There are fifty-five cities in England. Prior to May 2023, I had only been to twenty of them. I have just finished visiting the remaining thirty-five. In the last three years, I’ve had some great moments and some not so great moments. This list focusses on the latter. Usual disclaimer: don’t let these incidents put you off from visiting these cities. Do still go to these cities and see them for yourselves.

5. Hostel stay in Penzance

If there is one thing you should know about me is that I’m a big cheapskate. I’m always looking for ways to save money. That’s why all my city trips are day trips. Train tickets are expensive enough without adding a hotel stay to the mix.

However, Truro – Cornwall’s only city – is a five hour train ride from London. By the time you get there you have to go back home. I had little option but to stay overnight. In line with my cheapskate ways, I slept in a hostel. Not a hotel.

Alas there was no suitable accommodation in Truro, so I got a hostel in the nearby coastal town of Penzance. The main advantage of a hostel is the cheap price. The disadvantage is you’re sharing a room with a bunch of strangers. Some of which snore at night.

I was knackered after my journey so I fell asleep quietly enough. Unfortunately I woke up to thunderous snoring an hour later. An hour after that I was still awake. in the end, I gave up and went to sleep in the communal lounge downstairs. Not the best night’s sleep, but at least I got to sleep. It was a shame, as the hostel itself was very nice, I think it was once a stately home.

Other than that, I enjoyed my time in Cornwall. But, not for the first time, my cheapskate ways backfired on me. I wish I had just coughed up more money for a hotel.

4. Fatherless shitheads in Preston

Generally I’ve had no problem with meeting the locals. Some have been very friendly. There has been one notable exception however. Preston was founded on the river Ribble. There are multiple high-level bridges crossing from one side to the other. Upon walking along the river, I saw these pre-pubescent kids loitering about. I just knew they were going to cause trouble.

I was right. As I was walking under the bridge, a waterfall of mysterious liquid crashed down beside me. Those little shitheads were obviously trying to splash me. After I emerged out the other side, a full bottle of something hit the ground in front of me. I yelled and swore at the little pricks. When I was a safe distance away, they yelled and swore at me. Obviously they were under the impression that their balls had dropped when they were still as flat as a pancake. Anyway, my adrenaline took me back to the city centre and away from further trouble. Probably for the best.

Their fathers could yell at them later. Wait. No they couldn’t. They don’t have fathers as they ran out on their pregnant mothers claiming they only wanted to buy milk and cigarettes from the shop.

3. Homeless in Bradford

Out of the eight different Yorkshire cities, Bradford has one of the worse reputations. Like many northern cities, it used to be an industrial powerhouse – once boasting a thriving textile industry. But also like many northern cities, it was absolutely devastated by deindustrialisation.

Although there have been efforts at regeneration, the city has never fully recovered. That can be seen in the amount of homeless in the city centre. it was very sad to see – obviously through no fault of their own.

There was a plus side though. I bought a Too Good to Go bag from Pret a Manger. I got so much food I 3/4 of it away to the homeless. At least I was able to help a little bit.

2. Nightmare train journey from Doncaster

If I was being really unfair, I could say that my entire day trip in Doncaster was my worse moment. And it was. You can read why here. But if I were to be more specific, I had an absolutely awful train journey home.

I had the misfortune of travelling during Storm Brabant which was wreaking havoc in Edinburgh Waverly where my train started. Or where it would have started as it was cancelled. I had to get another train fifteen minutes later. No harm. No foul.

Except there was a big foul back in London, as we were delayed just outside of King’s Cross. Due tot he congestion caused by Storm Brabant, we were held between Finsbury Park and King’s Cross for over an hour. OVER AN HOUR. But this was nothing compared to…

1. Nightmare train journey from Worcester

Unlike Doncaster, I had a very nice day in Worcester. I went charity shopping, saw the cathedral and stroked a cow. It was on my way home when things went wrong.

Remember how I said I’m a huge cheapskate? That applies to trains as well. To save money, I bought a return ticket that involved me having to change in Rugby and again in Birmingham. Don’t do that, friends. Pay more money and just go direct.

Originally, I was supposed to get the 1940 train but that was cancelled. I had to wait an hour for the next one. This meant I had to skip out my Rugby connection and go to Birmingham where I got on the first LNWR train home. Let me give you some advice if you want to take an LNWR train. DON’T. Take an Avanti train instead. Why? Avanti is an express route whereas LNWR stops at EVERY SINGLE STOP EVER.

I got on the train at half nine and wouldn’t get back to London Euston until midnight. Not ideal, but early enough that I could make the last train home. Everything was going to plan until we got to Hemel Hempstead – a Hertfordshire town sixteen miles out of London. At 23.45, our journey had stopped. Five, ten, fifteen, twenty…thirty minutes later we were still waiting there. I was going to miss the last train home at this rate.

Just as I was looking up taxi prices, we started moving again. It was 12.15 at this time. Why the long delay? A suicidal male on track. The train driver then explained that his shift was finished and he had been instructed to kick us all out to wait for the next train. Instead he resolved to drive us back to Euston. An absolute legend. Hero of the hour. A man looking out for other men.

However, despite his valiant efforts, I would not get back in time to get the last train home. But remember how I said that LNWR trains stop at EVERY SINGLE STOP? This train stopped at Harrow and Whealdstone. From here, I took the Bakerloo line to Kenton, walked to Northwick Park, got the Metropolitan train and then a bus. Five and half hours later, four trains and a bus later, I had made it home. It was 2am at this time. I had gone to Worcester on a Monday and returned on a Tuesday.

This story does have a happy ending though. Firstly, I received a hefty amount of compensation and secondly I emailed LNWR praising the heroic train driver for getting us home. They replied saying he would receive a special commendation int their company newsletter.

Usually in these travel listicles, there’s some type of message or lesson to be learned. If there is anything to take from this article, don’t be a cheapskate like me. pay for a hotel. Pay for direct trains.