Andrew Bowman wrote:
> The boyfriend of a colleague of mine who lived in Essex often went out
> drinking after work, and once, having managed to stagger on to the right
> train at Liverpool Street, awoke to find himself at the far end of the line,
> having missed his stop.
I was up in Dundee for a month or so a few years back doing my flying
training with the RAF. The last ngiht I was there we went out on a 'king
bender and the next morning, feelign a little worse for wear, I caught
the train back down to Peterborough.
At Edinburgh I made a phone call to the people I was staying with when
I'd be there and then pegged it to the platform to catch the train ... I
got on, gave my ticket to the inspector and fell asleep before we even
left the station.
I had the strangest dream that I was on the Tay Bridge and the plane I'd
been flying only yesterday was flying over us and then, later, I woke
up.
In Montrose.
My brain whirred and clunked, Monstrose, Montrose. As in Rose of
Montrose? A Scottish song? Ran to the ticket office and asked where I
was. I was in Montrose. Bugger. When's the next train to Edinburgh. Oh,
you've missed that but the last one to Dundee is leaving now. Peg, peg,
peg. Last train. Turn up at flying school again looking sheepish. Nother
bender.
Sigh.
