Welcome To Basingstoke
I have a cartoon on my wall, which shows rolling English countryside, with in the distance a mushroom cloud from a nuclear explosion rising into the sky. In the foreground, a man is saying to his friend.
“The Russians can’t be all bad. They’ve made Basingstoke a first strike target.”
I have other reasons to dislike the place, as an old accountant of mine suggested, I put some money into a property development there. I lost several millions and could have lost a lot more, but I had better friends in high places. It was an expensive lesson and now I don’t trust financial advisors, especially when they have nothing to lose from recommending a bad investment.
So for only the second time in my life, I went to the place to a funeral of an old friend.
I had plenty of time, so I hoped I’d be able to get a bus to the crematorium. I knew I could take a taxi, but I object to doing that, as they are expensive and often rip-off merchants.
I found the bus station, which is quite an unfriendly walk from the train station and they told me there was no bus to anywhere near the crematorium. What would cash-strapped pensioners have done? Walked.
I should say, that the web page for the crematorium doesn’t have any instructions about how to get there on public transport. How arrogant!
It should be the law that certain places in a town or city like the hospital, crematorium, tourist office, main shops and council offices are easily reached by bus from the station. On my travels around the country, I found a lot of places, where these rules were broken.
I shall not be going to Basingstoke again unless it is to change trains to somewhere more welcoming.