Have you been on a train with a child recently? Was it the equivalent of trying to give yourself minor dental surgery in a crowded lift? Probably.
Let’s start with the most obvious one; no British train that I’ve ever taken (and remember, I can’t drive, so I’ve spent a lot of my life on these things) has a designated buggy park. Which means that if you arrive onto a train with a miraculously sleeping child, you are going to be either ordered to pluck your child from their bed, fold up the buggy and then lift it onto an almost-certainly full luggage rack (and who, I ask, is holding your baby as you do this? Well nobody, of course); or you have to stand in the bicycle storage area, or outside the toilet and pray that the guard is sympathetic enough to turn a blind eye. Bear in mind that you’re travelling, so the buggy is also probably stuffed with bags, snacks, nappies, an unaccountable number of sticks or hats or balls, or a portable potty, which you then have to jumble into your luggage, or manoeuvre into an overhead compartment, all while the now-disturbed infant wails on your hip or screams on the floor. If city buses can accommodate pushchairs and wheelchairs and luggage then surely it is not beyond the capabilities of a long distance transport company to do the same? But this is just the tip of the molar.
The British rail provision for children and parents speaks to a wider cultural attitude; one probably best summed up by the phrase “piss off”. This week, a friend was kicked out of the quiet carriage because her toddler was reading a book on her lap. Obviously she hadn’t booked onto the quiet carriage – the algorithm had placed her there, despite the fact that she had booked a child ticket along with her own. She wasn’t leading a rousing chorus of “Baa Baa Black Sheep” from seat 47, nor was her child shouting, watching a noisy device or throwing a sippy cup against the window. But still, a member of the public felt entitled to ask a stranger to leave her paid-for seat specifically for the misdemeanour of travelling with a small child. Because my friend is a saint, she justified that maybe the woman who told them to leave was having a bad day, or a migraine, or had a very important piece of work to finish. She didn’t argue or cause a fuss. After all, this is the same woman who spent two hours with her baby sleeping in a bassinet a few years ago because she’d been told to dismantle her buggy. But is this really how we want to live?
According to the Campaign for Family Friendly Trains, there are Austrian trains with specific family zones, with cinemas and tables decorated with board games. In Finland there are carriages with specific pram areas, and play areas. In France and Germany you get childproof sockets for bottle warmers and fold down changing tables. Some Swiss trains even have a slide, for god’s sake. I’m not asking for free massages and a wet nurse on every Cross Country service, but a clean floor to crawl across? A couple of plastic bobbles mounted to the wall to play with? A soft seat that doesn’t inflict head injuries on a wobbly toddler, perhaps? If neighbouring countries can achieve this, and get to their stations on time, and provide a buffet car, surely Britain can too?
Privatised rail companies (don’t even get me started) don’t carry much data on how many children under four travel on their services because these puppy-sized passengers don’t have to buy tickets. Which makes it easier, I imagine, to simply dismiss, ignore or reject calls to accommodate babies, toddlers and small children in something approaching a civilised way. If you’re not counting them, they don’t count. Which is certainly the message communicated loud and clear as you’re wedged into a windowless intercity carriage, 10 metres from your pram, with no means of warming food or formula, no space for crawling, nowhere to change a nappy and the seething sense that some people on this train would rather you simply un-existed.
As the summer’s heatwaves slowly crystallise our sense of urgency about climate change, trains should be the first choice for travelling parents. No ambient air pollution, no vice-like car seats, no traffic jams, room to move around, a view out of the window, people around to interact with; when they’re good, trains are brilliant. But until British trains stop treating small children with less respect than a dog, or bike, or inanimate suitcase, then we’re never going to tempt people away from their personal petrol-powered engines.
Oh, and if you’re travelling on a train, and feel tempted to tell a two-year-old who is happily reading a book on their parent’s lap that they’re the problem, then just have a little think about who the problem might actually be.