“Hi Dad,” I say. “There’s a train in sixteen minutes.”
“You must have just missed one,” Dad says. “Poor you. I thought they were every few minutes this time of night.”
Am writing this in the open-ended waiting room which is just a glass lid on two glass panels. It’s dark and very cold on the station platform and am wearing just one glove so can type.
On the plus side: achieve Pyramid Training at spin earlier. It’s a ghastly thing where you sit-stand-sit-stand every few seconds for two minutes, then sit and race for two minutes, then repeat. No breaks or rest tracks for forty minutes. Photo taken before the horror:
1. A walk with LabradorInParis and his owner.
2. Lunch with Mum:
Happy Friday everyone!
*1937. By Agatha Christie. Hercule Poirot detective novel.