Sunday, 19 April 2026

Hunters Bog Trot 26

 

I was up early and arrived at the station with 10 minutes to spare. The queue at the coffee stall was 6 deep, so I walked on to the deserted Platform Two and took a seat at the end of the short aluminium bench.   

An older woman sat down 2 seats away on the bench. Her daughter elected to stand outside the refuge on the Platform. ‘Well’, I mused, ‘everyone needs a bit of personal space’. After 2 or 3 minutes the daughter, in her sensible shoes and black jeans, poked her head round the opening and said to her mother ‘I’ve texted you your seat number’, adding, ‘just in case’….. Just in case of what? Was it about to kick off? Unexpected package on Platform Two. Was Travolta slouched in the drivers chair of the this Trans-pennine train wielding a '45? Should I expect to see Denzel leaping up the stairs from the station underpass. 

On the train, the trolley woman announced that she and her trolley were on the train serving teas and coffee. She asked us to make our way down to the rear of the train, Coach E. Surely she should be coming to me?

I navigated my way through the gauntlet of slow moving doors and carriages, inquiring faces peering up from their seats. A sea of faces. Some were already tucking into beers and fizz. It was only 7.30!

Arriving at Coach E, the kitchen door was shut, so I knocked on the window. Trolley lady opened up and was happy to serve me an americano, adding that they only took 'cards' for payment. Wtf. Having lost my wallet earlier in the week I was, the day before, in receipt of two new near identical cards. The bank sent me two. I had tried one of the the new ones in Lidls the previous evening. It had been declined. But what about cash? Nada. 

Armed only with the other, untested card, the question was ‘Did I feel lucky’? Well, do you? ‘.....No’ was the answer and I made my way, coffeeless, back up the train, simmering, with my tail between my legs. So much for promising to pay the bearer on demand.

I became a bit braver in the St James Centre and withdrew money with the other new debit card from the bank. Probably helps if you put in the right pin. It was a slow coffee in a café and then I dropped off my bag and jacket at half eleven in the bus station lockers. Always a worry that the contents won't still be there when you get back.

I jogged the short distance to the HBT race HQ, a gazebo sat at the edge of St Margarets Pond under Arthurs Seat. It became quite busy and there must have been around one hundred runners who eventually lined up in the sun. 

HBT, the self proclaimed ambassadors of dissidence were asking us to scan a bar code thing and complete a digital entry form on our phones. Whats going on? I said 'I'd rather not' and the lady said she would be happy to lend me phone to do it. I took her up on the offer.  We're all getting led down a rabbit hole with nothing good at the bottom. Baah.

After the start I was passed by Des C. who kindly advised me that I was overdressed. I got into the familiar walk-run groove up Whinny Hill and tried to make progress, aiming at the wee group of six around ten seconds ahead. After the first hill, I passed one, but then was passed by another. The grass was dry and gradients forgiving, but the downhills were not in any way technical, so I had to rely on my stubby legs to do the grafting. The second hill which skirted Salisbury Crags was steep but short and before I knew it I was bombing down to the finish. Thirty five minutes. Mr C, who had finished, was jogging up toward me on his warm down. I evidently have work to do before Lomond.

I made a couple of new buddies who were also in my age group. They had come down from Inverness and after collecting my bag and jacket, I made my way to the local Weatherspoons and had a good chat for an hour over a pint and a plate of chips with the lads. 

Getting the train back, I heard the announcement over the tannoy ‘Tea and Coffee are available at the end of the train, Coach E.’  Sat in Coach A again, I couldn’t be arsed.  Trolley services; That’s a joke.  Substandard service? Digital progress? Don't make me laugh!  All in all, a jolly good day out.  

 

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