Saturday I didn’t die. Granted, this is an assertion I can make about any day of the week, however this Saturday I can be more specific. I didn’t die in a train crash. Well, anyone who rides in a train and lives can make that claim. To clarify: I didn’t die when the train I was in derailed.
Travelling between London and Sheffield on a fast, modern, comfortable and convenient example of the latest railway technology, the Eternal seemed terrifyingly close to the Earthly. The journey was easy, everyone made it onto the train on time. No baggage was forgotten and we quickly found our seats. Settling down for a two hour journey after a tiresome few days, I certainly expected to be sleeping most of the way.
Muse lulled me to sleep for half an hour. Upon awakening I was struck by the snow that towered above us on the banks, either side of the track. Most frustrating, that now I lacked any mobile phone signal.
After making a comment as to how similar the scene was to Narnia – via a quip about wardrobes – I settled down again with Muse and the white view out the window.
A jolt. A shuddering. A bag falls from the rack above. Read the rest of this entry »
on 
on 
