Crossing

Warm when I woke up—enough to have the fan on in my home office to take the edge off. I’d originally planned to go in to the real office today but decided to stay home. Partly for the sake of my fellow commuters, mostly so I didn’t spend every meeting coughing into the mic.

I’d packed for the Isle of Wight last night, but something told me to double-check. Glad I did—the lightweight trousers I wanted weren’t in the flat after all but hiding in the wardrobe here at home. I’m still not entirely sure about going. The weather looks promising, but I’m wary of coughing my way through three days in a field with nowhere quiet to recover. I did write a bit about the build-up though—some half-nostalgic, half-hopeful thoughts on packing, déjà vu, and leaving the wellies behind: Festival déjà vu.

We had a useful overview today of the ongoing strategy work. It’s encouraging to see things moving, and I hope we can keep the sense of boldness as we go. No one wants a rehash of what’s come before just because it feels safer.

Then came the journey. I rushed to Raynes Park and, inevitably, discovered my railcard had expired. Managed to renew it en route to Waterloo—slightly amazed I had enough signal to do so. Waterloo itself was packed, my train had extra stops added, and we had to crawl through a patchwork of signal failures. The air con was down in some of the carriages, and just when I thought we’d cleared the worst of it, we hit a points failure. So, a month into nationalisation, and I’m not exactly seeing a golden age of rail travel unfolding just yet.

By the time I made it onto the ferry, I was running about an hour later than planned. Still, good to finally get to Ryde. Warm breeze off the Solent, and as I walked towards the esplanade, I spotted the shuttle bus waiting for festivalgoers. That familiar low-level buzz of excitement starting to hum. I went shopping and on to the flat.

PY’s train was even worse off. He made the very last FastCat from Portsmouth Harbour with about three minutes to spare. A narrow escape, and not the calmest of starts. But we’re both here, and the weekend is ahead.