So I get to the station this morning, thirteen minutes to go, to be honest a bit later than I would have liked thanks to both of us being in a bit of a flap (a busy day to come for reasons too numerous to go into) and Thomas (little blighter!) not wanting to wake up this morning, even though whenever we have plenty of time (Saturday and Sunday for example) he seems to be ready to be up and bouncing at about half past five...I turn and jog down the hill from where Flyingpops and Thomas have waved me off and (sh1tsh1tsh1tsh1t) find myself at the end of a queue of ten people waiting for tickets *face+palm*...
I check the time - eleven minutes to go - the odds are not good, but it's not impossible...the queue, keeping me hopeful, moved fairly quickly - five minutes to go and only three people ahead - three minutes to go, two people...I shuffle uncomfortably, clutching ticket and bank card in hand...
Then *finally* the very last (very old) guy in front of me steps up to the window and (to my horror) in a thick Eastern European accent begins a very long, and almost impossible to understand sentence about something that happened in 1988 (Why??? Why me!) - the train is announced on the tannoy system, I glace at my 'phone - less than one minute remaining...!
The ticket lady answers the conclusion to the old gentleman's question with "Sorry love?" (rather than something useful like "that'll be eleven fifty please") and it is at this precise moment, as the train pulls up on the platform (and I almost explode with frustration) that I remember I had last Monday off as holiday, flick open my ticket (like Kirk from Star Trek opening his communicator) and realise it's still valid today!
Where I was previously standing, a swirling dust cloud and the sound of a banging ticket office door are all that remains...
*Phew*!
2 comments:
Phew!
Haha! TYou should write a book!
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