Today I’m wearing: The Dress; lovely handwash-only so I never wear it Gap jumper; burgandy tights from somewhere; boots that are warm and sturdy.
I have spent the past 24 hours in transit. Yesterday was the second most stressful train journey I have ever undertaken. From my taxi driver sucking his teeth and going “you’re probably going to miss this train, what with these roadworks/traffic lights/volume of traffic/zombies in the road”, to the train breaking down at Newcastle and the guard announcing, “Please transfer to the train on platform 3, which leaves in 3 minutes”, it was not the most relaxing of afternoons. In fact, it was unnecessarily stressful; I was 20 minutes early for my train at Glasgow, and discovered that I can actually sprint when heavily ladden with luggage. Oh, and I have razor sharp elbows, which are incredibly useful in a cross-station Tombraider-style situation.
But then I reached York and home, and there were fish and chips so all was well. Until I missed my bus this morning: time management is not something I’m brilliant at. This time my dear father stepped in and gave me a lift, even though he was nearly late for his ice skating lesson (he’s going cross-country ice skating in Sweden on Wednesday. He’s a professional explorer.)
Anyway, all is well and I am in Ripon, blogging from my 4-poster bed. The heating is on, Jude is making dinner and I am happy.
I did promise an ODOM extravaganza, but one brother went to Wakefield and the other brother had his girlfriend over, so my photo-taking plans fell through. Mum took these outside Ripon’s cathedral.