Music Hath Charms . . .

I had enjoyed a most enjoyable, if occasionally bizarre, weekend. Naturally, it was time to pay for it.

The storm which lashed across the South of England in the early hours of Monday had completely banjaxed the rail links to the North and East (wrong type of trees on the line, apparently; the flooding of the Potters Bar tunnel didn't help, either), so, like thousands of other would-be travellers, I found myself stranded at King's Cross waiting to see if any trains might run that day.

Having nothing else to do for a while, I walked across to St Pancras, a place which holds such warm and happy memories for me, just to admire the wonderful architecture and take a peek at the newly restored hotel, which is magnificent. I was tired, aching, hungry, thirsty and, to quote Colin Baker, pissed-off, really dreadfully pissed-off.

Suddenly, I became aware of the sound of a piano being played in the lower concourse and set out to investigate. To my surprise, there was an elegant lady playing, not to entertain passers-by (although she did receive a round of applause), but just for the joy of making music. I completely forgot what a bloody awful day I was having as I, like many others, listened to her performance. Who could help but smile at such a simple and unexpected pleasure? My mood lifted and stayed that way until I went to bed back at the Club, still smiling.

So, play on, Allison, and thank you very much for transforming my day.