Yesterday, without warning, ‘one’ railways suddenly ceased to exist. In its place are platforms decked out with “National Express East Anglia” logos and posters, and trains in a new livery. Overnight, it seems, the company was taken over, everything changed, and no one seems to know what’s going on. In fact, so new is this news that I’ve only been able to find one article telling me about the takeover. One’s web site no longer exists, but redirects to one of the many* National Express web sites.

This isn’t a bad thing, necessarily, and I don’t expect much to change other than the words on the signage. After all, when ‘one’ took over from Great Eastern very little actually happened – the livery changed on the outside, but the trains were exactly the same on the inside. I think the only thing ‘one’ actually did was put prices up and convince us all that having their trains go slower would speed things up (the idea does work in theory, in that less time is spent sitting in stations, but it does seem a little backwards). However, I think the most frustrating thing about ‘one’ was the name – it’s so pretentious and odd-sounding. “One welcomes you to this train”. Why thank you, good train driver, one is most grateful for the welcome.

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Saturday was busy.  At least, a lot seemed to happen.  In the morning I went bike-shopping (see my previous post about why I needed a new bike), and came home having only been to one shop.  £105 bought me a nice mountain bike with 21 gears and front suspension, and included a new saddle (the one the bike came with was a tiddly little one, which wouldn’t have been any good at all, so I upgraded to a slightly nicer one).  The most scary part was in fact not buying the bike, but getting it home again on the back of my Mini!  Still, I know what I’m doing with that bike rack, so it was on good and tight and bike didn’t move an inch, even over the bumps in the road.  It’s just rather worrying when you see the bike sticking out either side of the car by a substantial distance!

When I got home I took the bike for a ride, something I’ve not done in years.  My leg muscles complained almost instantly, but thankfully I managed to ignore them long enough to get a good long ride out of them.  At first I just cycled round the block, getting used to the bike and working up some confidence.  Then I started exploring some random roads in Wivenhoe that I hadn’t been down before, found a few footpaths I never knew existed, and generally enjoyed being back on a bike again.  Then I ended up taking the bike off-road for a bit, and found some fields that I didn’t know were there.  It was hard going, and I found a fair bit of mud, but I guess if nothing else it was good for the bike to know what it was in for!  After about half an hour of cycling I came back home again, thoroughly worn out but satisfied that I had had some exercise and shown the bike who was boss.

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For once, I’m not referring to my Mini.

Once upon a time I cycled everywhere.  I cycled to school, I cycled home from school, I cycled to see people, I cycled to church on occasion, I cycled to Brixham for a day out, I cycled to Exmouth (via the Starcross ferry) for a weekend, I cycled to university, I cycled to town, I cycled to Tesco.  It was my primary form of transport, it took me everywhere, and was very reliable.  Then I got a car.  At much the same time I left university and started working from home.  That meant that not only did I not have to go out as much, but when I did I had the luxury of a car to take me there.  There were several results to this: I travelled further more frequently, I joined the local Mini club, I spent lots of money on accessories and maintenance, and I got terribly unfit.

The last of those results is the one I’ve been most concerned about.  The lack of exercise, combined with the joys of married life, has left me with a slowly-increasing fat reserve, something my body simply isn’t built for.  I have always been slim, always been light on my feet, always been fairly fit.  But now I have a bulging stomach, my leg muscles have turned to jelly, and I feel lethargic most of the time.  It’s not that I need to go on a diet, I just need to start using some of the energy I’m taking in!  So, to combat the problem, I’m going to start cycling again.

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There is definitely something to be said for an evening of culture and entertainment.  A few weeks ago I went with Phill to St Botolph’s Church in Colchester to listen to, amongst other things, Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue.  Phill wrote a summary of the concert on his blog, so I won’t bore you with details, but we both really enjoyed the evening.  To follow that, Phill and Phil took Ellie and I to Ipswich last night to hear the Wolsey Orchestra playing music by various Russian composers.

The concert was at the Corn Exchange, which I hadn’t been to before, and we were sat up in the balcony, but the acoustics were very good and we heard everything very well.  The orchestra looked and sounded very professional indeed, and the conductor too was very energetic and fun to watch.

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Today has made me feel quite old.  Not in the sense of aged and decrepit, but in the sense that I’m an adult, and married, and grown up.  I looked at the load of shopping we bought in Tesco, and marvelled at how civilised it was, and how far from a student-esque collection of food it was.  Then this afternoon Ellie and I went to a garden centre.  I mean, a garden centre?  That’s for adults and married couples and stuff.  Which is what we are.  And as much as it shouldn’t be a surprise, we were both conscious that the novelty still hasn’t worn off.  We’re married.  That’s still so exciting!  Scary, in the sense of not being young and un-responsible (and occasionally irresponsible too), but still exciting.

On the subject of garden centres, I would like to very heartily recommend the shop we stumbled across today.  The Range, on the corner of the Cowdray Centre opposite the TenPin Bowling alley, is amazing.  We passed it on the way back from visiting a garden centre in Stanway that proved to be exceptionally uninspiring, due to their sheer lack of anything useful.  The Range, on the other hand, has everything.  And I mean everything.  For those more familiar with the Westcountry, you could liken it to a small Trago Mills.  There was a gardening centre, pet shop (for food and stuff, not the animals themselves), loads of craft materials, coffee shop, camping bits, kitchenware, houseware, toys… pretty much anything you could think of was represented there somewhere.  What was most surprising though was that we had never even heard of it before.  We’d not seen any adverts for it, we’d never been there before, we’d never heard of anyone else going there before.  So, to rectify that issue, let me recommend it to you.  That is, of course, if you happen to be in Colchester.

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