A Walking Talking Jinx

So I went down to the Central Belt last week. Flight down to Glasgow was delayed by 30 minutes, but that's par for the course these days, especially in tourist season. The airport in Kirkwall was stiff with people, which isn't anything I've ever seen before. Mind you we now have two airlines serving Orkney; Flybe, known locally as Flymaybe as they aren't  the most reliable airline in the world, especially in relation to island flights,  and Loganair, who very recently became a standalone outfit rather than a franchise one. So now we have all the excitement of two check in desks for two different airlines. It'll be check in machines for people and baggage before we know where we are. As an aside, I've got quite used to checking myself in, but still resent having to do my own bags, although Edinburgh and Vancouver are the only places I've been where that's the rule rather than the exception. 

Anyway I flitted about while south and everything was very smooth, to the extent that I made two very foolish assertions; I said to a friend last Friday that I had never had a problem with Scotrail and to my son on Saturday morning that all the travelling had gone really smoothly on this trip. I said that as we were setting out to walk to the local rail station, where the plan was to catch a train to Queen Street Station, settle myself in my pre-booked  seat on the train to Aberdeen and arrive there with plenty of time for a quick look in a couple of shops before making my way to the ferry. 

Sadly and for  no apparent reason all the local trains in Glasgow were cancelled for the weekend. No problem I thought, I will get a taxi and promptly rang for one. Twenty minutes later, with still no sign of it, I checked with firm, pointing out I had a train to catch and if I missed it I'd miss my ferry and if I missed my ferry I'd be stuck in Aberdeen  for anther couple of days. (There are worse things I know , although Aberdeen is an expensive place to be stuck!) I was promised I'd be a priority and I waited again in increasing agitation as time ticked by and no taxi appeared. When I rang again after another 15 minutes had passed and prospects of catching the train were receding very quickly indeed  I was told rather rudely that if I was in that much of a hurry I should flag down a passing black cab (because yes! they regularly cruise up and down Maryhill Road on the off chance of getting a fare - not) 

Well, long story short, I did get home, although I had to pay for another train ticket which didn't amuse me at all, and really it will be a cold day in hell before I say anything sweeping about smooth journeys and non-problematic transport again. 

I compounded all this by reflecting yesterday - I mean, I didn't even say it out loud for goodness sake - how amazing it was that I had never spilt my coffee or tea over my knitting, given that my knitting lives in a selection of bags at the end of the sofa and  my drinks are usually placed on the arm just above them. 

I think I don't even have to spell out where that one went ...