The Pendolino Effect

My father was a big train fan, and I guess I've followed in his passenger-steps. He wasn't a trainspotter, but he knew his way around a DMU and a push and pull and knew a pantograph from an overhead line. We had a family Hornby train-set and would spend hours running Inter-Cities and goods trains, and a wee DMU, around a track on the floor of the loft about the size of half a table-tennis table. We bought accessories and the default Christmas present was a gift-card for the Argyll Model Dockyard or a points system or a carriage or two. It was a humble set, in the sense that we didn't have suburban built-up areas - we concentrated on the trains and the track.

Growing up with this, I guess it became natural that train travel would be my preference - I don't drive and while I love flying, if the choice is a train journey, it'll do every time. I've been in trains all over western Europe, and love the quality of others, I'm still happy with a Glasgow to London trip, and of course, I'm blipping from my evening commute on board a suburban train.

It all went horribly wrong last week though. A couple of colleagues and I went to London on Wednesday and as we chatted and put the world to rights, the four and a half hours flew in, with Virgin. We travelled up on the Virgin Pendolino service. I won't give you the detail, but for much of the journey, I wasn't in my seat, but instead used the on-board facilities. I've tried to be subtle. I was sick as a sick thing from Preston to Glasgow. So unusual for me - boats and I don't get on, but me and trains are the best of pals. It felt like seasickness. And apparently it's not common, but isn't unheard of. The tilting of the Pendolino train causes the Pendolino effect, or travel sickness, motion sickness, call it whatever we like. It's not pretty, believe me.

The pic is of a stationary Virgin Pendolino train in Glasgow Central this evening. I now prefer this particular train in that state.