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Similarly, I was once waiting for an early train at Dent station on the Settle-Carlisle Line (up north somewhere). After some delay an announcement was made that it would be cancelled due to a ‘landslip’.
When two locals subsequently arrived I informed them that there had been a ‘landslip’ and that the train wouldn’t be leaving.
One of them turned to the other, chuckled, and said, “Oh, that’s what they’ll have said. It’ll be old Tom, the driver. It was his daughter’s wedding yesterday and they’ll have had a hell of a night at the Legion. He won’t have fancied it this morning”.
I was once told by staff at Hampton Court (an end-of-the-line station) that there was some doubt as to whether a particular scheduled train would be leaving at the appointed time (or whether it would even leave at all) because no one knew if the driver ‘would want to go out again’.
Mine stopped working. Turned out there was a split in it. Like you, mine took ages to replace. Came back with a different photo of me on it. No idea where they got it from.
Was able to carry on using the defective one in the meantime but had to explain the situation to bus drivers/ticket inspectors etc every time, which soon became unbearably tedious.
Bus drivers, TBF, generally couldn’t be arsed and just waved the poor old git on (along with all the other people who just refuse to pay).
It’s a toss up between A Windmill In Old Amsterdam (‘I saw a mouse, where …?’) and Swinging On A Star. These were the first two songs I taught my god-daughter, which she liked to sing in the back of my cab every morning on the way school.
Happy days. She’s turning 20 this week. No idea where the time went.
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