You know that old adage about it being better to travel hopefully than to arrive.
Well, I never expected to have problems getting home from a trip . But if you have an idle moment, read on ...
I expected to get home and roll into bed at around 2.30 am. Finally made it by 5.00 am.
First our plane was held up by an approximately half hour delay at Gatwick. We set off late but made good time and would have been only about 10 minutes late to land - except there wasn't a landing slot available just then so we had to circle around waiting for one.
The pilot was excellent, keeping us totally informed every step of the way - except he forgot to tell us we'd landed at the South Terminal, not the North one, from which my easybus journey was going. So I missed my bus. And because I'd allowed an hour's wait at the airport I didn't know how long I'd have to wait for another. Sod the expense, I decided to take the train.
I reached for my purse, where I had my 'Freedom Pass', allowing me free transport within the London area. Oh damnation and every other rude word. It wasn't there. I'd had it out on the plane to buy a drink and must have dropped it. All my English money, too.
Fortunately, my debit and credit cards were in my neck wallet as always, and there was an ATM. So I got out some money and bought a ticket to take me to Clapham Junction, from where I could change trains to a station 10 minutes walk from home.
NO! The next train didn't leave in 15 or so minutes, but an hour later. So I got to Clapham at about 3.50 am. Wandered down the long avenue of platforms - from #10 right down to #1 - for my connecting train. Yes, it would come along in another hour and a half. Bother that, I thought, I'll walk it. So walk it I did, all the way home on my lonesome through the slowly oncoming dawn, arriving home just before 5.00 am and desperate for a pee.
And hurrah! I am cured of being afraid of walking alone after dark.
