As I’ve said before, when I arrived in Staines seven years ago, I felt as if I had arrived in heaven on earth. The church and presbytery (what Catholics call the priest’s house) are both opposite the station. It didn’t take long before I took advantage of this situation. As a newly appointed parish priest, my first concern was to try to build on and develop what was an already vibrant and welcoming community. But what more could I do? We tried parties, we tried barbeques, and I even toyed with the idea of re-ordering the church so that it would be impossible to go to Mass and not have to look at someone else. In the end, however, a far better solution presented itself – the parish trip.

In many churches, where parish trips occur, it is usually by coach, but having experienced quite a few coach trips, I was not sure how the this would appeal to our young families. Also, being cooped up in a coach seat for hours is not that conducive to helping parishioners get to meet and make new friends. The location of the railway station and the fact we have a decent-sized car park meant that rail was by far the easiest mode of travel, as not only was it cheaper, but it was also more flexible, and far better fun. Many of our families did not travel regularly by rail, and this added to the excitement of our trips. We started with a simple trip to London, and over successive half terms and holidays, we travelled as far afield as Bristol, Cambridge, Bournemouth, and even Watford. Our parish trips now attract 50 – 60 participants, with a good mixture of ages, and are an established part of parish life. Pick any Friday morning in school half term, and you will likely see a large crowd causing havoc on Staines station at 9.30 am. 

Our most recent parish trip was to Cardiff. “Cardiff?”, one of our (Welsh) parishioners asked, “I didn’t know there was anything to see.” Nevertheless, after a bit of hard sell about ‘the Nice of the Bristol Channel’, we soon sold all 64 of the tickets I’d rashly purchased from GWR. On the day of departure the forecast was mixed, so the group gathered in the church hall ready, it appeared, to climb Mount Snowdon. After distributing tickets and arranging the crowd into small groups, we were off on the 08.53 to Reading, a varied group of parents, small children, teenagers, grannies, and a dog. The journey to Reading was uneventful and we arrived with plenty of time to connect to the ‘famous Intercity 125’ to Cardiff. With reserved seats across four coaches, we arranged ourselves along the platform where expected our cars to stop, only to discover at the last moment the train was in reverse formation. Not only that, but there were two coach Es, and coach D was B at one end and D at the other. After much slamming of doors, and waving of reservations, we claimed our seats and settled down. As the train picked up speed along the pretty Thames valley, members of the group started to head to the buffet car for a cup of tea – and then came back again as the water boiler was broken. However the hassle of boarding, the lack of tea, and a few minutes late arrival did not dampen our spirits. The sun was shining and we were on a parish trip – what could be more fun?

We arrived in Cardiff just before midday, and were immediately hit by a wall of warm air. Maybe this really was the Welsh Riviera? The sun shone all day as we walked as a group around the city before smaller groups peeled off to do their own thing. Cardiff Castle, Cardiff Market, McDonalds, and the Catholic Cathedral (where a few of us got a surprise personal tour with the Archbishop of Cardiff) were the preferred sights. In the afternoon most of the group ended up at Cardiff Bay, and when it was time to head home, we crammed aboard the Bay shuttle. “I’ve never seen a train with just one carriage”, said one of the children – we’re a lucky bunch living in Staines with our endless procession of ten-car trains.

Cardiff Bay itself was a pleasant, chilled place, where our group took boat rides, queued for ice cream, some had lunch, and made use of the luxurious toilets in the Arts Centre. The Ianto Jones Shrine and various Doctor Who locations added to the overall feeling of glamour and exoticism.

The journey home was like the journey there, just in reverse. The buffet car was providing a full service, and the children seemed to make endless journeys there and back – when they weren’t drawing, colouring in, or playing with their devices. An hour and forty minutes is not long when everyone is having fun and with a quick change and a headlong dash at Reading, we made it back to Staines, dog and all, in two and a half hours – a ‘parish best’.

The verdict on Cardiff was that it was a lovely city, that it was good how many people spoke English, and that it was amazing that they even had a Marks & Spencers in a different country. Sunburned, tired, and content, our ‘pilgrims’ headed home.