Well, things started out ok. I walked in the sunshine from my hotel the ten minutes to the station, only 30 minutes early for my train. I got some food from the handy shop adjoining the building.

I stood in the sun on the platform. For a regional station there was a surprising amount of art and interesting things along the platform.

Two trains were listed on the board, one for Manchester at 10:13 and one at 10:16. My ticket said 10:16 so I asked at the information counter and the lady said to wait for the 10:16. Turns out there was no 10:16 and I missed my train, despite being ridiculously early AND asking for clarification.

I waited another 45 minutes for the next train, realising this was going to make me late so I phoned Rick (the widower of my second cousin, Angela… my second cousin in law?) to let him know I was going to be late.

I took a few more photos to pass the time.

Eventually the train arrived and I went one stop to Lancaster to change for the train to Manchester, where I was going to change for the train to Whaley Bridge.

On the platform I talked to a lady who looked about my age but who was originally from South Africa. We had an interesting talk about places you feel connected to – she has lived in England so long she had an English accent and didn’t speak Afrikaans, so when she went back she didn’t feel like she quite belonged. I said I’d always felt a connection to Lancaster as I’d never stopped there but my grandfather was from that part of the world.

Anyhow, I’m sitting on the train to Manchester and the ticket collector very kindly let me off having a ticket for an earlier train and didn’t make me but a new one. I hope the collector on the next service is so nice!

I’ve entertained myself with marking a map of my travel in Cumbria. Green is walking, orange is public transport.

There’s so much I haven’t done!