To St. Pancras & beyond

A cheap first class rail ticket pre-booked using the train line some weeks ago has us travelling to Heathrow via what appears to be the shortest express train ever.

Consisting of five coaches this little train allows us a little comfort as we head off towards our first stop, St Pancras international station. Although we have reserved seats its not really necessary as the first class accommodation is nearly empty.

Coffee and a snack is served as we settle into the wide reclining seats and the 'express' rattles its way towards the capital.

Our departure station, East midlands parkway has little to recommend it other than convenience of access from home, its Spartan seating area at the station entry is complemented by a gaggle of smoking shelters on the central platform from where we depart.

The contrast on our arrival at St. Pancras is striking with its vaulted steel ceiling and brick built concourse, containing a variety of franchise outlets, five multicoloured interlocking rings at the end of the station subtly  remind the traveller of the status of London as the host city for the Olympic games.

In the main concourse a 2012 shopping experience awaits for the souvenir shopper at the Olympic shop, we stride onwards towards the Piccadilly line underground.

A short wait at the platform and we board the train to Terminals 1,2 and 3 Heathrow, its now 21:30. We get seats near the central doors and the two suitcases we have nestle in the nominated space beside us.

Approaching the central London stations of Piccadilly circus and Covent garden the train starts to fill and is soon uncomfortably warm, a baby three seats down starts to cry in its mothers arms, David shakes his head, by the time we reach Acton Town the number of passengers has thinned again and we are once more reasonably comfortable.

The journey takes roughly fifty minutes, some of which time is spent explaining to David the underground map, its colours and station line intersection details. (Yawn!)

At Heathrow Terminal 1 we head towards the arrivals hall and are shortly out into an area containing bus stops and a taxi rank, we head for Bus stop 4 and join a throng (not a queue) around the stop where a bus marked H7 stands we need H6, H5 arrives followed by H2 its 22:30 we are tired.

We forego the wait and head to the Taxi rank, prepared to miss the opportunity to save a little cash in favour of the more convenient Taxi ride. The driver berates me for attempting to open what turns out to be a powered door.

The taxi drive to the IBIS hotel at Heathrow takes ten minutes including stops at numerous traffic lights and costs £12.60 (£3.60 more than the bus) and worth every penny.

A small queue awaits at check in and despite one septuagenarian queue jumper whom is promptly advised his error by the French supervisor we are checked in promptly and provided with details on the mornings bus service availability.

The room is small but adequate, the only negative being the lack of shower gel, which although installed in a dispenser alongside the bath, has leaked away down the side and base of the bath, we have to make do with the small cellophane packet of 'traditional' hospital soap. As its 23:15 we hit the sack ready for the 04:30 alarm of the following day.

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