I should be at the football right now.
Instead I shall share my comedy of errors, about going home.
Woke up this morning (i'll tell ya all about my last night out in Derby - very amusing later) packed, and pootled down to catch my 10am train.
Very windy out, I noticed.
So reach the train station. The noticeboard is flashing.
"No direct services to London St Pancras. Due to a fire."
So I rang to inform the parents that I was going to Luton and to check that the Thameslink trains still went to S.P.
While waiting it began to rain, Believe me Derby rainstorms have to be seen to be believed, but this was one of the best.
"We regret to inform all customers that due to adverse weather conditions we are running no services to the North and West. We urge all customers to only travel if absolutely necassary."
Well I was heading dahn sarf and it was an essential journey.
Jumped on the train.
I had my tardis rucksack and sleeping bag tied on, but was nowhere to put it.
The Tannoy bing-bonged into life.
"We regret to inform that we are running emergancy services today due to adverse weather conditions and wish to remind you all that we're not going to London, this is due to a fire at Cricklewood.
Bus services will be available to London but as the motorway is very busy, we cannot give anymore details."
Me. "huh-wha?"
Finally manage to dump the tardis and find a seat and we reach Leicester where we get joined, by a large group of Forest fans on their way to QPR. Midland Mainline run services from Nottingham to S.P but their train caught fire or something that involved a fire.
So we carry on our merry way, and are informed that there is no bus service available, we can get taxis though, but Midland Mainline will not pay for these.
Yeah. Like I can afford to pay for a taxi to Fucking St Pancras, it'll be a good 20 if not 40 quid and I am boracic.
Ring the folks again and ask them to find out what they can.
We reach Wellingborough.
we get stopped in a field in the middle of nowhere.
We sit outside for twenty minutes and I'm starting to get a bit concerned about getting home, reckon I should get home about half one, maybe two.
We sit outside for twenty minutes before they tell us the train on our platform has broken down.
We start to go backwards.
BACKWARDS???????!!!!!!!!
So we get put onto the slow train line.
Eventually we reach Luton, and are told there is a bus. So i ring Dad, who has decided to drive up to Luton to get me.
I'm standing with the Forest fans and a group of Scunthorpe fans and get told there's a football bus.
Cool, i think in my innocent little way, a bus to make sure that we get to S.P and to the games. (its now 12.05.)
Bit of a push, but we might make it.
Two coaches pull up. "Right, this first one's for Scunthorpe, the second for Forest."
What about the rest of us? other poor harrassed people ask.
"Ah, yes. we'll actually we don't care. Tell you what get on a train to St Albans, and there maybe a bus service to St Pancras, but to be honest we don't give a shit cos once your there, you aint our problem."
We go through St Albans on the way down, why didn't they just get us to get off there?
So I tell Dad to carry on coming up.
And i sit down to wait, watching the clock.
half hour passes, Still a push, but might make it.
I wonder what time they stop letting us into the ground?
Hour later.
I'm fucking freezing, tired, hungover, and desperate for the loo, I have so much in my Tardis that I can't physically fit it into the loo with me.
Finally one hour and twenty minutes later. (2:20pm) Dad comes to get me.
Concede defeat in the fight to get to the game.
Still, we're winning 4-1, so that's something.