Let the train take the strain

Last week's silky dream of a commute into London was clearly that -- a dream. This week, I walked PJ up to the station (he's still not so good on navigation) to catch the 7.48, strolled home, went back to sleep for 30 minutes, and was woken up by PJ ringing the doorbell at 8.30. The 7.40 had broken down at Shawford, delaying all the subsequent trains, leaving crowds eight-deep at Winchester Station and no prospect of getting into London. Ho hum. He did make it in later on in the day and back again without any problem, though -- and got a full refund on his ticket and was able to get a cheaper fare later on, so it wasn't all bad. And walking uphill to the station twice in a morning was damn good exercise.