Devastated (a bit)

She wasn’t on the train. I waited by the barrier so I wouldn’t miss her. But she never came.

I had was about to leave when I heard a familiar clippety-clop. Turning around I saw Carole, teetering towards me on her white stilettos (what Germaine Greer likes to call ‘fuck me’ shoes) She was dragging one of those cases with wheels and a handle.

(You remember Carole? Council Estate? Husband Gary – inside? I’ve had many an enjoyable ride on her little Vespa.)

Coincidence? Synchronicity?

It turned out to be nothing of the kind.

‘Well, don’t stand there gawping –‘

‘But how… I mean why… where is Anastasia?

‘Cool it Buster. First things first. Where’s the nearest pub? Do you know, I’ve been two hours on that train – without a bar.’

We adjourned to the Station Hotel.


Note for RJ: I think you are mixing me up with someone else. The only time I met the lady in question she was married, with two children. Remember, you are much older than I am.