How to panic in style… a continuation of the story I started yesterday. (Just scroll down – it’s the post before this one. You can thank me later for making you exercise your fingers.)
So there I was – alone on a cold platform – with the knowledge that the train on which I had left my rucksack would be thundering past without stopping at our little station…
I phoned Sir Pe in … yes, you guessed it! … a panic. “You have to drive me to the next station! NOW” I said in dulcet tones screamed down the phone. The kids were rounded up, their evening meal unfinished, and thrown into the car. Sir Pe picked me up and we dashed to the next station.
A train drew up and I ran through the compartment looking for my rucksack.
I ran down the platform, still half-bawling, half-mad (it’s a fetching look and highly appropriate for the upcoming Halloween season) and, without any difficulty, managed to attract the conductor’s attention.
“Your backpack? Is it red and green? Don’t worry – I’ve got it!”
“You’re an angel!” I gushed as he unlocked the room on the train where he had stashed my offending bag. “You’ve saved me! Thank you.”
“It’s all part of the service,” my angel smiled, brown eyes twinkling in a face that has seen far more than this.
“I just want you to know that you’re still an angel!” I cried, resisting the temptation to throw my arms around his cheerful round body.
So there you have it: what a week and it was only Monday. A day in which I lost my luggage and my mind, and was saved by an angel, a knight in shining armour and two small side-kicks.
My luggage has been restored to me… So that leaves only one question.
Have you seen my mind?