ramp is very long, as it has to slope gently downwards, therefore needs to zig zag a few bends before it reaches the platform level.
As I took my first few steps down the ramp, the driver (a black chap), who could see how long a distance (and therefore time) it was going to take me to reach the platform, which meant I’d miss his train, stepped out of his cab and waved to me, pointing at the stairs (second opening in the railings on my right). So I backtracked up the ramp and took the stairs instead.
When I got to my destination, I made a point of standing in front of the driver’s cab, and waved and mouthed a “thank you!” at the driver through the tinted glass, even though I couldn’t see him. (I’m sure he’d have seen me as drivers have to keep their eyes on the platform to make sure everything is all right before they take off.)
The second episode was just last week at Stamford Hill London Overground station, two bus stops away from me.
It was only my second time catching a Cheshunt-bound train from there to Southbury further north, where I was going to do a massage. I went and stood at where the head of the train would be, from my first experience of taking a train from there.
It turned out to be a shorter train this time, shorter by about two carriages. Being the daydreamer that I am, often in my own little world thinking up ideas for teaching, e.g., I didn’t notice that the train had stopped short of where I thought it would be. The driver honked to alert me, and gave me time to run back down the platform. So sweet. (How many people get honked at by a train driver, except for misdemeanours, I ask you?!)
Two episodes of personalised service rendered by two compassionate train drivers who used their humane common sense and saved an old lady missing their train and having to wait for another 20 minutes for the next one.
They are a credit to their profession and to the human race as a whole. Also a credit to their parents.
(London, 2024)
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