Hove instead

To the casual observer, Eastbourne and Littlehampton probably have a great deal in common, and I’m sure they’re both as lovely as each other. But hear the word ‘Littlehampton’ instead of ‘Eastbourne’ when you’re on your way to Lewes, and the feeling is not unlike what I imagine the fear of god to be. There can’t be many amalgamations of sounds that can so regularly project such contrasting realities or necessitate such immediate remedial action.

If ever there was an excuse for talking of parallel universes, then, I think I’ve found it right here in Sussex, with its vortex right there in Haywards Heath, where your hitherto reliable collection of carriages may suddenly split. However many times you’ve passed this way before, here’s a manoeuvre that can still trip you up. And if the idea is to thoroughly confuse, worry and upset the Gatwick contingent (even if not personally affected) or my parents-in-law, then this is the way to do it. For the latter, it created a kind of nail-in-the-coffin effect on their will to travel this way, coming as it always did after the hurdle of getting from one Victoria station (for the coach) to another (for the train). Never again would they submit themselves to such uncertainty.

But I can see that splitting trains is, from a business point of view, eminently sensible, and at least there’s something about this old-fashioned form of transport that is perfectly adaptable to the economic imperative. As for the parents-in-law, they still come to visit us (they are, in case you were wondering, thoroughly good sorts and welcome any time), but they now wend their way cross-country, approach pitfall-free from the west, and arrive, very sensibly, at Hove instead.