We have been working hard and the days keep on peeling away. There is a perpetual drizzle, but the only thing to do is put the brolly in the bag and keep on speculating about tomorrow's weather (cloudy with patches of sun, lows of 15, highs of 20).
Because we haven't really done anything of interest this last week, I thought it might be time to have a waffle about...
...the British railway, chuffing and choo-chooing its way across the countryside, with its food venders who really do say, 'annnnything from the trolley? annnnything from the trolley'? If you want to go anywhere that isn't local however, you need to pre-buy your tickets. We found out this unfortunate fact when we went to Portsmouth. We had purchased our tickets in advance but couldn't make the train because I was sick. When we turned up, two hours later we had to buy completely new tickets- two singles for 56 pounds! To the credit of Britrail, they refunded our unused tickets when I wrote to them explaining the situation. And that seems to sum up Britrail for you- a kindly (though expensive) paternal presence overseeing the to-ing and fro-ing of its customers. Their ticket inspectors look like kind, primary school teachers...the opposite of Cityrail's prison wardens.
And while we're on the public transport theme...
It can be quite a surprise the first time you catch the bus and hear one of your fellow passenger's barking. At first you simply hope that you don't catch whatever they've got, but then you hear a yelp...and the thud of a tail against the floor. And you can be almost certain they haven't bought a ticket. It's another fare dog-dger. The British really love their dogs...and take them everywhere.
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