How I almost helped run the country and other fantastic tales in England (it’s a long one)

Story One

Its 9.30 and I am on my way to London where I have a meeting with a one of the children who I work with. This will be the umpteenth time I have gone up there to receive my monthly dose of silence from him. However, today was going to be a different sort of day.

The train I am on is not going to where I want, so I have to switch trains at a place called Clapham Junction, a nice little area in South London and home to Britain’s busiest rail station. I am not sure why I changed here versus East Croydon, where I would have normally changed, but none the less, here I am. I get off my train, one on which I had a seat and was warm and look around to find the next train to Victoria, my final destination. I see on a different platform that there is a train pulling up and if I run I can make it.

Off I go… down the stairs… over to the other side… up a set and stairs… hurry now, the doors are going to close… run up to the first carriage… ohhhhh, looks full… push my way on… and off we go.

As I look around, I notice that there are men standing far too close to me (the problem being not that they are men, but that these people are too close for my comfort). I start to look closer at them and notice that some of them have an ear piece in their ear with a curly wire coming out and over their ear and into their shirt collar. I start to think how self important these people are. I mean who really needs to have these things in their ear unless they are listening to a Vikings vs. Cowboys game. Then I notice that some of them have little microphones in their sleeves.

Okay, I now start to think that perhaps I am actually living a Tom Clancey novel. Am I the main character? Jeffrey Raich, super spy and world saver.

Perhaps not!

I look around to see who could be that important. I notice that some of these men are standing in the way to first class, a place that a lowly social worker is not normally allowed to go. I don’t recognise anybody. And then I see someone, larger then life, or actually the exact same size as life. I know him. Hell, he’s famous. I mean really, super duper famous. Guess who?

It’s Tony Blair for goodness sake!

I mean really, there he is sitting within spitting distance of me. Actually, given how far I can spit, he is even closer then that. I could have reached out and touched him if it weren’t for the 10 oversized gorillas in suits. Can you imagine a president of the US riding public transport and allowing any Tom, Dick, or Jeffrey on at the same time! No way!

In actual fact, he did not notice me, but had he I am sure that he would have asked me to join him for tea or biscuits or ask me how to fix the social service system… or perhaps he would have just said excuse me because by this time the doors were opening and it was time to get off the train.

Story Two

Imagine if you will a ship that is loaded with thousands of containers of goods. Everything from BMW motorcycles to bottles of wine. Now imagine that it is sinking and all these things are washing up on the shores of England. Then imagine that people from far and wide are going to sort through these things and take what they can.

What you will have is the situation in the south of England. This very thing is currently taking place. It is phenomenal and you know what? I bet dollar to donut that our stuff is there. Wouldn’t that be the kicker… our stuff is declared lost, no one knows where it went, and then a year and half later it turns up on the shores of England and the rest of the country gets to see my underwear!

Story Three

Snow! Let there be snow! What a difference snow can make. As we woke up this morning there was a soft haze to the window. It was as if either the city was on fire (not a good thing) or the light was being reflected off of something. As I parted the curtains I was hit with the wonderful image that was snow covering everything in site. You know the kind - the kind that is pure white, magical, and beautiful. The kind that no one has yet disturbed. The kind that makes the very best snowballs. That is the kind we had.

Well, it’s been some time since we had seen any real snow and to be honest it may continue to be some time. We got very little snow, probably less then a couple of centimetres. But it was great fun. Mia was very vocal about wanting to go outside right away. So mummy and daddy and Mia got dressed up and out we went.

Andrea's very zen moment

The view of our back garden

Cleaning my bike

Building the snowgirl

Our snowgirl

The snowgirl's arms

The final snowgirl

This is one view of the snow.

The other view of the snow is from a person who has to travel via public transport.

I went to the station as always; however I was a bit hesitant. I had heard that in this country when it snows everything shuts down. As I approached the platform to wait for my train I was struck by the shear numbers of people. In fact, everything was coming to a halt, a sliding, slippery halt. Trains were very late, by 1.5 hours in some cases. So my journey that was to normally take 50 minutes or so in actuality took 2 hours.

In the autumn it is said that trains can be late because of leaves on the tracks. There are machines that clear the tracks, but not very well. The excuse that is given is that the leaves are the wrong kind of leaves for the machine. Well today I heard that the snow was the wrong kind of snow for the machines. How many kinds are there? I guess the white and wet kind is not the kind that these particular machines clear from the tracks.