Clearly…clearly…I mean, yeah, clearly assumptions are made from time to time. For some reason the travel booking thing at work had made me seat reservations for the return journey back from Rugby – this was the journey I had requested be flexible. The journey to Rugby I had specified – so I could save the company some money, you feel me? Even though this was the case I had the reservations for the journey back on Wednesday.

Because I’m a savvy bastard I could use this information: I just need to get to the same station where I had to change (trains) on the way back. Definitely, that’s definitely all you have to do isn’t it? There is no way that because one journey goes via  a certain station on one journey then that is the only possible route and there is never a better option.

So my work had me booked coming home via Crewe. So, I just had to get to Crewe this morning, right? And because I am so super organised and was at the station at 0655  for my 1935 train I saw a train leaving for Crewe. Great. Jumped on it – I am not too shabby at all this. At this rate I would possibly be at the meeting venue before I had set off – that’s an OTT (over the top) way of saying I was making great time, clearly I couldn’t get the before I had set off: efficient is one thing but that is a crazy suggestion.

Well, lo and behold that I went from being 30 minutes ahead of schedule to an hour behind schedule. This meant that I missed the minibus picking the group up and had to get a taxi on my own. I don’t really like going fast or being driven around country lanes. My prayers were answered with my taxi driver: an old man who seemed to require very thick glasses to see things – and they weren’t quite enough for him as he kept leaning over the wheel. Clearly the extra centimetre or two made a huge difference. There was no way Magoo would go quickly or take the route on the old back roads, except that he did. And he did.

For this reason I was paying close attention to Rugby FM. The news was on. The SECOND story was that the previous night actress Joanna Page had retweeted a  thing about a missing Rugby dog – that was taken in a burglary at the weekend. That was the second story: not about the original burglary or a dog being found but the third/fourth lead in a very good BBC sitcom from a few years ago retweeting that the thing had happened several days ago.

I had missed the first. But I made sure I didn’t leave my coat in the taxi so I wasn’t the top story tomorrow.