Three words to chill my heart: ‘Change at Mallow’
Anybody who travels knows only too well those nowhere places at our stations and airports — like the wintry platform at Mallow — that are badly in need of a bit of imaginative design, writes .
There are two Mallows in County Cork. There’s the town, a welcoming, bustling place where I once spent two happy years. Then, there’s the other Mallow, also known as ‘Change at Mallow’.
In stark contrast, that is a wintry, desolate station platform where I have also spent two years. At the very least.
Train commuters — in particular those travelling between Dublin and Kerry — will know what I mean. Iarnród Eireann cleverly calls it Platform 2 and Platform 3, but I call it Permafrost.
Nobody is ever warm there, even in summer, and I suspect that Permafrost, Co Cork, is the only place in the world where the rain falls horizontally.
It seems to defy gravity, slanting in at impossible angles where its hits, face-on, those misfortunates awaiting the arrival of the Dublin (or Kerry) train.
The station’s high roof and its nice iron fretwork provide no shelter at all. To make matters worse, the cosy
waiting room is easily visible across the tracks on Platform 1. Its warm, lit windows wink out at us. What rotten teases.
I’ve been in it, but never on the journey to Kerry. Those travelling to the wonderful south-west seem to be condemned to attempt the Ice Bucket Challenge, but without the bucket or the money raised for charity.
The people at Iarnród Eireann may well have statistics that disprove my theory, but all I can say is that I’ve been stranded on Ice Floe the last 26 times I’ve travelled between Dublin and Tralee. (I’m a little ashamed to admit that I’ve kept a record.)
I can also tell you this: there are six trains daily between Dublin and Kerry and five of them include a Change at Mallow.
Don’t get me wrong. Mallow is a really nice station. It is well-kept and clean and, at one point, even had a large model of Thomas the Tank Engine and another of his red friend, James, although both were standing on distant, privileged Platform 1.
Nonetheless, I love trains and have spent a travelling lifetime admiring the signal offices and beautifully painted signs in the many stations between Dublin and the end of the line, Tralee.
I remember that the Mallow sign used to carry the Irish name ‘Magh Ealla’, which apparently means ‘swan meadow’. It now goes by the more prosaic ‘Mala’, which I’ve seen translated as ‘eyebrow’.
Is this in recognition of the many eyebrows that were raised on Arctic Circle last week as we waited — not long, it has to be said — for the Dublin-bound train?
One woman stood close to me (I was glad of the person-generated heat) and said that Iarnród Eireann should think about erecting a shelter on Platform 2 and 3.
“It needn’t cost much, just a prefab or some sort of lean-to,” she said. “And we need a toilet too.” Reasonable demands, I thought.
She recalled a time many years ago — the polar problem is not new — when a woman with a days-old baby was left shivering and distraught while she waited for a connection.
“I gave her my scarf, but they still haven’t done anything,” the lady said, shaking her head as she took off up the platform to stay warm.
Benches are provided, but it’s often too cold to sit still. However, it is interesting to observe how people deal with a whipping wind. Some fold their arms and tuck them as close to the body as possible.
Others pace, but most people seem to lift their shoulders towards their ears and attempt to pop their heads inside their coats — probably because they want to obscure the view of the waiting room on the wrong side of the tracks.
There is also a vending machine on Platform 2 and 3, but just when you’ve promised yourself a Galaxy, you
realise that you don’t have the right change.
If, by some happy co-incidence, you fish out the right coins, the train always arrives before you have time to do the transaction, in the same way that a bus always hoves into view the minute you light a cigarette.
None of these observations are meant as a criticism of our rail service. On the contrary, I’m a huge fan of the Irish train.
What harm if you can rarely make out what they say on the intercom, although on one occasion I did hear a clear-as-crystal voice ask if anyone had masking tape just minutes after explaining that the current stoppage was due to a faulty brake.
Stoppages still happen, but there’s always the trolley service. In recent years, I’ve been particularly struck by the genuine politeness and professionalism of the people who operate them. And I’m a big fan of the trolley’s oat biscuits.
When I arrive into Heuston station, I always press the smiley face with the broadest smile on the ‘Happy or Not’ feedback system, although what those data collectors reveal is beyond me.
What I really want to tell the ‘Happy or Not’ machine is this: Iarnród Eireann does a lot to make its travellers’ journeys more comfortable, but perhaps it’s time for planners to spend time in the places they design.
Walk in a commuter’s shoes before you ask them to wait on a platform, in a roadside queue, or at a bus depot.
There isn’t an appropriate button to say all of that, so I give an overall thumbs-up because there’s already far too much whingeing when it comes to public transport.
The point remains though. Anybody who travels — trains, planes, buses, trams — knows only too well the harsh reality of those nowhere places at our stations and airports.
Permafrost in otherwise warm-hearted Mallow is a single example, but it shows how a little bit of imaginative design — in this case, a shelter that really shelters — can make a big difference to people’s lives.
In the meantime, I’ll be booking the only direct train from Dublin to Tralee.
