In all five minutes, from 12.02 to 12.07, it never occurred to me that I was standing right by my train. Only when the train has disappeared and I heard the announcement of the train to Blackpool and saw a change on the timeboard, only then did I realise that I have just missed my train to Liverpool.
I’ll be going to London again at the end of this month. I won’t be surprised if I end up in Glasgow.
In fact, when yesterday I was checking train times on Nationalrail.co.uk, the system didn’t reply to my query straight away, claiming a mistake. There could be several reasons for a mistake, including this one:
…you may be looking for an unexisting destination, e.g. London to Birmingham via Glasgow…
Anyway, my heart warmed when I saw this ITN video of a hugging lion. I think it’s a good proof of the animals being able to 1) think, 2) be human (almost). If anybody puts this video up on YouTube, please let me know. We all need that lion hug. 🙂
As a matter of fact – this is just a piece of professional knowledge, nothing else – Gerald of Wales, a 12th c. chronicler, in The History and Topography of Ireland mentions a story of a lion falling in (and reportedly making) love with a lady. He claims to have seen that in Paris. Unfortunately, Gerald has got a very prudish take on this story, maintaining the impossibility of such behaviour. Well, as we see from the video, this ‘beastly love’ was probably nothing more, but an affectionate hug.
Update. Thanks to Craig who has heard my plea to find the ‘lion hug’ video on YouTube… and here it is! Thank you, Craig! And thank you to the rescuer, we all commend you!
Mood: *purr*
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When I was a lad of about 15 and living in Chester, I had to have some work done on my teeth (the result of a nasty playground accident many years before). So Mother and me headed off to Liverpool on the train to see a specialist who fitted a brace.
That night (stop me if this is getting to long), that night part of the brace came away from one of the teeth it was attached to. So the next day I had to go back to get it fixed, only Mother wasn’t able to come with me so I had to get the train on my own.
So I dashed off to Chester Station on my own, alone. (Still with me?)
Anyway, I jumped on a train that said on the front ‘Rock Ferry’ (we had to change there and this was in the days before electronic boards on the platforms telling you the train’s destination). It didn’t move.
After about ten minutes it pulled out of the station and into a goods yard. All the lights went out and I sat there all on my own (no other passengers) in the dark. I could hear raised voices from the next carriage. The driver had walked down the train and discovered someone idiot who managed to get on the wrong train, and he was dragging him my way.
I explained that I got on the train because it said Rock Ferry on the front. He rather sarcastically pointed out of the window to dozens of other trains parked up, all showing Rock Ferry as their destinations.
Anyway, to cut an epic short, I ended up having to be reversed into Chester Station, stopping just short of the platform, scrambling off and climbing up on to the platform where the real train was.
That day the Chester to Rock Ferry service was running twenty minutes late due to two numbskulls who’d got on the wrong train. I have lived in fear of repeating this adventure every day since.
As a postscript to this tale, several years later I was working as a waiter in a hotel where they had a dentist’s conference. There, on display for all to see, was a blown up picture of my mouth. No way would anyone have been able to recognise it as mine, but for the entire day I keep my lips firmly together.
Wow, that’s a story, Richard! But, frankly, I’d probably do exactly the same – get on the Rock Ferry service that heads God knows where…
Thanks God, you’re with us! 🙂
Yeah and my teeth are not too bad either.