I had a meeting at 12.30 in London.
I was on time for the 8.55 from Cardiff.
Only the 8.55 wasn't planning on turning up to 9.56
The 9.25 was also due in at 9.56.
Before it was cancelled.
The 9.55 was still scheduled for 9.55
Then, at 9.40 a train turned up on the platform. "Get on!" yelled platform staff, "It's a surprise!"
And it was. For everyone, including the train driver, who'd been hoping to go to Taunton.
By the time I got to London, I was late for my meeting, which I *just* made by cycling furiously across town, cunningly disguising a hideous spot on my nose with concealer at some traffic lights, and rushing into the meeting, which turned out to be behind the prop store, up some stairs next to a broken microwave.
Shirt flapping out, trousers falling down, earphones scraping along the floor, dripping with sweat, I bumped into the Affair, who looked as smooth as a hunting cat. "Goodness," he said, "There's something on your nose."
Half a stick of spot concealer.