ERT reader Peter Pennington recounts a recent trip to Amsterdam.
Part One
It all started with a milk bottle full of urine, and my tricycle. In the five years from 1934 until when the Second World War started in 1939, I lived with my parents in the same house as my father had his surgery in the north of England village where we lived. One of my jobs, from about the age of three, was to open the door and take in the continual flow of urine samples. They mostly arrived in yesterday’s glass milk bottle. Then came the War. The local girl who normally helped my mother with keeping the house clean, especially our Dining Room that had to be cleared of breakfast dishes before it was converted to be the “Waiting Room” for the patients, went off to be the booking clerk at the local station down the road. Often, I would go down on my tricycle and “EM” would take me with her onto the footplate of the morning’s coal-train whilst it shunted into the siding a weekly wagon of coal that the local merchant could take round in his horse and cart. Coal, the source of all our heating and much of the cooking, was strictly rationed.
My love for trains grew from there. But always, life was dominated by a background of seeing so many patients with their physical problems. Little did I think that one day I would need help to move around myself. It is only when one experiences the difficulties of age or physique that one really appreciates how life can be limited. From this new and unexpected standpoint, I now find myself asking if we are all doing what we can to make sure that everyone, whether they be family, friends or just our customers in the commercial world around us, has the same opportunities for travel?
Looking back over the years to when we went on family holidays, and took our children by the Trans European Express train alongside the banks of the Rhine in pre high-speed days en-route to Switzerland; or we were allowing them to explore on their own, the decks and saloons of a beautiful Tor Line vessel sailing overnight to Gothenburg in Sweden; did I think of those who were back at home in England, unable to travel and frustrated that they could not wonder at seeing the Alps for the first time, or be able to swim off the Bohusland rocks before a wonderful smorgasbord lunch.
When, at the age of 90, I was invited by friends in The Netherlands to have a little holiday at their home, I turned to my ever-faithful European Rail Timetable. For 70 years and more, earlier editions had helped me plan many business trips and holidays. But all of a sudden, I was now classified as “old” and I am finding that I like the comfort of a walking-stick to make sure I do not fall. Pulling a case behind me is, to put it simply, not very practical for more than few minutes. Then I began to think; as ever in life there are many who are far worse off than I am, and so what both morally, and in practice, could I do to help them? How could I use this holiday experience for the benefit of others? At least I could note down my impressions that others might use to make improvements.
I decided to go out by train and come back by boat. This would be the most convenient arrangement for my hosts who live a couple of train-hours away from Amsterdam. It would be interesting to find out how I was treated by large organisations accustomed to thousands of passengers of all ages and abilities flowing through their highly geared systems day after day. Could they be bothered with me and a handful of others, some in wheelchairs, others perhaps blind or needing support like me when walking? Would we be, almost inevitably, getting in their way?
From London St Pancras on a mid-morning train to Amsterdam was my target. Booking my ticket direct online with Eurostar was easy. However, I recalled in the past having to hang around at St Pancras for long periods without a seat, whilst waiting to be allowed to go up the escalator to the departure platforms. I would not be able to cope with all that. So, I spoke to Eurostar, and they put me through to their Assisted-Travel team. They could not have been more helpful. They took my ticket details and promised to help. I was told not to worry. That was a great relief. And help they did. However, I did in practice find one snag. I had been assured that on arrival in Amsterdam Centraal I would be met by a local Eurostar representative who would hand me over to the Dutch Railways and they in turn would escort me to the platform for my onward journey. But I should inform NL Railways in advance for them to link up with Eurostar and be ready for the transfer. I had phoned them and been told such a service did not exist. Later I was told by a regular user that the inter-platform service does exist, but they do not provide wheelchairs.
In recent years the conversion of St Pancras into being the London terminus for all the foot- passenger Channel Tunnel services has been justifiably much praised. Nonetheless all of us must recognise that as time moves on so do we have to keep up to date with changing demands of both quality and quantity. I found that despite all the hard efforts of an outstandingly helpful staff, St Pancras is showing all the signs of being overcrowded.
On arrival at the station entrance, I just had to walk a short distance to their Assisted-Travel desk. Equally for a wheelchair it would be no problem, but if I could not have walked, or had needed significant help with my baggage, it would have been a problem. In the old days of “porters” they were at every station entrance. Perhaps some form of a “Call for Assisted Help” button at the entrance might overcome that potential difficulty.
Once checked in at the special “Assisted Help” desk I was personally shown to a thankfully cordoned off section in the general, and very crowded, waiting-hall area. Two Paris-bound and one Amsterdam-destined trains were all due to depart within the same hour around 10:30. Without that special reserved area I could not have stood around where all those seats were already full. But for we, who were understood to be beyond all that, it was a great help. Some of us were in wheelchairs of various sizes, either manual or power driven. Others just were frail and not able to stand or walk any distance. The only snag was that all the food and drink stalls, and the toilets, were at some distance and were only reached after weaving through the standing crowds. Finding a passage through on a wheelchair must have been a nightmare. Those problems might justify a relocation of the cordoned-off area?
After about half an hour I was taken to a second and much smaller waiting area prior to being escorted through emigration. My bags were weighed to see if they were within the 15kg limit. There is a problem at that area. I had around another 30 minutes to once again wait but there were only 4 seats available. Being early I was lucky, but I witnessed a small queue of about a dozen building up. All, other than the wheelchair-bound (and some of them had elderly travelling companions), were obviously in need of seats. I felt sorry for them. Either more seats should be provided, or the waiting time should be a maximum of 10 minutes. No nearby toilet facilities were apparent and given that many elderly or disabled would have probably travelled a long way in the early morning to get to that stage, a quick onward passage through the EU passport control could be important. Eventually I was given a new escort who helped with my baggage whilst I presented my passport. But I did wonder whether, when the new facial recognition and finger-printing identifications system is introduced, it would be designed to allow for those in wheelchairs of different designs, or say with shaky hands from Parkinson’s?
At the baggage-security my suitcase and hand baggage were put on and off the security x-ray belt for me by my escort. I did not see whether every solo wheelchair traveller had help at this point with their luggage.
I am given to understand that if you travel on Eurostar with your own wheelchair, you can book a (cheaper) wheelchair space. This is helpful for boarding and disembarking. However, you must stay in your wheelchair as you are allocated a space for the wheelchair and not a seat for yourself. But you do have the advantage of the use of the Business Lounge at both St Pancras and Brussels – but not at Amsterdam nor Rotterdam!
I have been also told that the turning circle on the Eurostar trains is such that some larger wheelchairs do not fit in as there is inadequate space after boarding for turning to enable them to go down the corridor to the seating travel-space area; thus, preventing such users to travel.
My sources also have commented that “It is important to note that the old red Thalys (now part of Eurostar) trains from Paris/Brussels to The Netherlands are extremely difficult with wheelchairs as the spaces are too small and the toilets inaccessible. If you have anything other than a very small wheelchair and/or require a fully accessible toilet, and are changing trains at Brussels, even having booked assistance, you need to check what sort of train you would be travelling on!”
Before the boarding gates were opened to everyone I and others were helped into the lift that took us up to the departure platform and then to my seat. My luggage was stowed safely for me and within sight. We were in a well-designed area. Plenty of room for wheelchairs to move around and with additional seats for companions. There were also several single and double window seats for the semi-mobile such as me. Nearby was a well-fitted disabled toilet accessible for the different sized wheelchairs. My only doubt was whether the latest newly designed wheelchairs would be able to be manoeuvred easily on and off at stations.
Throughout the 4-hour journey friendly Eurostar staff were frequently coming round offering to help or just for a chat. It was almost a “Happy Families” atmosphere.
The second part of Peter's blog will be posted next week. Text copyright Peter Pennington, gratefully used with permission. Photo: ID 224138292. © Marqz. Dreamstime.com.
