14 JUNE 1957, Page 12

Consuming Interest

By LESLIE ADRIAN DOES travel—I was asked recently—count as a consumer interest? Of course : it is a con- sumer service and one in which most of us have an interest, often a passionate interest; particularly rail travel. And One point on which a number of people seem to have strong views, I find, is the booking of seats.

On journeys between London and other in- dustrial centres, Birmingham, Manchester, Liver- pool, it is sometimes difficult to book a seat in advance : the quota of seats bookable has been taken up. Yet it is common to find that only a small proportion of the seats which have been booked are claimed.

Recently I found myself the only passenger in a compartment in which all the seats had been booked. As soon as the train started I was joined by two men who had been standing in the corridor, expectantly. One of them told the other that he had tried to book some days before, unsuccessfully; it annoyed him to find so many of the booked seats unoccupied. His com- panion agreed : `Looks like a fiddle, doesn't it?' he said.

This is a common experience and a common reaction. There is quite a widespread belief that booking-office clerks and porters at certain London termini run a mutually profitable racket in bogus booked seats, dividing up the tips which come from seatless passengers. The ex- , planation is simpler; that businessmen find it convenient to book on two or more successive trains, or two or more successive days, as it only costs a shilling a time; so that they can be sure of a seat whenever they want to travel.

I had a word on this subject the other day with Mr. J. H. Brebner, who is the Public Re- lations Adviser to the British Transport Commis- sion; and he conceded that the explanation is often correct. But what, he argued, can BR do?

Various ideas have been suggested to stop multiple bookings. It would be easy to demand a travel ticket at the time of booking, but this might be hard on people who save for their family holidays and cannot afford the full purchase money in advance. It would be easy to increase the booking fee, but this would mean an increase in the cost of travel, which BR are understandably anxious to avoid.

Has anybody got any better idea? I have a notion that BR would welcome it, because the present system, by encouraging multiple booking, also encourages a belief among the travelling public that 'fiddling' is in progress—particularly on trains which are normally crowded and where the sight of so many booked seats remaining empty appears sinister. But obviously the problem is not easy. What, I wonder, do other railway companies do, in similar circumstances?

We get so accustomed to complaining of things which are not what they used to be that it is pleasant to receive an encouraging report of an institution associated with an earlier generation —the Turkish bath.

A friend of mine was due to leave London by air late one evening, but, while he was doing his best to enjoy a farewell dinner, the airline rang from time to time with news that the flight was being put back; and finally, at midnight, he was warned for seven the following morning. A bed was offered, but he nobly refused to inflict on his hosts the disturbance of departure at dawn. At that time of night a hotel is not easily found, and he decided to go to the Jermyn Street Turkish bath.

He had never really believed the electric sign which says 'OPEN ALL NIGHT,' but he found the reception alert and efficient—efficient enough to return to the street the next guest, who claimed a distinguished title but was considered drunk enough to endanger the serenity of the institution. My friend half expected to experience some falling-off in standards at two in the morning- `Boiler-man goes off at ten, you see'—but the heat built up, if anything, as the night wore on; and when the only masseur in sight found his hands full he cheerfully rang the bell for two of his colleagues to assist.

After the bath, sleep : ended with a cup of tea. At six in the morning no surroundings look their best, and the dormitory of the Turkish bath had clearly seen better days. But my friend claims it was faded rather than decayed; and he left not only refreshed, but delighted with the cost of his lodging : 15s.

One of the most useful consumer services which have arisen since the war is the automatic `Launderette'; and I was amused to hear from Mrs. Mary Gibb, who runs one of these institu- tions (just round the corner from Sir Winston's home in Hyde Park Gate), how the social barrier was broken, in its early stages.

The first clients, apparently, were full of curious worries. Some of them did not relish the idea of their smalls being washed, as it were, in public; it was even suggested that the windows of the machines might be fitted with lace cur- tains. But the scruples were finally broken down by the patronage of a distinguished American. She arrives weekly in a Cadillac, out of which a chauffeur lifts a large clothes basket, puts it on a sorting table and leaves m'lady to get on with the weekly wash.

I had no idea of the variety of articles which launderettes are now expected to contend with. One man turns up regularly with a dinghy sail. A German customer showed Mrs. Gibb how even feather pillows can be washed successfully in the Bendix machines. Ironing, however, has presented more difficulties. One branch tried pro- viding rotary ironers, but too much supervision was needed and the scheme had to be dropped.

What may not be generally, known, I fancy, are the services which some of these launderettes now provide unofficially; for example, the staff in some branches can arrange for ironing to be done; and others have drying cupboards—par- ticularly useful to the small flat-dweller when blankets or curtains have to be washed—and so on I will be glad to supply addresses of the places where some of these unofficial services can be obtained, for anybody who wants them.