rARsh!

Didn’t we have a lovely time?

Well, what can I say? Two nights in a cheap TravelLodge with no air conditioning in the centre of London in temperatures approaching 40ºC and another twisted ankle (well, the same ankle twisted yet again) were not the highlights of the trip.

When I left you on Monday I’d forgotten to amuse you with my Tale Of Woe from the previous evening.

As midnight approached hot’n’sweaty Aaalburgh I began to worry about not waking up in time to catch my train. Not being with BT any longer, I knew I couldn’t use their service so I looked online and found Tele Wake-Up.

I clicked their “I want a sample” and entered my mobile’s number, noting their statement:

Your test call will arrive in the next five minutes

I waited.

And waited.

I then realised that clearly they don’t provide this service that late at night to avoid being complicit in prank calls and so tried to sleep.

At five past one the phone rang with some “humourous” message intended, I suspect, to show their efficiency combined with a sense of humour. I didn’t see the joke.

Needless to say I’ll not be subscribing to their service if the time of the call is subject to a margin of error of +/- 60 minutes!

I made my train, though, changed at Chavtown and found Nice Married Lady (my travelling companion for the day) sat in First Class.

“A single to Leeds, please.“, I’d asked when the conductress arrived.

“Fifty three pounds, please,” she joked in return.

“Ah, but there isn’t any first class available between Norwhag and Peterborough.”

“I know. That isn’t the first class fare.”

Eek.

Changing at Peterborough, we got into Coach F as NML had a reserved seat. It was a little on the warm side. Very much so, in fact, and I commented once or twice on the temperature.

We met the third member of our group on the platform in Leeds and found out that she’d been on the same train … in coach C … where the air conditioning had been working nicely. Grrrr.

After the episode described in my previous post I got to the TravelLodge at about a quarter to seven to find two messages on my phone. The voice mail from from Tall Andy, asking me to call him when I arrived. The text was from Mr Hassle, asking where I was and suggesting I contact him on my arrival.

I called T.A., explained my location and he said he’d be over to fetch me. This worried me, but I let it pass.

I then replied to Mr Hassle’s text and got the reply “Tall Andy’s on his way to fetch you.”

“With his sense of direction? Are you mad?”

Fortunately, T.A. hadn’t been sent off alone. Les was acting as sherpa on the trek - quite why they’d gone so far from the hotel when they knew I was due to arrive is, well, never mind.

All went well until yesterday evening during our amble back to the hotel along the South Bank. Outside the film place I failed to notice that there were adjacent two cobbles missing and, of course, went over on my left ankle. It’s always my left ankle - one of these days it’s not going to be just a twist, I know. Still, at least it’s my clutch foot rather than my accelerator/brake foot - I hate to think how uncomfortable tomorrow evening’s drive would be otherwise.

Still, I’m back in Aaalburgh now, if only for a night. Time to unpack and repack the overnight bag and skim through my mail.