We bid farewell to our four days at the Wyndham and hied selves to yon Paddington Station. I saw no adorable bears, but did note the presence of a porridge-to-go kiosk! Piping hot, it claims. While waiting on our train, Mr. Button got snagged by a fashionable young woman eager to relate her life's story. A tendency I'll never quite understand. Time to board finds us hopping on the first car we come to. This is known in some circles as "first class." It didn't enter our minds we might be in the wrong car. We settled into the comfy seats with the commodious table. I cranked up my iPod, and we were off. Oh, look, here comes the ticketmeister! It is shortly revealed that we are in the wrong car. However, special deal for weekends: upgrade to first class for five pounds each. Hell yeah! Last thing I wanted to do was drag luggage through a swiftly moving train to lesser accommodations.
Once one is out of the London outskirts industrial dirtiness, it's a beautiful ride. Here: some scenes.
But.......what's this?
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