Five questions answered on the annual rail fare rises

Risen three times faster than average incomes since 2008.

Annual rail fare rises take effect today. We answer five questions on the annual commuter price hike.

How much have rail fares increased by?

On average, fares have increased by 4.2 per cent.

Though it varies for different rail operators, overall ticket prices have increased by 3.9 per cent in England, Wales and Scotland.

How are rail fare price rises calculated?

They are calculated using the Retail Prices Index (RPI) measure of inflation plus an additional percentage.

The additional percentage added to the RPI was reduced in October last year from 3 per cent to 1 per cent by the government making a total of about 4.2 per cent.

Any fares that go up more than the average must be balanced by others that rise by less than the average, or that fall.

How does the rise in rail fares compare with the rise of people’s income?

According to the Trades Union Congress (TUC) average train fares have risen nearly three times faster than average incomes since 2008.

Which fares have been affected the most?

London commuters using the busses, tube, trams and DLR can expect to pay 4.2 per cent more today than yesterday.

One steep rise is an unregulated return between Birmingham and London which went up by 10 per cent, although this actually only adds £2.50 to the fare.

An off-peak day return between Bristol and St Austell in Cornwall is now £75.60 - a rise of 40 per cent - from £53.10.

Although, some tickets have only risen by as little as 2.3 per cent with one ticket from Shenfield, Essex, to London now £16 cheaper, after a 0.6 per cent drop.

What have the TUC said?

Frances O'Grady, general secretary of the TUC and chairwoman of Action for Rail, told the BBC: "At a time when real wages are falling and household budgets are being squeezed, rail travellers are being forced to endure yet another year of inflation-busting fare increases.

"As well as having to shell out record amounts of money for their tickets, passengers also face the prospect of travelling on trains with fewer staff and having less access to ticket offices. They are being asked to pay much more for less."

Annual rail fare rises take effect today. Photograph: Getty Images

Heidi Vella is a features writer for Nridigital.com

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Why do the words “soup, swoop, loop de loop” come to mind every time I lift a spoon to my lips?

It’s all thanks to Barry and Anita.

A while ago I was lending a friend the keys to our house. We keep spare keys in a ceramic pot I was given years ago by someone who made it while on an art-school pottery course. “That’s er . . . quite challenging,” the friend said of the pot.

“Is it?” I replied. “I’d stopped noticing how ugly it is.”

“Then it’s a grunty,” she said.

“A what?” I asked.

“A grunty. It’s something you have in your house that’s hideous and useless but you’ve stopped noticing it completely, so it’s effectively invisible.”

I was much taken with this idea and realised that as well as “grunties” there are also “gruntyisms”: things you say or do, though the reason why you say or do them has long since been forgotten. For example, every time we drink soup my wife and I say the same thing, uttered in a strange monotone: we say, “Soup, swoop, loop de loop.” How we came to say “soup, swoop, loop de loop” came about like this.

For a married couple, the years between your mid-thirties and your late forties might be seen as the decade of the bad dinner party. You’re no longer looking for a partner, so the hormonal urge to visit crowded bars has receded, but you are still full of energy so you don’t want to stay in at night, either. Instead, you go to dinner parties attended by other couples you don’t necessarily like that much.

One such couple were called Barry and Anita. Every time we ate at their house Barry would make soup, and when serving it he would invariably say, “There we are: soup, swoop, loop de loop.” After the dinner party, as soon as we were in the minicab going home, me and Linda would start drunkenly talking about what an arse Barry was, saying to each other, in a high-pitched, mocking imitation of his voice: “Please do have some more of this delicious soup, swoop, loop de loop.” Then we’d collapse against each other laughing, convincing the Algerian or Bengali taxi driver once again of the impenetrability and corruption of Western society.

Pretty soon whenever we had soup at home, Linda and I would say to each other, “Soup, swoop, loop de loop,” at first still ridiculing Barry, but eventually we forgot why we were saying it and it became part of the private language every couple develop, employed long after we’d gratefully ceased having soupy dinners with Barry and Anita.

In the early Nineties we had an exchange student staying with us for a year, a Maori girl from the Cook Islands in the southern Pacific. When she returned home she took the expression “soup, swoop, loop de loop” with her and spread it among her extended family, until finally the phrase appeared in an anthropological dissertation: “ ‘Soup swoop, loop de loop.’ Shamanistic Incantations in Rarotongan Food Preparation Rituals” – University of Topeka, 2001. 

This article first appeared in the 21 July 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The English Revolt