Dearie me, we are going to have an eventful journey tomorrow.
Not nearly as eventful as a lot of other people’s journeys, I hope.
Keen followers of current events might possibly have noticed that we are going to have difficulties in Huntingdon at the far end of our journey, where some dreadfully disturbed chap rushed up and down the train stabbing people yesterday. At least, I assume he was disturbed, it seems to be a bit of an over-reaction to British Rail’s usual irritations like leaves on the line and the engine having a flat battery. Huntingdon Station, which is where we are going, is still closed, probably whilst the police swab upsetting stains off the platform.
I do not know what you do if you wanted to go to Huntingdon, presumably book a holiday somewhere else.
We will find out tomorrow, I hope.
That was just the beginning.
We woke up this morning to the news that a train has been derailed on Shap Fell, probably because half of Shap Fell slid down on to the line in the shocking torrential rain we have been having lately.
It is going to take some time for sufficient chaps with shovels to be martialled together to go and dig it all out and to shove the train along to the next station, and hence all trains to the north of England have also been cancelled.
Windermere is on a little branching-out bit of that line and hence might or might not be affected. Certainly there were no trains today.
The prospect for smooth and contented railway travel is not looking bright at the moment.
We are going anyway, not least because we have just spent two hundred quid on the tickets and also we are dying to collect the new camper van. I expect the chap whose van it is is even more enthusiastic at the prospect of getting it off his drive after all this time.
Hence we have spent today getting all of the week’s jobs done, being the dusting and hoovering, the watering of the conservatory, and the Clean Sheets. We will be able to return with a clear conscience and time on our hands. Well, apart from the time that we are supposed to be spending on fixing cars and hauling firewood and painting Advent calendars and recording Audible stories. Nothing to do except that lot, obviously.
We have also got to dispose of the old van. We still have not organised that.
We had a minor setback this morning when I took the takings to the Post Office and discovered that amongst them were two home-made twenty pound notes. They were reasonable forgeries, but Nigel behind the counter spotted them right away, one of us must have missed them in the dark. If you are in any doubt about your cash, these are a bit greyer than the sort made by the Government, and don’t have all of the watermark bits. Also they both had the same serial number, it ended in 46.
I told the rest of the taxi drivers, helpfully, so that they could all check their cash, but all that happened was some ridicule about putting new ink in our printer.
I do not know if there will be a diary entry in these pages tomorrow, most probably not because we are Travelling Light and hence will not be humping a computer along with us. Please do not be alarmed at my absence. If I have been stabbed on a train or had half of a hillside slide down on my head I am sure somebody will tell you all about it sooner or later, probably more excitingly than I ever could.
Keep your fingers crossed for us. If anybody is of a religious bent I would be grateful if perhaps you could consider doing some sort of God Distraction Ceremony so that any bored Gods are looking the other way and are not entertaining themselves dreaming up amusing train-travel interludes.
Take your clothes off and dance round a bonfire or something.
I hope it doesn’t rain.
