Robert Hampton

Amidst all the opprobrium that gets hurled at Britain’s railway network, there is one truth that is universally acknowledged: the cost of travel for groups of people often compares unfavourably with the car.

The problem is one of efficiency: a car costs more or less the same to run whether there is one person or five inside it (unless one of your passengers is really fat). On the other hand, the train companies (and bus companies, and any public transport really) expect everyone other than infants to hold a ticket for travel. When travelling on undiscounted tickets, a journey can become prohibitively expensive, even for two people.

Recognising this, in recent years the TOCs have introduced a bewildering amount of special offers for small groups. Depending on your destination, you can choose from Merseyrail’s Family Day Ticket, Virgin Group-e, Northern Duo, GroupSave, and probably a whole load more that I’ve missed.

The only truly national discount offering for this market, until now, was the Family & Friends Railcard, which has existed in one form or another since BR days. £30 will get you a card entitling the holder to 1/3 off adult fares, and 60% off child fares, for a whole year. It’s nowhere near as generous as it was under British Rail’s benevolent nationalised monopoly, when kids got a £2 flat fare, but there are still some amazing savings to be had. One example: an Off Peak Return from Liverpool to London is £79.70 for one adult, but with the railcard, two adults and two children can make the same journey for a total of £135.50 – less than the price of two full adult tickets.

Of course, you have to take a least one child with you, and that causes obvious inconvenience. Usually the little brats are not content to just hang around at the station while you go off to the pub or whatever, and you have to drag them round with you. Then they’ll want to stop at McDonalds for a Happy Meal, and then later get an ice cream which will probably drip all over your expensive shoes. Bah.

Luckily, there is now another option for those without a convenient child to hand: the Two Together Railcard (insert small fanfare here) which launched today. For just £30, two named people can get 1/3 off their train fares for leisure travel – effectively, two tickets for 132% of the cost of one ticket. Using the Liverpool-London example again, the Off Peak Return ticket for two people would cost just £105.20 – saving £54.20.

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GAYS! West Ham footballer Matt Jarvis graced the cover of Attitude in just his pants, because homophobia or something. The usually soppy liberal Observer newspaper got itself embroiled in a transphobia row after a Julie Burchill column caused a Twitter storm.

The big news story of the year was, of course, the UK’s same-sex marriage bill. My old Religious Studies teacher (now MP for Southport) declared that he was voting against it. Despite massive controversy and attempts by rebel MPs to derail it, the bill received Royal Assent in July. I like to think it was my vlog on the subject that swung it.

The UK was behind the curve in many ways, as progress was being made around the world. New Zealand legalised gay marriage in April, an event celebrated by an impromptu outbreak of singing. America, as usual, was slow on the uptake, but a big Supreme Court decision in July was a landmark moment, paving the way for future victories.

Elsewhere, however, gay rights were being rolled back. In Russia, a wrestling coach blamed the lack of wrestling at the Olympics on a gay conspiracy. That was amusing to western ears; less funny was the law against “gay propaganda”, which was enacted amidst a wave of anti-gay violence.

On a more positive note, the events in Russia spurred Wentworth Miller into coming out. In fact, it was a notable year for coming out events: Young Apprentice candidate Harry Hitchens came out via YouTube video. Ben Whishaw confirmed tabloid rumours that he was in a civil partnership. And then there was Tom Daley.

Alan Turing was pardoned for his homosexuality convictions, but where was the sympathy for the thousands of other men who were similarly persecuted?

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So Great Train Robber Ronnie Biggs has died. The robbery has gone down in folklore, thanks to the scale of the initial crime and Biggs’ subsequent escape from justice. Countless books and films have been inspired – the latest is airing on BBC1 as I type this.

I can’t get on board with the recasting of Biggs as a cheeky Cockney geezer, though, because it overlooks the fact that the violent robbery caused lasting effects on two victims in particular: Jack Mills, the train’s driver, and David Whitby, the secondman. Both were treated roughly by the robbers (it has never been established which one inflicted the injuries). Mills was hit over the head with an iron bar, before they were both handcuffed and thrown in the locomotive’s engine room.

Mills suffered Trauma headaches for the rest of his life, and Whitby suffered a fatal heart attack at the age of just 34. Although no direct link was made between the men’s premature deaths and the injuries they suffered, it’s not hard to imagine that the attack would have had a lasting negative effect.

An audacious heist, maybe, but one with two victims who were unlucky enough to be doing their jobs. They’re the dead people we should be focusing on tonight.

Remember back in September when Ian and I rode the Caledonian Sleeper? Well, I finally got around to editing the video footage of our adventure.

This video blog of the trip contains bulging bags, shenanigans in the lounge car, discussion of the merits of top vs bottom, and ill-advised mentions of Michael Portillo.

Leaving Inverness behind, Ian and I set off for home. By extreme good fortune, although we had booked our train tickets separately, the seat reservation system had allocated us seats facing each other across a table. I was glad we had reservations, for the train was busy and became more crowded the further south we travelled.

A variety of personalities all jostled for space. I noticed a teenager wearing iPod earphones, who was turfed out of his seat on three separate occasions during the journey, when the person who had reserved it turned up to claim it. Immediately behind Ian, an American couple had settled in for the long journey to Edinburgh. The wife was reading a tabloid magazine, picking out stories of interest and loudly discussing them with her husband. We heard her opinions on Prince Charles (how could he pick Camilla over Lady Di?) and Simon Cowell (his new baby is a surrogate, like Neil Patrick Harris). Her husband, meanwhile, buried his head in a book called “Whiskeypedia”. By the end of our journey, Ian and I had our eye-rolls perfectly synchronised.

The automatic announcer on the train kept getting out of step with the station stops. For some reason, this seemed to amuse a group of people sitting at a table further down the carriage. Every time it announced the wrong station, gales of laughter were heard.

This train was also notable for the frankly alarming sign in the lavatory. Basically, don’t use this toilet if you have any genital piercings.

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Ian and I probably didn’t see the best side of Inverness. We didn’t arrive until after 5pm, just as the town was winding down for the day. Also, it was still chucking it down with rain, so we eschewed dampness in favour of our comfy hotel room.

The railway station is quite nice, though – a good mix of old and new. The modern concourse is adorned with relics from the Highland Railway past, including a crest honouring the company’s directors.

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I need to start by apologising to Logan, the guy manning the catering trolley on the 8.30 train to Mallaig. Ian and I used that train on both Wednesday and Thursday morning. On the second day, you recognised us, and tried to engage us in friendly conversation. Unfortunately Ian and I were both so struck by your good looks that we got tongue-tied and could only babble the briefest pleasantries while you pumped your hot water urn. Sorry about that, Logan. If it makes you feel better, all you missed out on was some awkward and borderline inappropriate flirting from two men who are roughly a decade older than you. Don’t take it personally. You did a good job and your hot chocolate was very nice.

Where I was I? Oh yes, travelogue…

For the second day in a row, we were heading to Mallaig. This was the last time we would travel on the West Highland Line on this trip, but I already knew I’d be back. I want to visit Arisaig (most westerly station in Britain, fact fans) and Glenfinnan (home to that-viaduct-from-the-Harry-Potter-films and a small railway museum).

Our destination was, once more, Mallaig Harbour. No tiny Knoydart Seabridge this time, however. Instead, we were going to board the Caledonian MacBrayne ferry to Skye. As it was included in the validity of our Highland Rover ticket, it seemed rude not to.

Our plan for the day was audacious in its scope. When Ian first suggested it to me, I thought he was mad. MAD, I tell you. Of course, I went along with it, because I am quite mad too.

First, we would take the ferry to Armadale. From there, a bus would take us to the small settlement of Broadford, where we would change to a second bus to continue over the Skye Bridge to Kyle of Lochalsh. There, we would rejoin the rail network and take a train to Inverness, where we would spend Thursday evening.

There is, of course, a direct bus from Fort William to Inverness which takes a little under two hours, but where’s the fun in that?

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The second half of this blog post is contained over on my Station Master blog. Go there now!

My Highland fling continues over on the Station Master blog, with a visit to Rannoch station.

There are many, many blog posts to come, both here and on The Station Master blog.

It was hard to contain my excitement on Monday afternoon, as I boarded a Virgin train to London. Most people would regard travelling 200 miles south, in order to travel back north again by the same route, as slightly mad. But there was method in my madness: firstly, I was meeting my friend and regular partner in various rail-related adventures, Ian Jones, who was going to join me on the journey. Secondly, I wanted to get the fullest possible experience from ScotRail’s overnight Caledonian Sleeper service.

Neither Ian nor myself are sleeper virgins – we have both, at different times, “done” the Cornish sleeper – the Night Riviera – from Penzance to London Paddington (read Ian’s account here, and mine here). As special as that journey is, it pales in comparison to the Anglo-Scottish services. Sorry, First Great Western, but you are Star Trek Voyager compared to ScotRail’s Next Generation.

After sauntering down to Kings Cross for dinner at the Parcel Yard restaurant, we returned to Euston to begin our adventure. I’ve travelled countless times from Euston, but tonight felt different. There was not going to be an undignified dash to the platform to cram aboard a Pendolino tonight. On the departure board, alongside Watford Junction, Manchester Piccadilly and Tring, was an altogether more exotic train: the 21:15 to Inverness, Aberdeen and – yes! – Fort William.

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