Thursday 10th July 2025

I had it all planned so well.

Time to go home, so up at half six, have a shower. Then pack. Down for breakfast at half seven, drink lots.

Then walk down through the city to Central Station.

The city was waking up, delivery lorries and trucks everywhere, and between, lots of buses.

It was going to be another hot day, and I would spend it in a metal tube heading south.

Onto the station, and I saw there was a train leaving in ten minutes, and I was pretty sure I could travel when I wanted, just that the seat reservation that could not be transferred.

There was no ticket check at the platform. I got on the train, coach C, no reservations in this coach. I sat opposite a couple at a table for four.

The doors closed.

Next stop Carlisle.

The train pulled out, and there was the guard checking tickets. I kept them in the travel card wallet just in my leather wallet. I never take it out, heck, it even went to India and back.

But when I checked, it was gone.

Not there.

I checked in my bag, then wondered if I had left it in my hotel room. But in the meantime, I had no ticket, so had to buy a full price new one, as I could not show my discount card.

If I find the original ticket, I can claim the cost of the one bought on the train back.

If.

I called the hotel, and they guy went to check my room, turning it upside down.

He called me back: no tickets.

Bugger.

So, for the rest of the trip, I listened to podcasts, as the window was at a sort of oblique angle to me, because in modern trains, seats don't seem to line up with the windows.

How quaint.

The train was pretty full. But after Preston was full, standing room only, and more people tried to get on at Wigan and Warrington. Some stood or sat on the floor in the vestibule. And they had paid a pretty penny or two to do that!

On top of all that, the air conditioning in our carriage had failed. Jammed in like sardines, and so it began to get very muggy. People became irritable. The guy behind me said how cool the next carriage was when he went for a drink at the buffet.

Meanwhile the geezer over the aisle got through eight cans of beer before we got to London.

Whatever gets you through the day........

Finally, we reached London, easing into Euston, only to find massive delays and service suspensions on many Underground lines.

Lucky for me, I just had to walk down a leafy road for ten minutes to get to St Pancras to catch the final train of my trip.

I had half an hour to wait, the train pulled in, and I slid into a seat. Oddly enough, despite leaving at ten past two on a Thursday afternoon, the train was almost full. But the air con worked.

I dozed on the way home, passing the usual familiar landmarks passing by Maidstone, through Ashford and Folkestone.

And the harvest has begun, with a series of fields harvested, and only the stubble left.

Jools was waiting for me at Dover Priory.

She smiled, turned the ignition, and we headed off back up Jubilee Way to home.

Travel is nice, but its good to be back home.

We had a brew, talked about what had happened to both of us through the week. Cats were fed, and I made Caprese for supper, opened a bottle of XV.

And so in the cool of the evening, we sat down to eat. Toasted ourselves and tucked in.