22 November 2012 - Dear Dairy #22
By Parson Thru
as forecast by minds better than ours, the much-hyped inclement weather has arrived. As I watch the gusts increase in intensity from my office window and consider the deluge that will soon be upon us, I wonder whether this might: a) bring some much-needed variety and b) delay my arrival at an annoying AGM this evening.
So I ignore the well-meaning advice of the lady who suggested that I leave early. I place my trust in those nice people at First to convey me home down twenty-odd miles of railway track or provide variety instead.
I had a very interesting dream, during the few hours that I slept, where I was travelling on an old train on a wonderful preserved railway that reached far across the country. I lolled around in a comfy old carriage with my media naranja until getting off somewhere around Bristol, she continuing on to the south coast.
I wandered around the old station, along the tracks and through vast concrete structures, stepping off the line to avoid approaching locomotives. Being a thoughtful type, I shouted "Train on!" to the people behind me.
Apart from losing my trousers, it was all fairly uneventful. I walked over a station bridge to the cafe, which was closed of course - the proprietor busy baking cakes. Train service times and destinations were chalked onto a blackboard. This was a fully-fledged steam service operating a British Rail franchise.
I heard from someone that a locomotive boiler had exploded, as they occasionally will, and killed the crew and a fair number of passengers. It seemed inevitable that the Government would respond to cries from the perpetually outraged to close the thing down, branding it dangerous. I hoped they wouldn't.
Don't know what happened to the trousers.
I may venture out to find a train soon. How exciting.