In choosing the title of this post, I debated between “Popsicle” and “Ice Lolly” - mainly because I know a lot of Americans ready my blog, and I’m not really sure if “Icy Lolly” is a common term state-side. How crazy does worrying about such trivialities make me sound ?
I left the house this morning at 6:50am, hoping to catch the 7:10 train towards Bourne End, with the long range target of arriving in Reading (pronounced “Redding” for those self same American friends) with enough time to have something to eat and maybe a coffee. It all went a bit wrong.
I wandered towards the station in Marlow, listening to my iPod, and suddenly noticed some guy waving in my face. I removed the iPod from an ear hole…
An Australian accent said “Train is bust - they’re sending a bus”
I smiled, rolled my eyes, waved, nodded, put my earphone back in my ear.
An HOUR later, I finally caught the train to Reading from Bourne End. It would have been quicker to ride my bloody bike. It didn’t help that the temperature fell to near freezing while we were waiting for the train. While turning myself into a scared tortoise, bedecked in Harry Potter scarf, I noticed some guy reading his paper with no gloves on, and thought “how has he got any feeling left in his hands?”
The train did finally arrive, but I was frozen solid.
Thankfully the rest of the day unrolled more or less like clockwork - and the british rail network surpassed itself once again on the way home when I arrived back at Maidenhead to discover that the supposedly connecting train had just left. I was left with 45 minutes to kill - which I did by drinking a ridiculously overpriced cappucino and flapjack. Since when has flapjack cost more than gold per ounce? I might set up shop just outside the station with a flapjack van.
Highlight of the day was arriving home to a warm house, three little girls who were excited to see me, and a lovely lady who cooked me roast dinner which somehow wiped away all the annoyances.