Day 48 Preston - London (Saturday 5 May)
This was the end of a most enjoyable visit with fluffyllama and her husband. They took me in to Preston station, on a lovely sunny day (though it clouded up later).
The station information bloke was helpful (almost unheard of, that feels like): he not only told me my platform, he also advised that I could catch an earlier train to Manchester (where according to my tickets I had to change trains with a very short time and a long hike). This gave me an extra 15 minutes in Manchester, but still left me time to queue up at two station cafés in turn to get a hot chocolate and a panini for lunch on the train (the chocolate maker in the first café was broken).
I found in Manchester that I could have made the connection in the 17 minutes allowed (by the skin of my teeth), but was glad I had more time. I was able to drop into Boots to get more paracetamol (no, the cold has not gone; it's found a new lease of life: I woke up with one eye weeping gunk - sorry if that's TMI!). Also, I was at the platform in time to get a seat (the reservation system kicked in, partially, two stops down the line) and a place for my suitcase (the baggage space wasn't big enough for Lottie, I think). I dozed uncomfortably most of the way to Euston: the carriage was overheated, the seats were horribly upright - no doubt an attempt to shoehorn one more row of seats in, and the woman opposite was determined to take exception to everything.
However, I was quickly able to get a bus outside Euston, and a kind person took my bag off for me (maybe I'm looking particularly decrepit). As the Kings Cross stop is closed due to roadworks, I hopped off at St Pancras and walked to my hotel the back way (Argyle Square again, but a different hotel).
I have a first floor room: clean, and adequately furnished, with a view of the Square. Imagine a king size bed, then add two feet to the end of it. That's the size of my room. The bed is jammed right up against the heater (which, yes, is working); to get a little further away from the heat I had to move all the furniture in the room (easy, it's even lighter than Ikea stuff) and narrow the space to get at the toilet door to something I can just wriggle through. Fortunately the room has excrescences off two corners which accommodate a roomy shower and a cramped toilet. It also has a bedside light, hoorah. I shall be comfortable, these three days.
My plan was to get dinner at a fish restaurant fluffyllama recommended, but by the time I got to Euston I was glad I hadn't remembered to phone them to reserve a table from either station. I lay down. After a while I crawled under the duvet and dozed. I ate the other half of my very nice Upper Crust ham and mozzarella panini for supper. By 8:30 I couldn't stay awake any longer. So it won't surprise you that I was wide awake at 3 am.
About 9:20 I thought someone was trying to start a small war. In the near distance, it seemed, came first single "shots" or explosions, then multiples, for about 10 minutes. No sirens, though, for some time, so I decided it was just odd fireworks and rolled over. Looking at the news this morning didn't enlighten me. The Olympic stadium was opened last night, but with a mass balloon release rather than fireworks, going by the video clip on the BBC. And Stratford East is rather a long way from Kings Cross. A mystery.
It would be pleasant to catch a little more sleep before heading for the V&A for a busy day of exhibitions.
The station information bloke was helpful (almost unheard of, that feels like): he not only told me my platform, he also advised that I could catch an earlier train to Manchester (where according to my tickets I had to change trains with a very short time and a long hike). This gave me an extra 15 minutes in Manchester, but still left me time to queue up at two station cafés in turn to get a hot chocolate and a panini for lunch on the train (the chocolate maker in the first café was broken).
I found in Manchester that I could have made the connection in the 17 minutes allowed (by the skin of my teeth), but was glad I had more time. I was able to drop into Boots to get more paracetamol (no, the cold has not gone; it's found a new lease of life: I woke up with one eye weeping gunk - sorry if that's TMI!). Also, I was at the platform in time to get a seat (the reservation system kicked in, partially, two stops down the line) and a place for my suitcase (the baggage space wasn't big enough for Lottie, I think). I dozed uncomfortably most of the way to Euston: the carriage was overheated, the seats were horribly upright - no doubt an attempt to shoehorn one more row of seats in, and the woman opposite was determined to take exception to everything.
However, I was quickly able to get a bus outside Euston, and a kind person took my bag off for me (maybe I'm looking particularly decrepit). As the Kings Cross stop is closed due to roadworks, I hopped off at St Pancras and walked to my hotel the back way (Argyle Square again, but a different hotel).
I have a first floor room: clean, and adequately furnished, with a view of the Square. Imagine a king size bed, then add two feet to the end of it. That's the size of my room. The bed is jammed right up against the heater (which, yes, is working); to get a little further away from the heat I had to move all the furniture in the room (easy, it's even lighter than Ikea stuff) and narrow the space to get at the toilet door to something I can just wriggle through. Fortunately the room has excrescences off two corners which accommodate a roomy shower and a cramped toilet. It also has a bedside light, hoorah. I shall be comfortable, these three days.
My plan was to get dinner at a fish restaurant fluffyllama recommended, but by the time I got to Euston I was glad I hadn't remembered to phone them to reserve a table from either station. I lay down. After a while I crawled under the duvet and dozed. I ate the other half of my very nice Upper Crust ham and mozzarella panini for supper. By 8:30 I couldn't stay awake any longer. So it won't surprise you that I was wide awake at 3 am.
About 9:20 I thought someone was trying to start a small war. In the near distance, it seemed, came first single "shots" or explosions, then multiples, for about 10 minutes. No sirens, though, for some time, so I decided it was just odd fireworks and rolled over. Looking at the news this morning didn't enlighten me. The Olympic stadium was opened last night, but with a mass balloon release rather than fireworks, going by the video clip on the BBC. And Stratford East is rather a long way from Kings Cross. A mystery.
It would be pleasant to catch a little more sleep before heading for the V&A for a busy day of exhibitions.