The Shortened version of today's events

I'm up, had breakfast and on my way to Nottingham train station ready to start hobby number 1. The suspense is over. Today I am going to spend a day train spotting.
I have brought a dictaphone and will be recording the day as it happens in a style similar to Kent Brockman. Here goes.

I have arrived at Nottingham but am too scared to record any numbers, fear someone I know recognises me. There is a guy at the north end of platform 2 who appears to be looking at trains so I am going to have a chat with him. Be right back.

I have discovered two things. Firstly I appear to be dressed in the wrong clothes. I need to be in jeans with a very baggy gusset or very worn cords. I should have white trainers or hush puppies on and I should be wearing a check shirt and have railway pin badges attached all over it. Secondly I am in the wrong place. Apparently the Mecca of trainspotting at present is Doncaster.

I am now on the train to Doncaster. I haven't bought a ticket and have had to hide in the loo twice and pretend to be asleep once. I wasn't prepared to change clothes so I will have to stick with what I have on. I have a pen and paper to record said numbers on and a camera to take pictures.

Just arrived at Doncaster, fuck me it's full of old men. It looks like a conference for Tenna man. I have had a quick count and there is well over 150 grand-dads here running round like lunatics. I am going to try and mingle and see if I can find out what one is supposed to do. If any of you reading this have a nanna who is single and needs seeing too then send her for a day trip to Doncaster. Tell her to hang about at one of the platform ends with a long lens camera around her neck and she will get a boning to remember.

I have been chatting to a few of my fellow 'bashers'. I have already learnt some of the important terms in this sport as I am now calling it. Bashing, copping, tracking, cabbing to name just a few. It has become apparent that I am going to struggle to infiltrate this gang due to me not having the correct equipment. I have considered nipping to Millets for said costume changes.

I have bought a railway magazine and am waving it about as I walk towards the end of platform 4. This appears to have worked as I am getting a few nods of approval. I am missing a camera with 8 inch lens, binoculars, video camera and proper book to mark the numbers in but this does not appear to be too much of a problem. Hang on they are all running away. I am following east towards platform 6 and they have stopped. I ask pleb boy to my right what is happening and apparently a freight train is coming through. I take out my dictaphone and pretend to speak the numbers into it. There are men here jumping up and down with excitement. Some are clapping each other on the back and one is ringing his mate who went to Crewe today to tell him he just missed a rare un.

There is a guy here who is blind and trainspotting. I am going to have a chat with him.

I think I might have upset him. I asked him about what he did and put it to him that he was a train listener. He told me that when one goes by he asks someone what the number was and he then reads it into his recorder. After I mentioned that people could be telling him fake numbers I have now discovered that there is a code between spotters.

Been sunbathing for a bit and chatting to a few of the guys. I think I am in the inner sanctum. I did have an ace up my sleeve. I took with me my train drivers assessment certificate. People older than my dad have been asking to have their picture taken with me and Eric has just bought me a cup of tea. Gerry looked suspiciously like he had an erection when I briefly let him hold the certificate.
I am now very popular.

I have just been told to be ready for a non-stopper. Everyone has assumed a crouched position along platform 4 and their eyes are firmly fixed left. Whoosh. The fucking thing just went by at 125mph and I didn't even see the colour. Everyone else got the numbers. The blind man even knew the the first two numbers from it's sound.
Fuck me.

Rob is top spotter, he is the boss-man apparently. I am chatting with him and I seriously need a shit and I have told him that I will be back after I have had a dump. The conversation went as follows.

Rob:  You might miss a train

Me:    it's OK

Rob:  Here take my walkie talkie so we can stay in touch

Me:   Do you want to listen to me having a crap

Rob:  No, don't be silly, I will contact you should something good come along

Me:   Er - OK, thanks, I'll do the same should something come along

I am now walking to the gents with a fucking walkie talkie.
I have assumed the crapping position and think it only right I should try it out.

Me:   Rob, this is Bri, - over

Rob:  Receiving spotter2, this is spotter1, is everything OK? - over

Me:   I have just seen a double header in dark brown – over

Rob:  Spotter2 can you confirm from which direction – over

Me:   North – Over

Two minutes elapsed while I sat there unable to wipe my arse due to laughing.

Rob:   Spotter2, was that a joke – over (in a serious voice)

Me:    er, yes

Rob:   Spotter2, you did not say over can you can confirm end of message – over

At this stage I contemplated wiping shit on the button and mouthpiece of his walkie talkie, but refrained.

Rob:   Spotter2, this is spotter1, The Royal Train approaching from the north, ETA 2 minutes – over

I completed my de-logging and gave the radio back and received a telling off. The walkie talkie system is for serious use only. I hung my head and apologised wishing I had indeed wiped shit on his mouthpiece.

I can hear shouting, I am off to investigate.

There are two old men having a very heated argument. It has resulted from the following. A freight train has just gone through (somehow I was too busy watching a pigeon shit and missed it) and Herbert insists that the last wagon number ended in 07. Frank on the other hand is adamant that it ended in 09 and they are squaring up. Herbert is swinging his bag behind his back and looks ready to launch it at Frank at any moment. Rob (the supreme super spotting supervisor) has intervened. He has ordered a guy who looks similar to what Andrew Lloyd Webber would look in about 75 years and suffering major face trauma from a hammer, to review his video for possible evidence.

Rob has ordered Frank to leave platform 4 and go to platform 2 and spot from there. I am struggling to contain myself from shitting myself with laughing as this man in his seventies trundles off, head down listening to a chorus of tuts from his fellow comrades. I find out later that he has been given a one hour platform 4 ban.

I have collected 93 numbers and have decided to go home after I have collected 7 more. I have severe sunburn as I forgot to wear a hat. The majority wear ones that are a design similar to those used by train drivers in the early 1940's. My nose looks like the end of a match.

I have in a strange way enjoyed myself today. Not really sure what I have been doing but I have seen people doing what they enjoy and I respect them for that. After all people collect thimbles and beer mats and all sorts of other things. These guys get to spend days travelling around the country and see parts of the country I have never even heard of.

My next escapade is to be bus number spotting. Cant wait (can)