I just got in from a bit of an adventurous afternoon, and I write that in both a good and bad sense. You might remember that a few weeks ago I blogged about visiting Battersea. It was my first time there, and I was quite taken with the area. So much so that I determined to go back soon to explore it properly. This morning, lying in bed before I got up, I was wondering what to do with the day: trundling around east London is fun, but sometimes I fancy a change. I wondered if I could get to Battersea again.

At about midday, then, I set out. My initial plan was to catch the usual bus to North Greenwich and then take the Jubilee Line from there. On the bus, however, I was struck by a far more interesting idea: I remembered that both North Greenwich and Battersea have Thames Clipper ports, so perhaps I could get the boat there. I didn’t hold out that much hope of a direct connection, but thought it was worth asking.

That, then, is what I did. Getting off the bus I popped down to the great river Thames, and to my surprise was told that there was indeed a clipper service straight to Battersea, and that it would arrive in twenty minutes. The afternoon had suddenly become rather fun.

The boat which arrived was one of the smaller ones in the fleet, but I nonetheless was able to get on quite easily. I then sat back and relaxed, watching the city float by on either bank. It took over an hour to get to Battersea, but I wasn’t in any hurry. The clipper, I decided, was much more fun than the tube. I was even told that there was a bar, although it wasn’t the time to buy anything from it. Of all London’s forms of public transport, this was one of my favourites.

At about three I found myself in Battersea. That didn’t leave me much time to explore, but I was already pleased with what I had established. As I had found a few weeks ago, Battersea is one of those incredible areas of London which doesn’t seem like anywhere else; a gentrified, cosmopolitan splurge of redeveloped money which makes you wonder how it was all paid for. I looked around the shopping arcade for about an hour or so, before starting to think about getting home.

That was when the fun began. As the boat had taken so long, I thought it would be wiser to take the tube back. I didn’t remember it being very difficult: I knew there was a way, but couldn’t remember exactly what it was. I found my way to the nearby tube station on the northern Line. The station was perfectly accessible, and I saw the link would take me up to Tottenham Court Road, which was also marked as accessible. From there I saw I could get the Elisabeth Line to Woolwich, and getting home wouldn’t be a problem.

Perhaps I misread the tube map or perhaps it simply lied, because when the train got to Tottenham Court Road I soon saw that there was no way on earth that I was going to be able to get my powerchair off the train. I panicked as the doors shut; I was suddenly in trouble. The next stop, somewhere called Goodge Street, wasn’t any better, but at that point my fellow passengers could see I was fretting and offered to lift me and my chair onto the platform. I said ‘yes’: it was either that or ending up zark knows where.

Once on the rather blustery platform, someone kindly offered to press the button to get assistance for me. I soon realised that Goodge Street was one of those stations badly in need of renovation – there wasn’t a ramp or lift in sight. Without help I would be very, very stuck. Fortunately the assistance guys didn’t take long to come, yet were at a bit of a loss about what to do. There weren’t any ramps at the station. After a lot of head-scratching though, they radioed someone at Euston and asked them to bring a ramp from there.

About half an hour later and feeling rather irritated,, I was back on my way. It turned out that Tottenham Court Road did have a level-access platform for the Northern Line after all, but you have to sit in the right train carriage – something that should have been a lot clearer. Going via the shop, I got home about an hour ago. What had started off as quite a cool day had turned into a bit of a disaster, but I suppose all’s well that ends well. At the – literal – end of the day I got home in one piece, and days like these really teach me about getting around the metropolis. While there’s still so much work to do to make the public transport system totally accessible, I nonetheless always seem to be able to get to where I’m going, be it via bus, tube or boat. Mind you, from now on, I must remember to sit in the right train carriage.