Technically it's Monday, as the train leaves at nine minutes after midnight. And it's on time - in fact early - which is nice, since VIA sees fit to provide info only for the Windsor Quebec corridor, hundreds of miles to the east of us, after business offices close for the day. Relatively easy to find the info for making claims when the train has been several hours late, an obvious admission that this happens frequently, but no method for avoiding spending said hours in the station instead of in the comfort of your one's home. Actually Patrick, who is seeing off a friend, says that, surprisingly, if you keep calling the number that professes to be for business hours only, eventually (and presumably randomly) someone may answer.
Notice the sign on the toilet wall requesting that passengers refrain from flushing while the train is in the station. But surely raw sewage is no longer spewed on the tracks? No? Well, googling reveals that this is indeed still the case. Not only here but in The UK as well - and quite probably most of the rest of the world, to which my computer set up is less sensitive. VIA claims it would take government millions to acquire holding tanks, the British papers are full of complaints, railway workers are subjected to disgusting effluent, and the Atlanta centre for disease control insists there is no health hazard. There you have it.
The train is warm enough - not a given - and only half full, so we have the comfort of two facing double seats. Almost lying flat space as the footrests can be made to meet at seat level.
Train in at 7 - an hour early - and we're allowed to disembark at half past, once the station staff are on duty. Ian kindly picks us up after dropping Susan at work. Our first visit since he retired. Some advantages here, as he heats potato soup made with potatoes from Susan's garden. Very nice.
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