So for the next two weeks, I'm going to turn the Bright Side into a bit of a travel blog. When I go on holiday, I always keep a diary of what I do, what I see, what's new, surprising, challenging, different, and quite a lot about what I eat. I also take lots of photos. So I thought I'd try transferring from paper to laptop for this holiday. So back to the very beginning...
Right well, Joe and I finished work on Tuesday afternoon. Got home, farted about for a bit, panicked when my hand luggage was over the alloted weight, then got over it very quickly. Lord and Lady Bay Taxi service came to collect us and took us to the station. We were very canny and got the Bays to load up their car, not only saving our delicate backs, but also foxing the burglars into thinking it was them going on holiday and not us. Er-hum, yeah right. We are not paranoid about being burgled AT ALL.
Anyway, here we are at the station, full of excitement.
So we gets on the train, and this is what happens, ten minutes into our journey...
That's right, the train breaks down. To cut a long, boring and at times excrutiating story short, we were stuck on the train for nearly 4 hours. We were kept going by detailed,, but uninformative annoucements, supplies of crisps, nuts and shit coffee and hot chocolate and by the amusing complaints and panic attacks of fellow dramatic passengers. Although, I have to say, just as hour three began, I did seriously start to think that we might be on the train forever as the staff just wouldn't tell us how it would all end, like how long would it be before they realised they couldn't fix it and if they couldn't fix it but weren't prepared to let us get off the train onto another one, how the bleep would we ever get to the airport.
Anyhoo, Jack rang just in time to save me from the ridiculous (but crucially still internal) catastrophic thoughts, during which we were told we'd be going to Derby then taken by taxi to our final destination. So, although we were only 400 yards from East Midlands Parkway station (the convenient public transport gateway hub to the East Midlands), and therefore less than a mile or so from the M1, we had to go back north up the country on a further hour's journey just so we could travel south again.
Well, well, well, the final leg of our "epic" train journey consisted of Joe and I and three strangers squeezing into the back of a hackney carriage cab and being driven to London by a man who didn't know where he was going or how to drive. However, I had a great time chatting to the man I sat next to, who was an Osteopath from Melbourne. Joe had a challenging time, as he ended up sat on one of the fold down seats for two hours. Although he'd bagged a nice comfy normal seat, we were joined by a man who refused to travel backwards as he assured us he would end up puking up all over us. Thinking about it now, I think we should have told him to go and get in another taxi. Joe was a hero, but unfortunately the osteopath, kind as he was, didn't quite feel up to giving Joe a treatment on the roadside in Crouch End at 2am, which was the time we arrived at Emma and Pete's. Only 4 hours late.
So we went to sleep pretty quickly, getting a luxurious 4 hours sleep, before getting up, bouncy and refreshed (er-hum) for our trans-atlantic ride in the iron eagle the next day.
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