My Day, by James The Gill (aged 22 and 354 days)
Note: this is copied directly from my blog, so may include injokes that I've forgotten to edit out.
After a long, strenuous day at work I got the train up to London to meet Matt. Deciding against a quick zone 1 we got on the Jubilee line and headed eastwards to scout out a few stations where we would need to change over - previous to this all my research had been done from this very chair online. Scouting done, we retired to a lovely pub underneath the railway line to Fenchurch Street station for food and to discuss the team name for our trio (Jack was to join us later). Continuing my theme of "tenuous puns based upon station names" I suggested Back In Blackwall, Bend It Like Beckton and the custardy "Devons Road how they make it so creamy". It was decided that we'd go for the latter. After food we made our way to Poplar to meet up with everyone and begin the route posturing.
As we had 10 minutes to kill at Blackwall Jack bought a travel card and I emptied my bladder against a lift; I wasn't sure when the next chance for that would be.
From Blackwall we proceeded Eastwards, along the newest branch of the railway in the late afternoon sunshine. Following the curve of the river past the East India dock conversation turned to the ample charms of Maggie Gyllenhaal - I can't quite remember how that came about, and what relevance it has is lost on me, but it is a nice thought anyway. As we departed Canning Town Ace of Spades began to blare out from my pocket and I had an interesting, albeit brief, conversation with an Asian gentleman called Patrick who insisted that my life would improve drastically if I bought home insurance from him.
The south side of the Royal Docks is the latest part to undergo this regeneration brought about by the DLR and it was obvious - luxury flats cheek by jowl with disused factories. We also passed the Tate & Lyle factory, and I was momentarily distracted by the large tin of Golden Syrup on the side of the building. A sighting of the Thames Flood Barrier moved the conversation to the recent weather we've been having, and the relative difference between tidal floods and lots of sodding rain. At London City Airport most of the carriage emptied, so we steadied ourselves for the big run, which is more or less
this route except we went along Woodman Street rather than Albert Road, and did the roundabout anticlockwise as we were on foot.
On our reconnaissance run earlier we had already realised that we can make it in time for the scheduled train without busting a gut running, so we took it at a steady pace. The first part, up until the end of Woodman Street, was spent jogging rapidly. As the road started to move uphill from there we walked briskly on for the next part, up until we crossed the first bridge. At this point Jack pointed out the sunset, and I took a picture of it - first accidentally taking a picture of Jack's ankle. We jogged again from this bridge to the next, dodging aeroplanes that were coming in to land at the airport. Downhill from the second bridge we were making excellent time (and on another day we could make the run in seven minutes) so ambled our way down, discussing our lack of fitness. Just as we got on to the platform at Gallions Reach station we saw the train rounding the final curve and pulling in - we'd made the train, and without the need for defribulators afterwards!
Up to Beckton for a quick doubleback, and returning to Gallions Reach we went under the road to nowhere - there were no talking heads, or indeed subways, but you can see it
here. Unfortunately at Gallions Reach our carriage was taken over by large numbers of screaming kids, so any attempt at decent conversation was out. We passed a pub which would be great for meetups if it wasn't so bloody far out the way, and started preparing ourselves for the changeover at Canning Town. The plan was to change to the Jubilee line at Canning and head north to Stratford. Because of the layout of the station, the platform we needed to get to was directly below the one we pulled in on, and the escalators were directly outside the carriage doors. Piece of cake, surely?
Well, no. Owing to problems earlier the Jubilee line was about as stable as a bridge over the Mississippi. As we leapt heroically from the carriage our route down the escalator was blocked by a chav mum with a double buggy and three screaming brats. I would have sold my grandmother for a taser right about then. We made it to the train to see the doors close in our face and the train depart. Luckily the platform indicator indicated that the next train would only be 1 minute; unluckily this was a London Underground minute, which can take up to 240 seconds. We willed the tube to go faster to Stratford.
Upon exiting at Stratford we crossed to the other side of the platform to avoid running into people. Barreling hell for leather we passed another team doing the opposite route as we were, and strolling leisurely to the train. Through the ticket barrier and up the stairs to the mezzanine floor, we made it to the brand spanking new platforms to find...a five minute wait. Bugger. Failing to get the first Jubilee train had cost us dearly, and a decent time was looking out of the question. We milled around on the station, lapping up the sun and making the most of a rest, before getting on the train when it arrived. A change at Poplar was scheduled, to get the next westbound train to Bank.
At Poplar, Jack and myself kept ourselves amused by combining tube station names and song titles before we realised that the next westbound train was to the other city terminal at Tower Gateway. This proved to be a blessing in disguise, as the connection was infinitely easier. At Tower Gateway we shot out of the station like bats out of heck, nearly coming a cropper down the stairs when I stumbled and nearly went arse over tit. Luckily I regained my footing and we sprinted across the main road, avoiding another coach (just like the Aldgate run on z1 day), passing one of the few remaining chunks of the Roman city wall. Hurtling onto the platform we saw a train waiting and leapt on it.
We leapt off it again when it was helpfully pointed out that the train just pulling in would be leaving first (again, a bonus from Tube staff) and got on the right one. By sheer coincidence we got off at Monument in the right place for the stairs and ran down these, along a corridor passing a busker playing Metallica's Fade To Black, down some more stairs and onto the platform to find...an 8 minute wait for a train to Lewisham. Knowing that we didn't need to do any more running we slumped to the ground and rested.
The train to Lewisham was packed, despite it being half past 8 at night. As we passed Herons Quays station I commented on all the water around the area.
"Wouldn't it be sensible to make this area into docks?"
"Yes," Jack replied. "This would make a fine land of docks."
"Would we not need a transport infrastructure though?"
"How about a railway?"
"Aha! Genius! But a normal railway might be too heavy..."
"How about a light railway then? But what to call it..."
"I've got it! We could call it...the Light Land of Docks Railway!"
It's possible that we scared people.
Passing through Crossharbour we saw the site of the old London Arena, where I saw Rammstein 5 years ago (blimey, was it really that long?) and entered the area known as Millwall. I was wearing a Gillingham shirt at the time, and felt well 'ard, me. We dipped under the river and came up in Greenwich (passing the bonfire formerly known as the Cutty Sark) and willed the train to go faster and finish below two hours. Unlike the zone 1, where we had a relatively short final run of two stations, this was the longest journey on the DLR and felt like a bit of an anticlimax. Despite asking the conductor nicely if he'd let me drive the train, we crawled in at a respectable, but personally disappointing time of 2 hours, 1 minute and 15 seconds.