The journey to Swanage passed with little incident. Jack simply stood on my lap and enjoyed the ride. The return trip was however a little more fraught with peril. Turns out the folk sat in the seats directly behind us were what I would term local train folk. I had no chance to count, but I suspect each one of them had a minimum of six digits per hand. Or possibly per paw. I really have nothing against people of this ilk, but fuck me they really are odd.It's a diesel one of the train folk squawked as another locomotive passed us by. It then went on to declare they would be running up to midnight in the next few weeks, giving one of those encouraging nods that say " come join us, I guarantee nothing will happen to you or your family". At that point I picked up my two year old son and took him for a gentle stroll in the opposite direction.
My wife, mother in-law and father in-law were all left to fend for themselves. I got off the train before anyone else and stood holding my son waiting for any sign of the remaining members of my family. Would I be bringing Jack up on my own from now on, would I be giving an interview to the News of the world before tea time, the headline Twilight Train strikes again.
