Looking Back

 

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 Most of the regular FB posters I know have blogs. We all mean to be regular correspondents, but all find time just wizzes by and before we’ve even thought about it another month has gone by and all our interesting news is still waiting to be celebrated.  When I went to London in August, I fully intended to mark the occasion with a facinating blog. I was on the whole rendered, if not speachless, certainly at a loss. There were FB posts and photos easy and quick, but not the same some how. I’m still not sure how to describe the outing we did some very eventful things in a very uneventful way. The only thing I can do is to string together all the things that made me smile, the people who were good company and made me laugh or were oh so helpful. In many respects the people were the highlights, and what we did although very inportant, and as far as I’m concerned life changing,  were joined together by happy people. From where I live to get the Caledonian Express to London I have to go North to go South. I went to Glasgow, furnished with maps, mobile phone, and a good deal of anxiety. I would like to say here I’m not good at excitement, but I’m a past master at anxiety and fretting. To continue, I got lost. I followed said map, took every turn as I thought, and ended up the other side of the city from where I was supposed to be. A phone call, much touching of half seen phone screen maps, and up pops a voice, with the certainty of every computer, talked me back to where I needed to be. Where I needed to be was about half a mile from the motorway intersection I came off on. The sun shone, my friend laughed, I’m too relieved and glad to see her, rather flustered, and I haven’t even got to the train. I know I won’t get lost on the way to the station, I’m to have a lift. 3 hours of marvellous catching up, and a trip through the City all lit up.  10pm, Central Station, a superb place, I’m there, Trains there, the Boss, who has the tickets, knows where, when, and what, isn’t. Text. Expected arrival 11.15. through all this a little bit of my brain is still working. Luckily so is my friend. Allowed on to the platform, I’m met by Andrew, checked on the list, and allowed on to the Train. Friends are hugged, and waved off, knowing they had done their bit to get me from point B to C, the rest is probably in the lap of the gods. I’m not on my own, I have an Andrew and then a Stephen the Head Guard. It is now 11.35, still no Boss. I did think I heard his dulset tones a few minutes ago. People around me in the Lounge/dining car are ordering dinner, Haggis is chosen, I’m not too far gone to wonder how any one can eat haggis at that time of night never mind on a sleeper train. As memories are fickle things I’m still not sure if the train started to pull out the station 11.45, before, or after the Boss appeared in the doorway, which ever it was it was a pretty close thing. For the Boss this journey is a regular occurrence, me?  I may never recover. Head Guard Stephen Is excellent company, much amusement that I have brought my own tea, and a tea strainer. If I ever have need to do this journey again I’m not sure I will be any better equipped mentally, but at least I will know what to expect. The Boss  on the other hand is an accomplished and seasoned traveler, and takes all in his stride.  7am, off the train and waiting for the Virgin Lounge to open. We don’t need to be any where until noon. Time to catch up. Then it’s making full use of the amenities, recharging phones, listening to the BBC Scotland interview, from the day before, watching the comings and goings and planning who to see before we are where we need to be at Noon. We went for Morning Tea at the Ritz. Some times you just got to do these things.

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