Once Upon a Time (a Moral Tale)

I really should have known better. I’m making a filial pilgrimage to Norfolk. I’d call it a flying visit, if it wasn’t for the fact you can no longer fly direct from Glasgow to Norwich.

I played the organ this morning, went home to homemade soup, then headed for Norwich by train.  (It was a more appealing option than a long drive, mostly in the dark, and the prospect of icy roads later.)

So …

  • Glasgow to Edinburgh
  • Edinburgh to Peterborough (LNER buffet delivers tea and fruit cake to your seat! Kudos to LNER)
  • Peterborough to Ely
  • Ely to Norwich
  • 22.22 reach hotel.

There was only one setback. You can’t get anything to eat or drink from Peterborough to Norwich,  unless you pay a vending machine via Contactless.  I took this to mean, ‘using your phone’ – which I’ve never done.  (Only later did I wonder if card payment might also have worked…)

No buffet-car on the trains, and not really time to leave the platform in search of sustenance.

And so my Sunday dinner, at 22.22, was this:-

Better than nothing!

I had also apparently booked a hotel room with no breakfast. This has now been rectified!

I said this was a moral tale. It’s this: one should never, ever venture into East Anglia on a Sunday night without a sandwich in one’s handbag (and a drink in a flask)!

Paddington Bear and Queen Elizabeth could have told me that …

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