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We turned up at the station to find all the trains had been cancelled. Instead they were laying on coaches. Our driver complained that he hadn't been issued with a map.

We were supposed to stop at various stations on the way, but we sailed past most of them because the driver didn't know they were there. "I'm not worrying about it," he said.

The baby sitting behind us was sick.

The tutorial was mainly about Great Expectations. We were discussing whether Dickens is a realist or not. In a literary context "realist" means something like "unsensational", "uneventful", "unexciting"- and what that has to do with Reality I really don't know.

We had lunch at the Indian restaurant where we are now greeted as regulars. I had a vegetable Bhuna, Ailz had a huge plate of meat- half of which she wrapped in a napkin and put away in her handbag. "See you next week," said the owner as we were leaving- thus creating a sense of obligation.

The driver for the return trip (also map-less) managed to find all but one of the stations.

We walked home from Oldham Mumps. There was pigeon lying in the road. A car swung round the corner and ran it over. I tried not to look. "Oh well," said Ailz, "at least it died with a full crop."

At the bottom of our road there's a house called Arnhem. I've always imagined it as the home of an old soldier with fond memories of World War II, but this afternoon, as we passed, we noticed it had a huge Irish tricolor draped from the bedroom window.

So I guess the old soldier has gone.
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