Monday, 5 August 2013

A day at the races...

flesh to the fore...
young fillies
old nags,
flab and flubber
muscles and tone
thighs to crack a walnut.
All forms of human life were
on the Knavesmire
to run the York 10k.
Not a horse in sight!

Putin in training for when he eventually 
leaves office

Sunday early morn in Kent;
first train out to London.
I was on a mission.
Those of the folk that have the misfortune to 
know me, are all too aware I do love a surprise.

Aaron was running, and what's a mum
to do when her only child is competing?
Don't get me wrong, I'm anything but a
gooey-wooey mother.
Battle-axey, more like.

First light found me catching our local 
Sunday equivalent of the milk train.

Kings Cross... 
first train to York 9 am.
Compartments tin-tight with
Oriental sardines
 off to the Edinburgh Festival...

First stop York...

Flying out of the station,
the tide of red faces tottering home,
sort of told me, I was a tad too late!
The race was in its dying stages.
These were the elite runners,
keen for the train to do the puffing.
as in the days of John Betjeman
it surely would.

As I arrived at the finish line,
the unfit were breasting the tape.
My phone beeped...
'I've done it!'
Sent half an hour before.
Too late!

Pounding the streets,
over the Ouse to find them.
Another text...
'Shall we make the lunch booking for five?'

'Already done!'
was my two word reply as 
I turned into their road.

What's a girl to do?
When, is a surprise, a surprise?
I'm all at sea now.

After a superb family lunch,
I was back on a third-full early train home.
A good day...
But wait...

The train slowed,
stopping at St. Neots.
The guard announced that
 we might be delayed
by two hours, two hours?
When only half an hour from London.
How could that be?
There was a collective groan from the carriage. 

A person had been hit by the train ahead of ours.

'We are unlocking the doors to allow
 you out to stretch your legs!'
Obviously by the smoke coming from the platform
to allow those who do, to puff to their
hearts content, or not, as the case may be?

I got out to phone home.
It really winds me up people talking on the phone
in railway carriages.
I do have a loud voice, due to years of
public speaking, well that's my excuse.
Others might have a different take on it!
Imagine Brain Blessed in drag...
that dear readers is me.

They re-opened the buffet.
I smugly walked down the train
on the platform, thinking
what a very clever idea LL!
Err... trouble with that was, I then had to
shimmy past the two carriage lengths of
people in the queue.
Not so smug now!

Small bottle of Chilean wine,
bag of crisps and a good book.
I was content in my little corner of
the carriage.
Other folk not so!
Spare a thought for the poor
body on the line, kept bubbling up in my
mind, as folk muttered and cracked funnies.  

I was late back last night,
happy to be home safe and well.


  1. Sounds like a nice day trip LL, all things considered. I never leave home without a book ~ never know when you will be left waiting or stranded.

    1. It was a good trip Carol, added to which I had three books in my bag.


  2. Only you Linda, only you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1

    1. There's not a lot I get my knickers in a twist about. Life's too blooming short, as today's return trip illustrated.


  3. Great story! It was funny and real. I could see it all happening. It was like the old Morton salt thing, "when it rains it pours." Nice you had an umbrella.

    1. 'Funny and real' sort of sums up my life David. I once gave a talk to a WI (Womens Institute) who thought my talk was far fetched. I was so upset, because I thought to myself, if I'd told the story of that particular chapter of my life as it really was... What the blooming hell would they have said then? 'Nowt so queer as folk!' as they say in Yorkshire. And the word queer isn't what it means today... it means odd.

      Happy Days!


  4. So...battle-axey with the offspring - gooey-wooey with the Mr, perhaps?
    THAT's where I went wrong, then.

    1. Errrrrr... Nilly sweetheart, I'm afraid to say I'm a battle-axe BIG TIME with all and sundry.
      That's why I'm struggling with not yet 50 followers. All the great and good who read my blog, probably think to themselves... 'She's a madam!' And you know something, they could be onto something!

      How the devil are you lassie?