Capaldi

I was supposed to be off on the sleeper to London; despite the inconvenience, there’s always something quite exciting about the prospect of the overnight to Euston. An adventure. Something romantic too, in strolling through to the buffet car and ordering a whisky and water to be sipped as the long train pulls out under the shadow of the castle. Gathering speed out through the suburbs into the dark coutryside until there’s only the occasional farmhouse or small collection of houses to whistle past. And then, draining my glass, saying goodnight to the steward and making my way along the tight corridors through to settle into the small cabin, there to listen to the rhythmic patter of the rails and feel the slight rocking of the carriage as I drift off.
Damn! Late afternoon, I got word it was cancelled. The London end people weren’t going to show. That was my planned blip ruined. And no whisky and water either. Unless of course…..