Travelcard Crazy

I walk everywhere.  But once in a very blue moon I find myself the proud owner of a day travelcard, zones 1-4, and I go just a little bit travelcard crazy…

In the world of urban magic, this is a genuine medical problem.  Magic long since passed the point where a griffon’s feather was a source of power – true power lies in the Zones 1-6 London Travelcard, good for free transport on every bus, tube, tram, light railway and overground service within Greater London, and a hefty discount on the river bus too.  I mean, if this isn’t urban power in ticket form then frankly, nothing is.  And like all things with surplus power attached, it’s perfectly possible to go mad with a travelcard; thus, a traveller may find himself standing at Leicester Square wondering how to get to Piccadilly Circus and sure, the two are visible one to the other, but oh no!  When in possession of a travelcard something as simple and easy as walking fifty yards is unforgivable!   Trains must be caught, buses must be used – as many as possible, ideally – and even if they take you miles out of your way you’ve still gotta use them, because that is the magic of a travelcard.

When I was a kid I went to school in Hammersmith.  Grew up on the other side of town, mind you – right on the other side of town in Hackney.  (‘Is that anywhere near Kensington High Street?’ asked one perfectly affable 12 year old in a geography lesson once, when we were discussing our home boroughs.  The answer, dear reader, would be a resounding no.)  I had a travelcard, and prided myself on never quite taking the same route into and from school every day.  I circled round my final destination like a hungry vulture in a butcher’s maze, sometimes striking from the north via Piccadilly Line and a bus, sometimes from the south via Northern Line and a different combination of buses, for Hackney is not renowned for its tube connections.  I took the Hammersmith and City Line for a while, until I realised that the stations between Goldhawk Road and Royal Oak were full of bigger, scarier people than me in my baby-pink school uniform.  (It wasn’t a uniform big on dignity.)  Then I switched to the Piccadilly; then realised that the Piccadilly didn’t have anything on the Victoria Line, then discovered that actually, a Victoria-Northern Line combo was a deadly weapon.  Violin lessons in the Barbican were an especial treat, as I had an option on at least five perfectly justifiable tube stops I could get off at each of which would lead, in roughly even times, through entirely labyrinthine passages, to the same destination from a completely different direction.  Travelcard craziness was how I got to know most of central London, picking my way between tube stops with the reckless disregard of someone who knows that if I do get horribly lost, there’ll be a bus to somewhere where there’ll be a tube to somewhere else where I’ll probably be able to pick up a route I vaguely know in a reasonable direction.

Now that I no longer need to commute across half a city to get to school, I have travelcards less frequently, and thus go a little bit more bonkers when I use them.  This weekend, for example, I needed to get from my home to the Old Kent Road for a job interview, and then to a wedding in Putney, and then back home. I can proudly report that I managed to achieve this, with my travelcard, through use of four tube lines, three buses, two mainline trains and if only the service had been running on a weekend, I damn well would have taken the riverbus too.  Sensible, level-headed geographical planning goes out of the window.  I see a bus heading vaguely west, and I am heading vaguely west, and I will jump on it with a cry of ‘ah hell, it’ll probably work out for the best!’   So all things considered, my advice to you would be… beware travelcard madness!  And perhaps every now and then, give into it too.