There’s less to count these days, but I still do it. Whenever I leave a train, or a bus, and especially planes and airport lounges and the like. I count the bags and the people I brought with me. Luckily we only had the one suitcase the time Offspring and I had to jump off a train into a field in the dark in southern Sweden, and Son was big enough to look after it, while I hauled Daughter.
We had a few more items to count, the year the Resident IT Consultant took it upon himself to be in hospital at the wrong end of Sweden, when it was time to leave the country. After sympathising for a couple of days the ghastly witch decided to leave without him, which meant rather more luggage than intended. ‘I’ll pick you up at the airport said neighbour PS’, but I don’t think he had contemplated quite how to move me and Offspring and ten bags/cases through the barricaded-off bit where only taxis could go.
On the cover of WBD book Ten Stations by Jenny Valentine, it says ‘Remember to take all your family when leaving the train…’ Obviously they don’t, or there wouldn’t be a story to tell. It’s a great tale, about losing Grandad and little brother on a ten station tube journey.
It’s Lucas from Finding Violet Park, and his sister, who do the losing. Ironic, when you consider the pains he took to look after the urn with Violet’s ashes in the first book. Not only is it good to re-visit former book characters, but it’s an enlightening story on family ties.
Loved their alternate tube map by Simon Patterson, travelling between Peter Fonda and Arthur Schopenhauer (Camden Town to South Kensington).