I have no excuse for this – and no real explanation either – except that it was Monday, the day God made first, when He hadn’t really got the hang of it.
It all started when I jolted myself awake at 6:20 from an interesting dream with the realisation that I had slept in. Only five minutes, but enough to throw the whole day off. I considered simply getting a later train, but then remembered what happened last time, so instead I decided to just hustle the whole getting up process a bit and still make it out the door for the 7:41. Big mistake. Because the upshot of that was that while my body was more or less up, showered, fed, coffee-d and dressed by 7:20, my brain was still blinking blearily at my watch and wondering what time it was. I managed to cycle safely enough to Vauxhall, in a bit of a daze, buy my ticket, purchase the correct newspaper, and get up to platform three with time in hand. Indeed the previous train had not yet departed so I sat down, and immersed myself in the morning’s news. And the next thing I knew it was 7:42, my train was departing and I was still sitting on the platform looking after its retreating rear lights in disgust. I had forgotten to get on the train. In fact, I think I had forgotten there was a train. And now there wasn’t another one for 15 minutes.
Fortunately, the gods – having seen what I could acheive with my own efforts – took pity on me and didn’t wreak further havoc on the day’s trains, so I got in okay, albeit a little embarrassed. I’m not sure when my brain got in to work though, if indeed it ever did. Perhaps I’ll find it somewhere along the way tomorrow.