Inauspicious but typical start

I am at Reading Station having missed my connection due to a delayed train from Newbury.  It got stuck behind a broken down train.  Common story.  Looking forward to Theresa May's investment in the infrastructure.  Will this ever happen? 

I grab a peppermint tea and have a wander to find a plaque that was brought to my attention by a fellow LibDem. 

I have enlarged it so you can read it. 

It is such a sad story, and so recent in a way.  I found this on wiki

Extreme weather was the cause of an early casualty in the station's history. On 24 March 1840, whilst the station was nearing completion, 24-year-old Henry West was working on the station roof when a freak wind (described at the time as a tornado) lifted that section of the roof, carrying it and West around 200 feet (61 m) away; West was killed.   On the wall of the main station building there is a brass plaque, commemorating the event.

What would Henry make of the modern version of 'Reading General' ? 

I am looking forward to a holiday.  Life has been very busy as a Liberal Democrat activist and parish councillor.  It's good to get away but I will miss my family and friends.  No need to be melodramatic here; I am only going for two weeks. 

The plan is to have a short break in Malaga to visit the Museo Ruso and Pompidou Centre, two things I haven't done before, then meet up with my chum in Sevilla and spend a night there. Then we will head over to Cadiz, our home from home.

Today I had quite a good start with a swim and fitness yoga class.  This was great for my stress level.  As usual I am sad to leave and suggest to myself that perhaps it would be good to be content with what is within easy reach: my family, home, activities and of course the old rabbit who I will miss like crazy.  

On the train to Gatwick I catch up on the news and when other people's music, chat and babies get too much, stick in my own ear phones for Woman's Hour.  Grumpy Old Woman.  

It all gets tricky at Gatwick.  Despite specific instructions from T of N, I end up in the wrong hotel.  I head into the dark and three minutes later I am in a massive queue (free lime juice for people waiting) which is cleared rapidly and politely by young European employees despite stroppy British clientelle making a fuss and holding up the show.  

A pint of Boddies later (in honour of my old man) I am feeling fine and dandy.  A broad bean burger and then to bed!