So what is it about daughter and tramps? Or rather, weird people who hang about railway stations?
A month or so back, she returns home all a-flutter to explain that she has been followed on the train from Stevenage (to Peterborough). Alarming, actually…and equally alarming that I am not sure she reported the incident to the correct authorities at the time.
Fast forward to yesterday, and she ends up at Peterborough station again, waiting to be picked up. Legitimately, I hasten to add. It is just that I am stuck behind a lorry on the way to the A1 and therefore late.
She drinks three coffees. Three? No wonder the girl is occasionally hyped up.
A man takes a seat beside her. He is drunk, apparently. He staggers over to the station shop and purchases a cornish pasty. He eats half of it before deciding that isn’t good enough. So he staggers back and helps himself to a further four pasties. According to daughter, he doesn’t pay.
Not that it makes much difference. He isn’t far down his inter-train snack before he gives up on the repast entirely – and throws up at her feet.
I shall keep my ears open for future incident – particularly any such incident involving tramps, drunks or pasties. I shall advise against her holidaying in Cornwall any time soon.