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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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
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| 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.
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| 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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