Travelling First and Second Glass

At this moment I am the Man in Seat 13 on a train, lucky for me; I'm no triskaidekaphobic. Some hotels don't have a floor 13 due to the inauspicious nature of the number, but Virgin Trains laugh in the face of superstition, and here I am in First Class as the doors beep indicating the last chance to board at Euston for the two-hour twenty-minute journey to Liverpool Lime Street. Or Lahm Shtreet, as it is pronounced in Scouse.

Ooh, First Class I hear you scoff. Don't. Not until you know the details. I am probably paying considerably less than many others on this train, especially those who've left their ticket buying till the last minute. In these days of dynamic pricing that can be a costly move. But me? Well organised. 

Fewer fellow passengers in First

Virgin send me special offers occasionally, and reminders to 'book early' for the best prices, but in fact I've found that if you try and book too early the ticket prices are astronomical. Beyond Uranus, which is where they can stick them. But staying with the solar system analogy for a moment, I've discovered there's a ‘Goldilocks Zone’ for booking tickets at the best price. In astronomy terms the Goldilocks Zone is that slim orbital margin a certain distance from a sun in which a planet is neither too hot nor too cold to sustain an Earth-like countenance - atmosphere, water, nitrogen, carbon etc. Life, Jim.

I booked this ticket a month before travelling, by which time the prices had come in from the distant outreaches to a more acceptable orbit. Like astronomers watching the skies through telescopes, you just have to be vigilant. Anyway, suffice to say that my first class ticket cost a few pence over £30, albeit with a senior railcard discount. There's got to be some perks to this ageing business.

'Tea mate?' asks one of the train staff as he staggers through the coach (because we are now moving at high speed, not because he's drunk. Then again, who'd know?) The staff are from Liverpool judging by their accents; he pronounces mate as 'mace'. 'No thanks mace,' I reply. I will wait for the wine. Or wahn as it will surely be called when proffered.

Travel strategically

As with the ticket purchase there are some tricks to getting the best value from your First Class journey. The main one is not to travel on weekends, because for some reason Virgin doesn’t offer any alcoholic beverages and only a reduced menu. Saturday and Sunday First Class is really only First Class Lite, so avoid weekends and bank holidays. 

The second best-value tip is: don’t forget to use Virgin’s First Class passenger lounges at those stations that have them. Tea, coffee and non-alcoholic drinks are complimentary, as are various biscuits and other treats. It beats standing on the concourse waiting for your departure platform to be announced. And if you're really desperate for a wine you can purchase a glass in the lounge.

Weekend disappointment

My final bit of advice is to choose your departure time strategically if you can. Travel too early and you'll get only breakfast; too late and it's afternoon tea or snacks. But for lunch with alcoholic beverages you need to travel in the midday period, say between 1100 and 1300 - another Goldilocks Zone, and often the cheapest. Don't mention it. My pleasure.

Before my train has even reached its cruising speed of what feels like 1000mph the train staff come round with the proper drinks trolley. Sure you could have sparkling water or orange juice, but you're in First Class, so why wouldn't you have a first glass of wine?

The woman opposite me knows this and orders a red. As the train steward pours it he says in a thick Scouse accent, 'One of my special measures like?' and fills what must be at least a 250ml tumbler almost to the top. I go for the white wahn, telling him I like his measures and I get the same treatment. 'These glasses aren't big enough for my measures' he quips. I tell him it's an engineering fault. 

The measure of the man

A woman appears a few minutes later pushing the food trolley, also from Liverpool (the woman, not the trolley). 'Anythin' tereece?' A man nearby chooses the game pie, but I know from experience that it's best avoided; the last one I had, while eloquently described on the menu and by all accounts made lovingly by hand especially for Virgin, tasted no better than the cardboard box it came in. In fact I finished the box and left the pie. I opted today instead for the ploughman's 'sub'.

To make it clear, I travel this route reasonably often, and try and go first class when I can, so I know the routine, part of which is that the train steward tends to come round a second time with the drinks trolley quite soon after the first visit, and usually before you've finished your first glass. Knowing this I down my expected first glass with strategic swiftness, pending a second wahn in the near future. But as the time drifts by along with the autumnal landscape outside there's no sign of any

The Ploughman's Sub

refill. Perhaps the company policy has changed. Maybe they've caught me on the in-train security footage finishing off the equivalent of two-thirds of a bottle and sitting back in contentment, shoes kicked off and snoring loudly. I really must get some quieter shoes.

And then, just after the Stafford stop, my mace with the measure comes round again offering more drinks, so without hesitation I decide to travel second glass. The woman opposite with the red is only half way through hers and declines, though the last journey I was on a cheeky Scouser asked if he could stack a second glass up with his first, to which the steward complied. 

Use the First Class lounges where available

As with air travel, there are some things that just can't be any better in First than Cattle Class. The train rocks and rolls just as much in Coach K as Coach A, we all get to Lahm Shtreet at the same time, and the entrances and exits at the stations are the same sheep runs for everyone. But the first class Virgin seats are a bit wider, and you can slide the seat base forward to give the illusion that you've reclined your seat back. There's free Wi-Fi (intermittent at best) in First, tables with every seat, and generally fewer fellow passengers, depending on when you travel of course.

The antimacassars are embroidered with ‘First Class’ just to remind you how lucky you are, and there's a generous supply of power points (not sure mine was actually working), but the days of silver service, white linen table cloths and waiters  offering three-course delights are long gone. For that you'll need the Orient Express or similar.

Still, for £30 I'm not complaining. The two glasses of wine are worth about £5.95 each at London prices, and the Ploughman's Sub (though I could find no taste of ploughman) is probably £3.95 in value, so in terms of the ticket price that leaves me having paid only around £16 for the journey.

I'll drink to that.

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