Due to a miscalculation as to how long the washing machine takes to finish, I only managed five hours sleep. It was raining and had been seriously wet over the previous few days. In hillier regions, water was pouring down into the valleys, running off the sodden hillsides and filling up the hollows. Oblivious to the movement of water in other parts of the country, I caught the 7.20 train from Kidderminster and settled in for a long trip to Scotland. Mel and I had flights booked from Aberdeen to Shetland in the early evening, and I was scheduled to arrive in plenty of time.
The first turd of the day hit the proverbial fan a couple of hours later, when I arrived in Crewe to find that everywhere north of Preston was apparently underwater, and nearly all the trains had been cancelled. I pushed on and got as far as Carlisle, but the barrage of flying turds was starting to increase in intensity. The entire rail network had been rerouted and the chance of catching our flight was looking more and more remote. I went on a wild goose chase to Wetheral station and back, tried to book a taxi, which wouldn't guarantee getting to Aberdeen in time, and finally gave up. I spent an hour on the phone and £200 rearranging the flights for the following morning.
The rerouted trains took me over to the east of the country and up through Edinburgh, where I talked to a lady going to the COP21 conference, and then on to Dundee. My favourite bit about Dundee station was that the sensor on the cafe's automatic doors was set such that passing trains opened the doors every time they went through the station. It made me laugh, and I needed a laugh. Mel had been unable to cancel our first night's accommodation in Shetland, and had had to pay for it.
I finally arrived in Aberdeen at something past 7 in the evening, and Mel was there to meet me. We decided to make the best of our first night's holiday and went to see the current Bond movie at the cinema. Waiting in the queue, the zip on my fleece broke and the zippy pull thing fell on the floor. We both looked at it, in a wtf way, wondering what else could go wrong. Ha! How little we knew.
Mel lives in university accommodation. He has a cell-like room, which we somehow managed to find enough floor space in for us both to sleep a bit. I can't say it was comfortable, but we made do. Mel decided to pack a loaf of incredibly dense self-baked tomato bread into his rucksack for the trip. It doubled the weight of his luggage.
2025-02-12