This was one of those days when nothing went quite right at any level. As a favour to a forum member Romford and I had agreed to escort some young American ladies on an expedition to the delights of Wigan. That plan failed at the first hurdle as the young ladies in question, presumably having found “Wigan” in their guidebook next to the word “avoid” failed to meet the appointed meet at Euston. Joyful, being of more hardy stock than our cousins from across the water, had made Euston in time for departure and Romford’s lad Luke completed the quartet that made its way north.