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.