Archive: Dundee

At this time of year, it is often best to leave petrolheads alone. They may be tetchy. Perhaps they are a bit zombie-like.

This section of the Formula 1 season, in mid-autumn, is the part that contains a lot of the “flyaway” races that take place in Asia. This means getting up at ridiculous hours, all for our fix of watching cars go round in circles for a couple of hours. This section of flyaway races, and the one that comes at the start of the season, truly is a feat of endurance.

This year at work, I have ended up with lots of holidays to use up before Christmas. I have decided to use a lot of them around these flyaway races to help me cope with the unsociable hours. It is working out fairly well — I might plan my holidays around the concept next year!

But here is the thing. Is getting up ridiculously early to watch the grand prix taking our devotion to the sport too far? Lukeh has just published a post about his inability to explain this behaviour to his colleague.

This is just adding to the thoughts I have been having about whether it is time for me to relax my policy of trying to watch as much F1 action as possible live, rather than recorded. Is it such a big deal if I swap ridiculously early mornings for a nice long lie in and the comfort of watching the race whenever I want?

The appeal of watching it live

Since I originally got into F1 back in 1996, I can only have missed a tiny amount of races. There was the 2000 United States Grand Prix, which ITV neglected to broadcast live on a proper channel, leaving us with a late-night extended highlights show. There may have been one or two other races that I have failed to see, but I don’t think so. Naturally, if I can, I watch a race live — and qualifying too. And practice if I can get away with it!

It is easy to understand why watching the race live would be preferable. For one thing, nothing beats the thrill of seeing events unfold in front of your eyes as they happen. You just don’t get that feeling if you’re watching the highlights later in the day.

It’s also pretty cool to have Twitter open and to chat with fellow fans about the sport we love as the event itself is taking place. And for me, watching the race and qualifying with live timing open is an absolute must. The onboard channel is another nice bonus. Anyone who has seen the set-up I use to watch races knows about my need to have data as the race unfolds. These options wouldn’t be available if I had recorded the race.

I suspect that one of the reasons I became interested in F1 was that it gave me an excuse to stay up late and get up at exotic hours when I was young, when I otherwise wouldn’t have been allowed to. I became hooked to the sport during 1996, but I have very fond memories of staying up to watch the 1997 Australian Grand Prix, when ITV had a full night of special programming celebrating their first race since winning the rights.

I am sure there is a fair bit of chest-beating as well. Putting ourselves through this sleep deprivation is like earning a badge of honour. F1 fans can often be seen boasting about just how much of the action they have seen live and how little sleep they have had. It is easy to get sucked into this mindset. I tell my friends with pride, expecting them to be impressed — but they only react with shock and disgust.

This is before we have even gone into the traditional argument in favour of watching live. What if you accidentally find out the result? Can you spend the day without living in utter fear of somehow overhearing what happened?

Would it be all that bad to miss the race?

I am not yet contemplating missing a grand prix entirely. But I am beginning to wonder if recording a race and watching it later would actually be good for my soul. I have a reputation among some of my friends — none of whom are all that into F1 — of being a tad too dedicated to watching F1, even if it means getting up ridiculously early.

This weekend’s Korean Grand Prix could possibly be the first race in a couple of years that I haven’t seen live. Not since I had to work on Sundays, at the late, great Woolworths, have I failed to watch a race live.

Tonight, I am staying overnight at a friend’s home in Dundee, as we are celebrating her birthday. Of course, this sort of thing comes first — so I am sacrificing the grand prix that takes place early on Sunday morning.

But I would by lying my arse off if I didn’t confess that I have been thinking of ways to consume the race live. Setting the alarm and surreptitiously getting up to watch the race at 6am would probably be socially unacceptable in the extreme — even if I use headphones and turn the brightness down!

In this case, is it worth listening to it on the radio if I can’t access pictures? Perhaps even watching it on the Softpauer iPhone app could be a good substitute?

I somehow doubt it. The sensible option is therefore to chill out, remain calm, sleep through it and do my level best to avoid any spoilers until later in the day when I can watch the race by myself at home without disturbing anyone else.

I am not sure that my friends are all that impressed with the sacrifice I am making though!

I have always struggled to come to terms with the fact that there are so many train stations in between Dundee and Carnoustie. I have never travelled on a train beyond Dundee, so I haven’t seen for myself how close they are to each other. I’ve tried to look at them on Google Earth, but it’s difficult to keep track really.

Anyway, I find it difficult to imagine that there is the need to have this many train stations between two towns that are only about ten miles apart. I mean, what is it? One for each golf course?

Bear in mind that Carnoustie itself has a population of around 10,000. Kirkcaldy has a population of over 40,000 and has only one train station to its name. So I don’t really know what Carnoustie and the wee towns between there and Dundee have done to deserve having so many train stations.

I know that not all of the stations are used all of the time. But sometimes I catch a particular train from Edinburgh that stops at every station on the way, including these obscure ones between Dundee and Carnoustie.

I remember a few months back reading an article on Scotsman.com about a proposal to close the Barry Links train station. According to the article, Barry Links station is only used by 26 passengers per year, despite the fact that a train stops there twice a day.

The community of commenters at Scotsman.com is one of the worst going, and that really is saying something. Commenting on this article, many people abandoned what little common sense they might have.

Several commenters even suggested that the problem with Barry Links was not that there were too many stops there — but that there weren’t enough! It’s certainly a novel take on economics. Nobody uses it, so let’s give them more. And never mind the fact that there are half a dozen other stations within a stone’s throw.

Sense kicks in only around comment #38:

If you were starting with a blank sheet of paper (or were playing Railway Tycoon) you would never in a million year puto a stop at Barry Links, for example. Just because it is there now does’t mean it should be kept. The maintenance cost for that station, per person, most be astronomical.

Keeping it would be nice, in a romantic way but you have to ask whether you would be happy if they were talking about putting new station on that site ? Of course not.

Matt T has a really interesting post outlining the ten most used and ten least used train stations. Golf Street is the least busy train station in the UK, apparently serving just eight passengers in the financial year 2004–2005. Eight passengers in an entire year! And its running costs are £33,000 per year.

Barry Links is not so far behind, with 14 passengers.

With numbers like this, combined with the fact that there are so many other stations nearby, these stations ought to be for the chop rather than being celebrated by the Scotsman.com users, none of whom actually appear to have used either station.

Shrieks about what would happen to the local economy of Barry (if it has one) or the impact on the community don’t really wash, especially since the community itself seems far from enamoured with the idea of boarding a train there.

It seemed to be going so well too. In 2006, Scotland’s rail service was pretty good from my perspective. The route I take — Fife to Edinburgh — is meant to be one of the worst in the country, but I think it is fine.

Granted, I no longer have to go at peak time like I used to. But even so, I thought the service was pretty good. During the day there are usually two or three trains per hour to Edinburgh, which is pretty good going really. Delays seem to be less frequent and carriages seem to be less crowded.

This article from The Guardian also put things into perspective by comparing a Kirkcaldy–Edinburgh journey to other gruelling commutes.

If you are strap-hanging on train lines in England and value the remains of your sanity, look away now. It will do you no good to read about the record 88% satisfaction rates that Scottish rail commuters report, nor the £1.9bn, seven-year programme to introduce extra carriages, longer platforms and new rail lines across Scotland, or that train operators rarely breach their promise that no one should stand for more than 10 minutes. Even a recent BBC Radio Scotland phone-in on commuting struggled to find hair-raising stories. In fact, several callers bandied words such as “excellent” and “very comfortable”.

It’s true really. Things on Scottish trains have been quite good. And the current work going on at Edinburgh Waverley station serves as a constant reminder of the improvements that are being made. I was also becoming sympathetic towards First ScotRail for always being blamed even for things outwith their control.

But it seems as though ever since that article was published it’s been all downhill for Scotland’s rail passengers. The brand new trains that First ScotRail have been buying over the past couple of years are now developing more faults.

I’ve heard some slightly concerning noises, which is nothing much to report in itself. But a couple of weeks ago I was on a train that was late because of “poor engine performance”. The week before that I experienced a bit of a rarity — a train completely failing and being cancelled.

Now, after that period where we were getting loads of new trains, I’ve noticed some increasingly colourful liveries around the place. So we are now getting lots of other train companies’ second hand trains.

Apparently First ScotRail had lots of trouble with peak time Fife Circle services earlier this year. Major signalling failures, particularly at Haymarket, occur far too frequently.

More than one recent derailment at Waverley Station is also a slightly worrying record. And the fact that a heavy freight train found itself heading towards a passenger train is downright scary.

(There have also been some moans on other blogs, here and here.)

Sure, not all of these incidents are the fault of First ScotRail. A lot of the blame seems to rest on Network Rail. There are a few unacceptable problems creeping in for whatever reason, particularly at Edinburgh.

Now there is the strike that is currently taking place. Of course, neither First ScotRail nor Network Rail seem to be particularly to blame for this. That accolade goes to Bob Crow, who appears to have unilaterally ripped up an agreement which was almost reached on Monday. He comes across as power crazy. Mr Crow really must have a massive boner thinking about all the disruption he has caused to the “ordinary working man” today.

I feel the need to defend trains as a form of transport. As I woke up this morning I was listening to the morning phone in on Radio Scotland. It might have been my not-yet-properly-awake early morning head fuzz, but I am sure I heard some woman saying that she had booked a train for the first time in years today, and she will never be taking the train again after today’s strike.

That is a bit of a silly attitude if you ask me. So signal men go on strike on the one day she happens to have booked a train. It is a piece of bad luck, but it is hardly as though railways are particularly susceptible to strike action. I mean, what the hell is she going to do the next time bus drivers strike or something? And then air traffic controllers? With a stubborn attitude like that, she’ll be marooned in whatever wee dump she lives in for the rest of her life.

I have to say, even this bare-bones train service is pretty good. The train I normally take on a Wednesday morning is usually packed out, but today it was almost deserted (this was before the strike began at noon). I got a normal train back in the middle of the afternoon, and it was as if nothing had happened! (Mind you, I dread to think what the last train was like.)

Tomorrow we will still be getting a train an hour (or maybe two; I’m not sure if I’ve read information correctly) between Fife and Edinburgh. It is a step down from what we are normally used to, for sure. But if demand remains as depressed as it was today, it will be no big problem.

What is a real bummer is the fact that I am planning to go to Dundee tomorrow for a friend’s 21st, and there are no trains going any further than Markinch. This is the first time I will have done anything vaguely fun since new year. I am already making a few sacrifices for it (although I am determined to go, for the sake of my sanity — I’ll burn out otherwise).

It is very annoying for this to coincide with the strike. I will have to take the bus. I absolutely hate buses. They are uncomfortable, full of neds and they always take bloody ages. They are subject to road congestion. They are far less safe than trains. And they are expensive. And I always bash my head on the ceiling when I sit down!

Apparently there are no direct buses from Kirkcaldy to Dundee. You have to get a bus to Glenrothes first. And it takes about two hours. I don’t really have enough time tomorrow as it is. What a pain! Imagine if the trains were always off.

Wow, it’s all been even more hectic than I had expected. I’ve got lots that I could write about, but I don’t really have the energy, so I’m reduced to writing a banal post about the weather and my feet. You have been warned.

Firstly, the wind yesterday was fantastic! I was eating my lunch in the Meadows at the time. I love a good wind. It can be off-putting, but it’s good fun. Not very easy to eat your lunch in though. I couldn’t believe how strong the wind was. It blew my (rather heavy) bag around! Apparently the wind was just as good in Kirkcaldy, but my brother says that there was no wind in Dundee. Yet another reason to avoid Dundee. :P

Couldn’t believe how hot it was today. I thought summer was over and that it would be safe to wear a black t-shirt again. Unfortunately not. It was absolutely horrendous. I’ve had a headache all day and the excessive heat hasn’t helped it.

I think I maybe walk too quickly. Particularly with my right leg. I don’t understand why my right foot would be walking faster than my left foot, but all of the evidence points to it. Or at least I lean harder on my right leg or something. My right shoe usually gets worn down more quickly, and my right foot is beginning to hurt. There’ll be a blister soon enough. The same happened last year when I started university again. Now my right thigh is getting sore aswell.

Maybe I do walk too quickly. I definitely walk faster than most people because I find myself barging my way past everybody in the street. This is especially problematic because of the road works which have turned the High Street into a narrow maze. Lovely to see that Hibs fans still manage find the space to spit on the Heart of Midlothian though.

Anyway, I don’t really see the point in walking slowly. Even if I know it will save my leg, it feels like such a waste of time. I absolutely hate it when I’m stuck behind a slowcoach on the pavement. I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t because if I barge past them then that would be rude, but if I slow right down it’ll seem like I’m listening in to their conversation. Not that I ever do such a thing, of course.

Besides, my doctor told me that walking quickly is one of the best things I can do exercise-wise. Might as well keep fit while I’m making laborious journeys, eh? While we’re on laborious journeys, walking quickly also means that I can catch a later train into Edinburgh and an earlier train back to Kirkcaldy — an important psychological goal. If you’re having a bad day, missing the train can be one of those moments that turns you from being mildly annoyed into obsessively listing everything that’s gone wrong with the day.

Today, despite the still-lingering cough, the tiredness, the headache and the horrible weather, I caught the 17:10 Dyce train — a real bonus, because you don’t really get a faster train than that.

There is a highly amusing video doing the rounds at the moment. It explains public toilet etiquette, which is one of the most important things for a male to understand. This also reminds me of The Urinal Game — although it’s clearly not a game; it’s an issue of immense importance.

Apparently women’s public toilets are quite nice places where people have a general chitty-chat. But men’s public toilets are places of fear and suspicion. If somebody speaks in a male toilet, it is practically the start of World War III. I suppose this is because the chances of being buggered are much lower in a women’s toilet.

The rules are fairly simple:

  • No eye contact
  • Don’t use a urinal if it’s next to a urinal that somebody else is using unless it is strictly necessary to do so
  • Never, under any circumstances, speak — not even to a good friend

They are kind of unspoken rules. You don’t even consciously follow the rules. You only become aware of the rules when somebody breaks them. This happens a lot in pubs. Picture it. I’m standing there taking a leak, and some drunkard comes in making some small talk about the weather or something as though we were in the queue at Tesco rather than holding our penises.

The thing to do here is to finish your piss as quickly as possible, and do everything in your power to end the conversation quickly. There’s no time to wash your hands. Just go. As quickly as possible. Inform your friends of the man who started a conversation in the toilets. Everybody agrees that it’s just not on.

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