I’ve much to catch up on, such as the vagaries of the freelance world, Railfest, the new camera and also stuff about recent travels. I’ll try and make a start later this week.

One thing that has caught my attention recently has been the bad publicity and media storm the East Lancashire Railway has been caught up in when Fleet St picked up on stories of people parading in (the worst kind of) Nazi uniforms at a recent war event. Previous comments from an offended Jewish couple to the MEN made things worse. All this has been covered in several national newspapers with a circulation of many millions. To paraphrase the old adage ‘you just can’t buy bad publicity like that’

Meanwhile, there’s a very thoughtful, insightful and intelligent open letter by Rabbi Walter Rothschild on ‘Railway Eye’ that preserved railways would do well to pay attention to. The Rabbi is also a railway enthusiast, well placed to understand both sides of the argument. You can find it here if you cut and paste the link:

http://railwayeye.blogspot.co.uk/2012/06/war-crime-on-east-lancs.html

What this storm proves is how out of their depth some preserved railways are dealing with such negative publicity. It seems the ELR’s approach is to be reactive rather than proactive, blaming the media and others for the storm that many observers have seen coming for a long time. The truth is that the responsibility lies with the railways for lax supervision of these war groups, not on the media for reporting what happens after they turn up. Engagement, a bit of contrition and showing a willingness to deal with the problem is a far better tactic for pouring oil on troubled waters than finger pointing or ducking responsibility.

 Like many others I really can’t understand why preserved railways still allow people in Axis uniforms to parade around their railways. They add nothing to historical accuracy but the potential for it all to go ‘Pete Tong’ is huge – and proven (remember the infamous mock execution elsewhere?). The message should be loud and clear, certain uniforms and behaviour is beyond the pale and if people insist on turning up like that they’ll be ejected forthwith.

Perhaps the wiser heads at the Heritage Railway Association should consider issuing guidance to their members on this issue before the next storm hits - as it inevitably will – unless railways get a grip.  

But it could have all gone horribly wrong. A signal failure at Retford was causing delays of around 50 minutes as trains were queuing to get through the area.

But Grand Central had a cunning plan. The train crew had route knowledge which took in the diversionary route via the ‘Lincoln avoider’ and Gainsborough Lea Rd. This allowed us to bypass the blockage. Train Manager Tony Singh did his utmost to keep everyone informed and we passengers enjoyed a scenic diversion through a landscape rich in rapeseed rather than being stuck on the ECML.

Well done Grand Central for keeping up crews route knowledge on useful diversionary routes.

Now, here I am sat in a pub in Earls Court (using their wifi) when the phone goes again. And yes, you’ve guessed it – it’s another old client asking ‘you wouldn’t happen to be free tomorrow by any chance, would you?’

Serendipity comes into play as the shoot is in West London in the afternoon – so now I have jobs back to back.

Sometimes I’m not sure whether I’m a photographer or firefighter...

It’s been a very busy time recently. Rebuilding the website has taken up an incredible amount of time and energy but I feel I’m beginning to get somewhere. It took a backseat last weekend as I was working over in Berlin on the British Military train> it was a fantastic event.  On the Saturday the mighty 03 1010 hauled 15 coaches laden with a large chunk of the BAOR (rtd) plus enough food and drink to have kept the Berlin airlift busy for a day!  The whole exercise was repeated (on a slightly smaller scale) on the Sunday. You can see pictures from the event on the website.

Back in the UK my nose was firmly back against the grindstone, updating the site and trying to get more archive material up before Pikfu went offline yesterday. It’s a shame that the replacement for Fotopic never made it beyond the beta stage but I’m really grateful to Joel Rowbottom for saving my old site and keeping it on-line over the past year and a bit. Without it I’d have been up the proverbial excremental creek without a paddle.

This week it’s back to travelling with a vengeance. I’ve a couple of night in London as I’m in Barking tomorrow to view the first train to arrive in the UK carrying P400 trailers on rail. On Wednesday I’ve a short notice job in London for another freight company. After that I get one night back home before  heading to Hampshire for a long weekend. On Monday I’m in Swindon to look at a venue for an awards ceremony – then I hot-foot it back up North for a day spent catching up with myself before the NRM dinner and the start of Railfest at York.

Phew!

Right, now it really is time to kick back and relax....

Anyways, I managed to get a decent priced flight from Manchester with Easyjet after getting over the shock of finding that Air Berlin wanted to charge me £965! I mean, I just want to fly – not buy the damned plane....

Of course, the problem with the ‘cheap’ airlines is they fly at silly hours to get the cheapest slots (07:20 in this case) so I had to factor in a night at Manchester airport – which is where I’m heading now. I arrived at Halifax to catch the 22:44 to Huddersfield. Whilst I was waiting the last Grand Central service from London rolled in, which felt quite odd as that’s normally the one I’m getting off! Instead, my steed was a 2-car Pacer in the shape of 142064. My inner trainspotter kicked in and noticed the First Great Western seat mocquette which betrayed it as one of the returnees from Devon. Despite the low bus seats it was a quiet and comfortable journey to Huddersfield. I had plenty of time to grab food from one of the local Indian takeaways where I was the only customer. As they cooked my veggie samosas the staff were keen to chat. I must’ve entertained them because they presented me with a free can of coke in one of those random acts of generosity that make the world a brighter place. The warm glow generated was quickly extinguished back at the station. I’d plugged my laptop into one of the 6 power points by the seats in the waiting area – only to be threatened by the cleaner ‘don’t let the RO2 catch you using them – you’ll be thrown off the station’. I wonder if TPE know that such a petty attitude exists amongst staff at Huddersfield? I wouldn’t mind, but there are 6 sockets right next to the seats with no notices saying ‘not for public use’ – what are we meant to think when sockets are provided on their trains?

I was glad when the 23:56 rolled in as I knew the welcome would be a bit warmer. In fact it was the quietest TPE service I’ve been on for ages. The mixed bag of 15 punters in the lead car was mercifully quiet, leaving me to type undisturbed. It was a silence that lasted all the way to Manchester where it became stronger as train went into ‘eco-mode’ - shutting down the engine under our car. The only sound left was a gentle ‘tap tap’ as I worked away at the keyboard.

All this silence proved to be good preparation for the airport. Now, I’ve visited far too many across the globe but none prepared me for Manchester. I’d hoped for a comfortable place to sit with at least a coffee shop or something nearby. What I hadn’t anticipated was Terminal 1. Essentially it’s a row of check-in desks smeared along the side of a multi-storey car park – and that’s your lot. No shops, certainly no coffee shops. Bugger-all really, unless you count the cash machine offering you money you can’t spend anywhere. There’s not even anywhere to sit. Frankly, it’s crap. When I compare this to one of the modern railway palaces like St Pancras or Kings Cross it’s easy to see why the railway is in renaissance. As I type this I’m sat on the floor in a deserted building bereft of an amenity that’s about as welcoming as an abattoir. It’s going to be a long night. Now, if you get to read this – at least their offer of 30 mins free wifi was kosher.* 

I’ll try and post more from Germany but it’s going to be a busy few days on the British Military Train. So, if I were you I’d look out for the pictures instead. After all, one’s worth a thousand words...

*It wasn’t. The bloody wifi kept throwing me out of my website. You can’t access anything that takes more than the brainpower of an amoeba.

Pt 2 to follow...

 Last Monday was a long day which started in Halifax, took in both the East and West coast main lines via London and ended up in
 a deserted town in the Midlands famous for its public school: Rugby.

What Rugby doesn't seem to be famous for is celebrating St George's day. OK, it was a wet Monday night, but honestly - I've seen
 more life in a tramps vest. I needed wifi access so I ventured into town to find the nearest Wetherspoons - which was deserted as
 barely a dozen people bothered to darken its doors. In fact, when  I left at 22:00 there were just three punters. 

But then, it had been one of those days...
 
I’d set off on the 0707 Grand Central service from Halifax amidst a sea of reservation labels that soon translated into live punters.
 Anyone who thinks the West Riding service is struggling should try travelling on it! The crew told me that it's not unusual for this first
 Southbound service to carry 250 plus punters. I bumped into GC’s Sean English onboard. He reckoned that the first WR service is
 loading better then the same one off Sunderland. It’s more profitable too as around 80% of sales are ‘GC only’ tickets.  

This was the easiest bit of the day’s travels. Network Rail’s Twitter postings prepared me for the fact that  WCML services had turned
 to ratshit due to an 'incident' at Berkhampsted. London Midland staff were less coy and tweeted that it was really a fatality - so I knew
 what to expect at Euston. To be fair the railways did really well. Yes, there were some cancellations but information was plentiful and
 the vast majority of passengers jammed on the concourse were stoic. I’d no room for complaint. I’d booked online and my single 
ticket from Euston to Long Buckby was ridiculously cheap at £3.75.  

We left London 20 minutes late which wasn’t bad considering the problems.  Everything was going well until the driver announced that
 we’d be terminating at Northampton. I appreciated why they did it as there were other services just behind we could transfer to and the
 delay, whilst mildly inconvenient didn’t make a huge difference. From Long Buckby I enjoyed a bracing ‘yomp’ across to the M1 to take
 up position on a bridge where  you can get shots of both the railway and motorway. Only the weather didn’t play ball, leaving me trying
 to capture Pendolino’s (which were going like shit off a shovel) under murky skies between rain showers. The light was so bad that if
 I hadn’t got a Nikon D3 I’d have just given up. I was also happy I’d decided to take a full set of waterproofs - otherwise the only thing I’d
 have caught would’ve been pneumonia!

After a few hours the weather changed from showers to a dull, dispiriting deluge which caused me to seek refuge in the canal side pub at Buckby Wharf where I dried out and downloaded all my pictures before walking back for the train to Rugby and a warm hotel room. It was a frustrating day for pictures but at least I got a good walk out of it!

Pt 2

Another early start with breakfast at 07:30 saw me return to Buckby Wharf. The weather had changed from dull, wet and miserable to sunny and rather pleasant – which was great for photography but the power hike out to the M1 caused me to strip down to a T-shirt and jeans to the steam rise. Striding out with a rucsac and a camera bag weighing 13 plus kilos soon burns up the calories!

The sun hung around long enough to allow me a variety of shots and shoot what I’d come to do - as well as play around with different locations as the light changed. For once the waterproofs stayed buried in my rucsac. It was a lovely day as there was no disruption, no fatalities and I didn’t get soaked, so, after a celebratory pint in the New Inn I began the trek home, firmly believing that all’s well with the world.

The world, however, had other ideas...

My cunning plan was to return to Rugby to get a few shots before heading back into London. Only fate in the shape of 37069) decided otherwise.

At Long Buckby a friendly enthusiast tipped me off that the vintage loco was heading our way and sure enough it growled its way past us in the path of my train to Rugby, allowing me to get a shot. What luck I thought! A few minutes later my train turned up and we set off to Rugby with the guard apologising for the late running which was due to the freight being given precedence. Shortly afterwards we ground to a halt within spitting distance of Rugby where we waited, and waited – until the driver announced we be stuck for some time due to a ‘broken down freight train just in front of us’

Hey, hang on a minute..?

Yep. 37069 had conked out across Hillmorton Junction, stopping the job by blocking in all northbound trains on the Northampton loop. Now my cunning plan looked anything but. As the minutes turned into hours I could see my chances of getting home slipping away. I had to be in London for the 19.48 to Halifax and there was only one train left for me to catch from Rugby. Luckily Freightliner came to the rescue and two of their engines dragged the miscreant out of the way, letting me reach Rugby with 10 minutes to spare. I began to breathe easier until I saw that Virgin’s Euston service was late and getting later by the minute. An announcement explained that it was delayed by trespassers at Coventry. Muttering dire imprecations under my breath I began to plan for an enforced night in the capital. Now, a 10 minute dash from Euston to Kings Cross is possible, but not when you’re a middle aged bloke who’s already done 12 miles carrying the sort of load a camel would spit at.

In the end I was saved by the Pendolino’s shit off a shovel performance I’d complained about yesterday. We were still late but we made up enough time to give me 15 minutes to dash to Kings Cross without danger of a rupture or worse.

I needn’t have bothered.

The East Coast route had suffered two fatalities that day with the final one delaying everything, including my train. The last fraught few hours had been unnecessary as the GC service left around 25 minutes late.Heading North (with a well-earned glass of wine in hand) I took time to think about the events of the past two days and the torrid time that the people who run our railways had ‘enjoyed’ due to breakdowns and fatalities. Breakdowns are part of everyday life; it’s the spate of fatalities that concerned me. They’re chaotic, traumatic and deeply unpleasant – and it looks like we’re seeing more of them. I can only imagine what effect  they’re having on the people who have to deal with them and the families who lose someone. I just wish I knew what the answer was to prevent them.

Still, I hope many of you think that all the time I’ve been spending building this website has been worth it. From my perspective it feels a bit like repainting the Forth Bridge. Oh, double bugger – thanks to advances in paint technology that’s an expression that’s redundant. Soon it’ll join the lexicon of expressions that baffle the young and betray your age.

What has been fun are the diverse jobs I’ve had away from staring at computer screens. Shooting a postal TGV in St Pancras was rather surreal and last week’s ‘Fab4’ event was a masterclass in nostalgia. The boys and girls at Barrow Hill put on a fantastic event. Visiting RVEL's Derby engineering facility was an opportunity to get up close to some interesting engineering kit whilst getting pictures at the new Kings Cross has also been fun as the architecture really allows you to play around with shapes and lighting. The huge amount of work going on around the network this year should keep me just as busy.

Something else that has absorbed my time has been Twitter – which I’ve just discovered. I never really understood how useful it could be now I’m a convert.  You can find me there as ‘PaulBigland1’

Right, enough of this time wasting, it’s time to get back to work!

We resisted the chance to call in at the Barge and Barrel pub in Elland and kept going all the way to Brighouse where we discovered the Old Ship Inn. It was a bit of a find as it had several real ales and a cosmopolitan clientele. Being good we only stayed for one before catching the train back to Halifax. Sadly what should have been a pleasant trip home was ruined by a group of drunken football supporters whose testosterone levels easily exceeded their IQs.  We really felt sorry for the traincrew who’ll have to put up with this sort of juvenile and boorish behaviour on a regular basis. It must be a nightmare shift.

Back in Halifax we gave the deserted and desolate town centre a miss and walked back via the wonderful backstreet pub - the ‘Big Six’. It’s a little gem with a great selection of real ales that’s well worth a visit if you’re in the area. It’s also a dog friendly pub so we spent most of our time pampering a very sociable (and persistent) black Labrador!

Hopefully tomorrows walk will be just as much fun...

The newspaper headlines predict that there’s snow on the way tomorrow. To be honest, if we get some of the proper stuff I wouldn’t mind – a few extra snow shots would be useful. Plus, the Pennines look stunning under a layer of clean, crisp snow. One can only hope...

The Northern ‘Dog Box’ that took me to Wakefield resembled a fridge so I was grateful to plonk myself down in a seat on board a warm Cross-Country Voyager at Westgate - which is where I’m typing this. Now it’s time to switch from writing for fun to writing for money, so, I’ll catch you later...

I was in London to get some shots of the new First Class waiting room at Kings Cross for RAIL magazine. I won’t say too much about the place as you’ll be able to see them in the magazine, but the choice of colour scheme is perhaps best described as ’brave’....

Before catching my train this evening I had chance to grab a few more shots of the changes at Kings Cross which have been loaded onto this site thanks to Grand Central’s free onboard wifi. If you have a minute, take a look.

Despite the trains being busier the friendliness of the crew hasn’t changed and they remain as cheerful and helpful as ever. Well done guys!

 What struck me as I walked around was the contrast in people compared to Asia. I don’t mean ethnicity – I’m talking about size. Young skinny, busy Asians have been replaced with an older, slower group of people, many of whom are palpably overweight. There’s no shortage of people who’ve swapped necks for a multitude of chins and seem perfectly content with the exchange.  Now, I’m no stranger to the image of the formidable Northern granny (I was brought up by one) but this is different. Many of these people have a calendar age far less than their weight; they positively scream ‘onset diabetes’.  When I walked into the main Post Office I took one look at the queue and thought I’d walked into a Doctors surgery by mistake – and that was before I was nearly crippled by a woman on one of those mobility scooters....

It’s not surprising really because that’s the other great contrast to Asia – food. There’s a dearth of anything decent.  Fast food joints abound and fruit and veg shops are as rare as rocking horse shit. The irony is that much of what is described as ‘fast food’ would take far longer to prepare and serve than the fantastic fresh food that you get out in Thailand.

Looking around made me wonder something else. Why do the majority of people whose favourite attire is ‘sportswear’ look like they’d keel over from a heart attack if they ran more than 10 paces?

On the positive side, I don’t have to struggle with an unfamiliar, runish script – all the signs are in English which is why a rather surreal poster advertising the Halifax Courier newspaper caught my eye: ‘Man dies after severing own head’ (no shit Sherlock)!

It’s a funny old world...

Normal service will be resumed in the next couple of days when I'll be back in London to have a look at progress on various rail schemes - including the redeveloped Kings Cross station which looks fantastic. Well done to all concerned for opening the station a day early.

Next I have the onerous task of sitting down to read a big pile of magazines (RAIL, Modern Railways, Rail Professional and Railways Illustrated) in the name of research...

The tragedy is that Afghanistan is far less peaceful on the ground than it seems from the air but from 35,000 feet the squabbles of humanity are eclipsed by the sheer scale and desolation of the landscape – especially this time of year when vast tracts of this rugged country are blanketed in snow. Then again, it wasn’t just Afghanistan – the snow extended right across the former Soviet Union, creating a monochrome landscape that only petered out at the gates of Moscow. I’d loved to have got some pictures but my window was fogged with too many ice crystals so the only images I have are stored in my mind’s eye. Spectacular as the landscape was I had no desire to be part of it. I was happy to watch such a bleak and freezing world go by from the comfort of a seat at 37,000 feet with a glass of wine in my hand. 

Suitably refreshed I managed to get a few hours sleep before we entered UK airspace and began our approach to Heathrow. I love flying in to Heathrow long-haul from Asia as you often get held in a stack above North-East London which gives you superb views of the capital. The final approach is even better – especially if you have a right hand side window seat like me. That way you get a grandstand view of the historic sights of central London. 

Heathrow was ticking over nicely so it didn’t take me long to get through the airport. Sadly, the same couldn’t be said for the Piccadilly line. Luckily for me Christian Wolmar was making the trip out to Heathrow and tweeted warning of a ‘one under’ so I caught the Heathrow Express instead. Within a couple of hours I was sitting in front of a coal fire with friends at their home West Norwood – getting used to the idea that I was finally back in Blighty.  I’d been travelling for 28 hours and my body clock was telling me it was 5am not 10pm but my day wasn’t quite finished yet...

RAIL magazine had commissioned me to get some shots of the Virgin Pendolino that would be visiting Kings Cross in the early hours, so after a couple of hours sleep I found myself waiting for a night bus to Trafalgar Square.  Apart from me, some urban foxes and a few Network Rail vans, the streets of Norwood were deserted. The trip across the city was easy (the night bus system is brilliant) and I soon found myself at the gates of Kings Cross. The station is in the final stages of a makeover that’ll leave the place looking pretty spectacular. Workmen were everywhere, busy testing or adding finishing touches.

The actual job took less than an hour with the safety brief vying for length with the photography! You can see the results in the latest edition of RAIL (out on Wednesday). Afterwards, tired but happy (with a metabolism convinced that it was Midday and asking where the hell Monday night had gone!) I caught the first Victoria line tube back to Norwood for a rendezvous with a well earned breakfast.

Talk about hitting the ground running...

The flight itself was full but I swapped a mid row seat with an American couple who wanted to sit together and the time, well, it flew by...! Sadly the food was a bit of a disappointment. I tried the Indian veggie option. Now, to make Indian food tasteless really takes some doing but they achieved it. I had a bland version of Idli and dhal, plus something I’ve never had the misfortune to come across before – an Indian fusion mini pizza which was equally forgettable. We were treated to some lifeless and anaemic coffee to wash it down.  I shouldn’t complain too much – at least we got here. I have a link to the Times of India newspaper on my Facebook page and one story caught my eye: Jet Airlines were given an ultimatum by the Government to pay off back taxes by today or its bank accounts would be frozen.  I had nightmare visions of turning up In Delhi only to be marooned as guys brandishing court orders and wheel-clamps went to work on my aircraft...

Getting off the plane in Delhi immediately brings back memories. I don’t know what it is but India has a distinctive smell unlike anywhere else in the world. You know you’re here just by breathing in. Mind you, years ago that would have been the toilets (which really could make your eyes water!) but nowadays Indira Ghandi International Airport is a massive modern airport – albeit with the crumbling edge of quality and attention to detail that’s India’s other distinctive trademark. The lounge I‘m sitting in is liberally supplied with power points for laptops. The problem is – finding any that work!

What stands out to my eyes is that this is just like any other international airport now. You can buy all the usual duty-free trinkets and baubles. None of this was possible when I first came to India. Then, the order of the day was ‘Swadeshi’ - self-sufficiency that decreed everything had to be produced in country. So, you had ‘IMFL’ (Indian Made Foreign Liquor). ‘Old Monk’ rum and ‘Bagpiper’ whisky were two I remember. The closest the Scotch had got to Scotland was Bombay...

(Pt 2 to follow shortly)

 It’s odd to think that I’ll be back in the UK tomorrow after so long here in Asia. I come here that often that it’s easy to settle in as it’s more of a second home than anything.  Mostly, it suits me, although I do find the pace of work frustrating at times. Trying to arrange interviews and get wheels turning takes far longer than it does in Europe so I didn’t get to do all the things I wanted or get to all the places. My extended sojourn in Malaysia meant that I never made it to India this time - although a cancelled conference didn’t help!  Still, I’m not really complaining, I’m happy that I have a job that gives me so much flexibility and allows me to do these things. It’s (literally) a world away from my old occupation of managing council estates in London!

Whilst I was waiting for pictures to upload I read an online article by award winning photojournalist Dan Chung who sees no future in photojournalism. So much so the he’s quit working for the Guardian, embraced video and moved to China. I can see where he’s coming from and it didn’t make comfortable reading. I’m grateful that my work crosses over into advertising and the commercial world as I suspect he’s right. ‘Evolve or die’ was his message. Evolving is something a lot of us Brit’s tend not to be too good – we’re far too much in thrall to the past. Personally, like Dan, I heard this message a while ago. It’s one of the reasons I’ll be getting the new, video capable, Nikon D4 when I get back...

2012 is going to be a very busy year.

Love it or hate it, this place is one of the true traveller’s crossroads where you can bump into anyone. It’s a melange of backpackers, tourists and locals, all ages and races, the hip - and the hideous. It’s crammed with hotels, bars, tattoo and massage parlours and all manner of places to eat. Think of the bar out of ‘Star Wars’ – then turn it into a whole street. In truth, if you’ve got any sense you’ll stay off the Khao San itself nowadays. I first came here 20 years ago when it was much less popular. In those days many guest houses locked their doors at Midnight. I well remember collapsing in a heap after climbing over a wrought iron gate to get into my guesthouse. Now, you just walk into the lobby of the hotel that occupies the same site and wave drunkenly to the security guard.

As well as being overpriced it’s become home to far too many people whose only ambition is to come to Bangkok and get absolutely trashed. The next street North is Rambutri which is a much more relaxed place with a better atmosphere and superior food – (unless you’re one of those people who thinks a McDonalds is the pinnacle of world cuisine). One of my favourite eateries is a collection of ramshackle tables on the pavement outside a 7-11. Meals are chosen from a cart which holds some of the best food I’ve eaten. There’s a superb curried pumpkin, succulent pork with beautifully crunchy green beans – as well as all the standards like Green curry or barbecued fish.  Another favourite is a second street cafe that has fish to die for – deep fried and served with a superb chilli sauce and crispy spinach. The kitchen is on the pavement so you can watch the food being prepared.

One of the many things I love about Asia is this life on the street. There’s no hiding away behind doors here. Eateries, shops and bars are mostly part of streetlife which leads to a far greater level of interaction between folk then we see back in the UK. It’s a fascinating place to sit back, relax and people watch.

Life in the UK is going to seem rather flat by comparison.

The problem is that it’s not great for what I had planned. The fresh concrete of new elevated metros can really stand out against deep blue skies – but against uniform grey cloud? Bugger that for a game of soldiers.

The day started well enough. I rose at 6am kick-started my system with the free coffee in the hotel lobby then ventured across the road to Hualampong station to get shots of the morning rush-hour. I was after photos of the old GE diesels from the 1950’s (also known as a ‘Shovelnose’ – for obvious reasons). Apart from their roles as station pilots the only time they appear is on early morning passenger services – although now even this seems to be hit and miss. Today wasn’t a good day to find them but I did manage to get some close-ups of one of the locos. They’re an ecological disaster – a ‘Torrey Canyon’ on bogies. The engine room in every loco is deep in oil. In some the cab floor is just as bad. You’d never be able to get away with it in Europe but here no-one seems bothered.

Still, it’s been an interesting couple of days. On Wednesday I caught a train out to Lat Krabang on the Airport Rail Link to visit a Thai friend and his family. The family is traditional Thai with 3 generations living at home. Back in Europe, Granny (at 83, bedridden and unable to speak most of the time) would have been farmed out to a ‘home’. Here, she still has a real one.

Mum doesn’t speak any English but Dad was happy to see me as it gave him an excuse to use a language he’d once learned but not uttered for 15 years. What we couldn’t say in words we got away with in sign-language, mutual incomprehensibility or key words like ‘football’, ‘Liverpool’ and ‘John Barnes’. Some languages are international. I was treated to some Thai home cooking, spicy curries and delicious rice, which made a lovely change from the cheaper varieties you normally get in restaurants.

In the evening Chris and I came back to Bangkok to visit a number of the temples. Doing this with an ex-monk working in architecture and design is always informative. The concept of monkhood is very different here to Europe. In Thailand you can be a monk for as little as a fortnight (rather different to what most people choose to do with their annual holiday, Centerparcs it ain’t). Chris had been a monk for more than a year so he was well placed to give me the lowdown on temple life. 

Our first stop was Wat Benchamabophit. As temples go it’s relatively new. It was built out of Italian marble on the order of King Chulalongkorn in 1899. It’s Chris’s favourite temple as he loves the symmetry of the design. Because today was the Makha Bucha holiday the Wat was busy with people praying or walking clockwise around the shrine before leaving offerings of lotus flowers and money.

From here we took a taxi to one of my favourites – Wat Sraket, or the ‘Golden Mountain’. It’s perched on the only hill in Bangkok which makes it rather special. The crowds had thinned by the time we arrived which made the climb up the multitude of steps to the top far easier. There were some lovely views of the city from the top, the contrast between old temples and the skyscraper skyline of modern Bangkok is very evident here. There was also a very welcome breeze although it played havoc with the streams of paper money devotees had stapled together as offerings. Most of these devotees were young people, the sort of teenagers that wouldn’t be seen dead in a church back in Europe, but in Asia religion is part and parcel of everyday life – and a lot more fun it seems...

I’ve added a small selection of pictures from the day to the Asia travel gallery. Enjoy!

I'm off to meet Chrissorn, an old Thai friend. Today is the holiday of Makha Bucha. It's an important Buddhist festival and the temples will be busy tonight. Chris has offered to take me along again this year so I'll tell you all about it tomorrow.

The piers led me to another station on the Purple line at Bang Son which will be the interchange for State Railways of Thailand’s new suburban ‘Red route’ which crosses underneath a few hundred metres farther on. This is another elevated railway which parallels the existing SRT route from Bang Sue (now, I’ve told you once..) to Taling Chan out to the West of the city. After quite a bit of haggling and plan changing this will be an electrified, double track metre gauge line. The new SRT station dwarfs the adjacent old, down at heel one which has been taken over as a workers compound/base and looks more like a squatter’s camp than a station. But I doubt that will be for long. A brand new road is being laid to the South of the route and this will be a very desirable piece of real estate in a few years time.

I followed the railway back towards Bang Sue (right, for the last time..) but decided against following the local practice of using railways as footpaths. Instead I ambled along the landscaped and tree lined Klong Prapra to get back to the station. It’s hard to believe it now, but last November, when the floods threatened to burst through and engulf central Bangkok this area was the frontline and final defence. The newspapers and TV were full of reports of the height of the floodwaters around here. Now, apart from the occasional shop that still has a flood wall outside (those who had the money built substantial brick and concrete ones) there’s hardly any sign of the chaos it caused. The effects linger on in other ways though. All the projects I looked at are months behind because of it as sand and cement became too expensive, so workers were laid off and left the city.

Back at Bang Sue (now will you stop it!) delays meant there was no SRT train for an hour so I plumped for the air-conditioned luxury of the metro back to Hualamphong – although the luxury came at a price. 40 baht instead of 2!

..................................................................................................................................................................Pt 2

It’s now 19.20 and I’m sitting at a street stall opposite the station replete after a fiery chicken curry with peppers, liberally garnished with the chopped chillies which are supplied as condiments on each table. The street stalls are quiet but the roads are frenetic as Bangkokians try to filter out of the city by car and bus through the nearby expressway. The level of traffic makes crossing the road ‘interesting’ to say the least, but you don’t seem to get as many damn-fool drivers here who see the roads as purely for them the way you do in the UK. There’s also some seriously cool coaches here (you’ll see a picture later). The paint jobs and body styling is excellent. Add a few green lights in the burnished engine bay and you almost have something out of a sci-fi film. Alien meets Plaxton perhaps?

Every so often you’ll get a scooter rider darting through the traffic in the wrong direction like a minnow (or a kamikaze). Sat here at the side of the road I get a grandstand view of all this and more.  This is the best kind of TV dinner you could ask for!

The ease by which we can communicate now is what started me thinking. When I started travelling in this part of the world all you had was expensive phone calls home from landlines, or ‘poste restante’ maildrops.  I can just hear those who aren’t old fart travellers saying “ what the hell is poste restante”? Well, In the bad old days every main post office (and quite a few small ones in popular travelling locations) had a box, room or counter that dealt with letters addressed to individuals c/o their post office. The problem was that many of them would only keep them for a limited time before the letter was - in the words of the old Elvis song – ‘returned to sender’. In this era of instant communication it’s difficult to explain just what it was like to pitch up at a post office after weeks or months without contact with home and finding several letters with your name on them – and thick ones were especially prized as you knew someone had made the effort or had something to say. Now, I admit that I’m just as bad – but letter writing is a lost art. I can’t think of the last time that I wrote one. I don’t even send postcards anymore since my mum died.

But I digress. So, depending how long you were travelling for you’d tell people to write to you c/o the GPO in (say) Kathmandu between certain dates – and hoped the letter would be there when you turned up. It was all a bit hit and miss. You couldn’t have a decent conversation by letter when half the conversation went missing – as it often did. Of course, you could always ring home, but depending on where you were that was far more expensive and often just as unreliable (and, if you were in India – incredibly bureaucratic, but nothing changes there – even in the internet age).

I do remember making an eye-wateringly expensive radio telephone call back to the UK from a Thai Island on my mum’s birthday one time. Of course nowadays (if she was still there to pick up the phone) I’d use ‘Skype’ – for free.

What an incredible change in such a short time.

Now, thanks to the internet, Not only can I keep in touch with friends and family at will - I’m able to run my photographic business from anywhere in the world. All I need is an internet connection – just like this one.

Another transformation is internet banking. Back in the mid 80s I had to get some money sent out to me in India. Talk about a rigmarole. Telegraphic transfers, wads of paperwork – you name it. Now? I manage all my finances over the internet and beer voucher machines – sorry, ATMs are almost everywhere.  

In a normal day I might upload pictures only an hour old, email copies to a magazine, get a purchase order emailed to me, email an invoice back and then both receive and spend the money electronically. It doesn’t matter that the client is based in the UK and I’m sitting in a station in Bangkok, or a backstreet cafe in Bali, or Laos, or...

What a wonderful world!

Meanwhile my time in Asia is coming to an end. I sorted out my return flight today which means I'll be back in the Sceptered Isle on the 12th March.

The trip up from Butterworth proved to be one of those journey's that's make so much fun purely by chance. In this case it was the fact that my companions in the coach were an entertaining couple of (ex) Brits who'd lived in Oz for 35 years and a young deaf and dumb Thai woman who made up for her inability to communicate in the standard fashion by her sheer exhuberance, facial expressions and body language!

All in all it was a great journey and the fact that the train was over an hour late leaving mattered not a jot.

Now I'm back in Bangkok, gazing out across the street at the illuminated facade of Hualamphong station and watching the world go by. I have to admit that - as much as I enjoy the food in Malaysia, the first taste of the Thai red curry I'd ordered was like manna from heaven. I absolutely love Thai food and all its richness and complexity. Washed down with a cold bottle of beer and it's truly sublime.

So, now I'm going to go and finish that beer and you'll hear more about Bangkok anon..

P

However, I did venture over to the mainland, catching the ferry across to Butterworth to check on the progress KTMB are making on building their new station. When I was here a few months ago the site of the old place was a wasteland. Now foundations have appeared for the new platforms – which start to give you an impression of its size. I hung around for a few hours getting pictures (which are now on the website) but when the latest thunderstorm rolled in, turning the sky the colour of slate and lacing it with lightning  – It was time to leave. Still it made for a dramatic ferry journey as I was caught between weather fronts. On the other side of the channel the Southern suburbs of Georgetown were getting a soaking from a mini monsoon that had boiled in over Penang hill. You can see the effect in some of the picture in the travel gallery.

I managed to walk home without getting soaked by the rain – just dripping in sweat because of the humidity and the weight of the camera bag. After a quick shower and change I headed out to eat, then shot some pictures around Lebuh Chulia. Now, this area has always been famous for the fact that it’s been a hangout for the local ‘working girls’ – although in times past, many of the girls were anything but.  Thailand is famous for its ‘Ladyboys’ – who’ve fooled many a man. In Georgetown they’ve always been more like Les Dawson in drag. But times (and maybe tastes) have changed. Now when you walk down Chulia you’re more likely to see examples of female Indian pulchritude rather than a chubby Chinese bloke who really should have shaved before he put the make-up and tights on...

What hasn’t changed is the becak (ricksahaw) drivers who hang around on the pavements outside the bigger hotels, playing draughts on makeshift boards using bottletops as pieces. Most of them are so stick thin they’d make a famine victim look overweight.

For old times sake I had a beer in a bar called the Mona Lisa. I’ve been going there for years but this was my first visit on this trip. It hasn’t changed – it’s just that everyone’s got older and the decor’s got tattier! Walking home afterwards was fun as the rain held off but the lightning was superb – masses of sheet stuff from all directions, like someone going crazy with a strobe.

So, there’s enough time for a final beer at home and typing this, then it’s off to pack. Another day, another country. I’m going to miss this place...

It’s blissfully quiet here in Jalan Muntri,  the small hotel I’m staying in is favoured by an older clientele – many of whom are retired and either staying here in Malaysia for the  winter months or are regulars from Thailand on the ‘visa run’. That means that it’s not full of excitable young travellers who are so absorbed in themselves they forget about other people.  As I’m typing this an older American man has just turned up on a bicycle festooned with panniers. This intrepid chap is fulfilling his ambition to cycle around SE Asia in contrast to the preferred method of the younger types who have eschewed the inconvenience of going overland and dip in and out of places by budget airline like so many social butterflies. 

Jalan Muntri is a backstreet in the old part of Georgetown that runs parallel with the much more well-known Lebuh Chulia. The busiest thing that’s happened here has been a Chinese funeral a few doors up the road. A marquee with tables and chairs was set up n the road outside the house for the nearest and dearest to pay their respects. The send-off lasted a few days, until this afternoon when the deceased got his final send off accompanied by a band and several trucks containing the sort of flower arrangements you normally see at a state funeral.

Now peace has returned broken only by the bells and horns of the occasional scooter, becak (pedal rickshaw) and evening thunderstorm – although that was more sound than fury with a pretty poor attempt at rain compared to what you can get here.

My day has been just as lazy. I relished a lie-in and uninterrupted sleep before a brunch of roti canai, which is a chapatti like bread cooked on a griddle. It’s served with a gorgeous curry sauce to make a cheap and cheerful (but very delicious) meal.  Suitably replete I wandered back to the hotel and spent the rest of the afternoon editing the archive pictures which are uploading to the website now.

So, now I have a tough decision to make – what to eat tonight? Georgetown is a gourmands paradise. You have Indian, Chinese and Malay food (or a fusion of all three) to choose from.  From sublime samosas in Little India, nourishing noodles in Chinatown or succulent seafood from the Malay stalls on the promenade.

Decisions, decisions...

http://paulbigland.zenfolio.com/p875029034/h190b0b91#h3d47578a

Paul

That was just the prelude. The train I caught ground to a halt just outside Batu caves, sitting there without explanation for 20 minutes before turning tail and retracing its tracks (literally) to the previous station where we were told to get off and wait for the next train - working 'bang road'.

It turned out that a cement train right in front of my train had failed and stopped the job.

But, in their wisdom (and to their credit) KTMB had installed bi-directional signalling when the line was modernised a couple of years ago. Thus a plan B was soon put into operation and the Batu branch effectively became a single line again. Not that it was much fun for the crew of the cement train. No-one seemed in a hurry to rescue it so it was still sitting there 4 hours later. I hope the cab air-conditioning still worked...

Having had enough excitement for one day I retreated back to my room in Chinatown before nipping out for a beer and a spot of people watching at my favourite spot - a Chinese restaurant straddling a busy corner*. As an 'old lag' I've got to know the staff. They were in a playful and talkative mood tonight because it was the bosses night off. That was when I learned what they earn in an 8 hour shift wouldn't even pay for three beers (around £9).

I made sure that I left a tip...

P

* There'll be more about this in a longer blog.

Although (for obvious reasons) I haven't got all my old slides with me. I do have all the digital archive. The past few months in Asia have given me chance to start trawling through it, take a fresh look and decide what to add to this site.

Talk about a trip down memory lane..!

I went digital at the beginning of 2004. Like many photographers, I was hesitant because of the talk about quality issues. Now, with the benefit of hindsight I wish that I'd taken the plunge much earlier. Because one issue that some forgot was that you don't have to worry about the quality of a picture your camera is incapable of taking in the first place!

Looking back over the first few years makes me realise just how many more pictures I could take. There was no more swapping films mid-roll, or the need to carry around two camera bodies with different films in them. You just changed the ISO setting and away you went. The other thing digital allowed me was the freedom to experiment and to preview the image - learning from your mistakes as you made them. No more worries about how much it was costing you to press the shutter, no need to be miserly with your exposures - what freedom it gave us!

Right now I'm editing the pictures taken on my first DSLR - a Nikon D100. The quality of them still impresses me now. What's also interesting to see is the way my photographic skills and techniques developed because of that new found freedom - even if my Photoshop ones lagged behind!

There is another thing that looking through the early archive shows - which is just how much the subject matter was changing. The mid-noughties was a crucial time for the railways as modernisation of the train fleets really took off. In 2005 the old Southern slammers were in their final months of service, as was LHCS on the West Coast. Plus, Cross-Country was going over to an all Voyager fleet.

And it wasn't all about the trains. Building the second part of the Channel tunnel rail link into St Pancras was well under way and I was lucky enough to be commissioned by RAIL magazine to follow the progress - as well as taking a lot of my own archive shots. It was a great time to be a photographer following the railways.

OK, I've talked about the silver lining, but let's not forget about the cloud. Re-editing all these pictures, uploading them to the site and then adding captions is a nightmare in the amount of time it takes. It took me 7 years to get them on-line in the first place. I don't have the luxury of another seven to get them back online. But for me it's a job and it's got to be done. The people I feel sorry for are the photographers who lost their websites when Fotopic pulled the plug and who have neither the time, or in some cases - the pictures to replace. It still makes me angry that a lot of social history has disappeared from the archive through Fotopics actions - and we're all the poorer for it.

Damn you Fotopic!

Paul

On the bright side, kicking my heels here turned out to be very useful as various opportunities presented themselves that I would have missed if I'd just nipped through..

Paul