Hello everyone. It has been a long time. Too long, in fact, since I have shared any of my adventures with my dear friends at CUK.
So without further ado, as I slip into a set of black leathers for this comeback post, allow me to divest myself of my recent activities.
The fact of the matter is that I've been feeling a little depressed of late and have been through a rather introspective period in which I have had to reassess my whole raison d'etre; a bit of soul searching, if you like. I went to a very dark place but, now I'm out the other side I've decided that I'm going to "take my lumps"
and hold my head high. No longer am I a weedy, bespectacled trainspotter but a modern day Don Quixote astride my trusty recumbent bicycle, Rosinante, coming to the rescue of damsels in distress on the British rail network.
A recent experience highlights this perfectly.
I had popped into Bristol to buy myself a new Morphy Richards toaster in the Argos summer sale. I got there half an hour before opening time so as to be at the front of the queue and in no time was walking up Temple Way with my new purchase feeling rather pleased with myself. So pleased, in fact, that I thought I'd treat myself to a mug of fair trade tea from the Wild Bean Cafe on platform 11.
Much my annoyance, I discovered that the cafe was closed on arriving at the platform. So, with a shrug of the shoulders, I was about to go to the end of the platform to mingle with a gaggle of rail enthusiasts when, prompted by the outraged muttering of my fellow travellers, my inner knight of the woeful figure spoke to me and prompted me to commit a selfless deed of knight errantry.
I jumped up onto a bench and announced to the assembled commuters that for every 10p that came in my direction, a nice piping hot slice of toast would be proffered in the other. A lot of jingling of loose change followed and I hot footed it to the station master's office where I plugged in my toaster and and was very soon on my knees buttering away like billy-oh. We got through 8 loaves of Nimble and the operation was such a success that the station master is going to let the operation become a regular service on the proviso he gets his breakfast special every day.
If you're ever stuck at Bristol TM feeling a little peckish and the Toast Club sign is hanging from the station master's door you know your luck is in!
So without further ado, as I slip into a set of black leathers for this comeback post, allow me to divest myself of my recent activities.
The fact of the matter is that I've been feeling a little depressed of late and have been through a rather introspective period in which I have had to reassess my whole raison d'etre; a bit of soul searching, if you like. I went to a very dark place but, now I'm out the other side I've decided that I'm going to "take my lumps"
and hold my head high. No longer am I a weedy, bespectacled trainspotter but a modern day Don Quixote astride my trusty recumbent bicycle, Rosinante, coming to the rescue of damsels in distress on the British rail network.
A recent experience highlights this perfectly.
I had popped into Bristol to buy myself a new Morphy Richards toaster in the Argos summer sale. I got there half an hour before opening time so as to be at the front of the queue and in no time was walking up Temple Way with my new purchase feeling rather pleased with myself. So pleased, in fact, that I thought I'd treat myself to a mug of fair trade tea from the Wild Bean Cafe on platform 11.
Much my annoyance, I discovered that the cafe was closed on arriving at the platform. So, with a shrug of the shoulders, I was about to go to the end of the platform to mingle with a gaggle of rail enthusiasts when, prompted by the outraged muttering of my fellow travellers, my inner knight of the woeful figure spoke to me and prompted me to commit a selfless deed of knight errantry.
I jumped up onto a bench and announced to the assembled commuters that for every 10p that came in my direction, a nice piping hot slice of toast would be proffered in the other. A lot of jingling of loose change followed and I hot footed it to the station master's office where I plugged in my toaster and and was very soon on my knees buttering away like billy-oh. We got through 8 loaves of Nimble and the operation was such a success that the station master is going to let the operation become a regular service on the proviso he gets his breakfast special every day.
If you're ever stuck at Bristol TM feeling a little peckish and the Toast Club sign is hanging from the station master's door you know your luck is in!
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