“When the Circus Took a Day Off: A Surprisingly Smooth Journey from Cardiff to Wellington” (Yes, Really. No, I’m Not Joking.)

It’s not often I am able to write my tale about travel without a side of chaos, a dash of disaster, and a generous sprinkle of accessibility rage—but here we are. Brace yourself: this one’s a story of things going… right.

I know. I was shocked too.

The journey began at Cardiff Central, where—for once—the stars aligned. The accessible entrance was open, the lifts were functioning (I checked twice, just in case I was hallucinating), and the staff were helpful, friendly, and refreshingly unfazed.

Boarding was simple. No logistical gymnastics, no last-minute dramas. . Honestly, it felt mildly suspicious.

The train rolled toward Shrewsbury, and I found myself nervously eyeing the time. A seven-minute connection lay ahead—usually the kind of tight change that sets off a full internal monologue of doom. But this time?

It was fine.

Really fine.

The connecting train was already waiting when I arrived and it was on the opposite yet adjoining platform. I transferred trains with time to spare. No stress. No sprinting. No chaos. Just a straightforward, seamless change that felt so rare it almost needed commemorative bunting.

The second leg of the journey was just as smooth. And yes, in case you’re wondering: my Disabled Railcard was now actually in date. A true plot twist.

But here’s the cherry on top: when I arrived at Wellington, my husband was able to park on the same side of the station where my train arrived. No lift needed, no grand tour through town dodging potholes and pigeons, no epic trek to retrieve the car from the opposite platform. Just a simple, straightforward pick-up. I could’ve cried from the sheer convenience of it all.

Smooth journey. Minimal effort. No logistical circus.

It shouldn’t feel remarkable, but it does. And while Wellington’s station still hasn’t caught up with the 21st century in terms of accessibility, today, at least, it didn’t get in the way.

So here’s to a rare, glorious moment when public transport behaved itself. May it happen again—ideally before the next leap year.

Paula’s Travelling Circus: taking a rare intermission—but we all know the clowns will be back soon.

Of course, even the best-case scenario still comes with a price when you’re living with chronic illness.

The trains were on time, the staff were lovely, everything went as it should—and yet here I am, back home, completely wiped out. Body crashing, energy drained, every muscle aching like I’ve run a marathon (spoiler: I have not).

I’m back in bed, where I’ll probably be for the next few days, doing the all-too-familiar recovery dance: rest, pain management, more rest, and the slow shuffle back to baseline.

This is the part of travel no one sees. The part that doesn’t get mentioned in glossy rail brochures or cheerful accessibility reports. Even when everything goes right, chronic illness still takes its toll.

If anyone needs me, I’ll be buried under the duvet and pretending I don’t have a suitcase to unpack.

 

 

#livingwithchronicillness

#fibromyalgia

#fibromyalgiaawareness

#AccessibleTravel

#DisabledAdventures

#SmoothRideMiracle

#RailwayRedemption

#CardiffToWellington

#PaulasTravellingCircusTakesABreak