If you have never travelled to London on the Wrexham and Shropshire train you have never lived. In a hectic, noisy, impersonal world you will find here a little capsule of quiet respectability, politeness and consideration.
“Would you like me to help you with your bag?” the squaddy asked the ex-Pomeranian breeder.
Betty Flavel was a lady in her 70’s with a tight perm and a slightly angry look who had lost her husband 8 years earlier and didn’t show or breed Pomeranians any longer. Over a homemade salmon sandwich she told me and the squaddy about the success they had had at Crufts with the Pomeranians many years ago proudly getting out of her bag a small yellowing article about it. Politely we both read it.
On the next table, as we sped past the spires of Oxfordshire villages three Shropshire people who had just met, discussed the closure of village banks and post offices. They moved on to increasing utility bills, the price of car parking in London, the Welsh language, the price of Al Paca wool and the frankly tiresome subject of the pronunciation of “Shrewsbury”, or should that be “Shrowsbury”.
“Would anyone like a coffee?” she asked her new friends, “I’m going to get one myself”
Across the aisle two small children asked endless questions about the things they saw outside the window and presumably because the mother eventually got fed up with this, she read them a story.
The conductor walked through the train, said hello to us and asked us whether he could do anything to make our journey more enjoyable. He then came on the tannoy and told about his colleagues in the dining car and what they could serve us up. And when he spoke it didn’t feel like he was reading a script, it felt like he was talking to us not at us.
And after the Pomeranian woman left at Banbury the squaddy issued an apology to me.
“I’m sorry I haven’t shaved, I have had an operation on my throat” he explained. He then went on to explain that he had recently come back from a tour of Afghanistan.
Arriving at Marylebone (what a lovely station) we all disembarked and the squaddy took my rucksack and carried it to the underground for me before disappearing into the bowels of the earth himself.
So, I can recommend the Wrexham Shropshire service, it has several old but clean carriages and only one route, Wrexham, via Shropshire to London Marylebone. Every time I travel on it I arrive in London relaxed and having had a good old chat with my fellow travellers.
It’s little surprise then that this train operator was voted best customer service in the UK.
Absolutely spot-on. With the exception of Swiss trains (where language has always been a bit of a barrier – the conductor's English usually being better than my German), Wrexham and Shropshire are the finest. The new rolling stock is nice enough, but it's far more to do with the service and the impression that the staff want to work on trains, not that it's what they're doing to avoid something more disagreeable.
Even the children are well-behaved!
Ha Ha ! I am now in mind of the D class trains in China where your seat will be nipped if you are not in the first 10 people to board and you will have to oust a belligerent seat nipper to sit down in the seat you booked. The only semblance of service is a girl in a strange uniform, roughly resembling an old fashioned nurse, walking through the carriage saying "karfey, char", and only has enedible MSG laced pigs ears and chicken feet to sell as snacks; and where the cleaner insists on using the same mop she has just cleaned the squat toilet with to then mop the floors throughout the train! And where exiting the train and the station resembles a rush on the last tickets for an outdoor rock festival.
You are making me home sick for China! See you in a few days time. I have the "First Capital" commuter train and the London Underground to navigate tomorrow – not quite the slick, clean, bright bullet trains and metro we are used to in Nanjing but I will be there soon enough.