We climbed out of the train at Glasgow, tired and aching after the long journey.
“Which platform for our connection?” Gabi asked, looking at the info boards.
“Ah, the connection is a bus.”
“A bus?” The horror in her voice was almost comical. You’d think she wasn’t hopping on and off buses all the time in London. “You are joking?”
“No. The bus takes us to a different railway station and we get a train from there.”
“The first thing we do when we get back to London,” she said as we went looking for the bus, me dragging the wheeled suitcase and wondering why we hadn’t bought two small ones instead of a big one. “The very first thing, is buy a car.”
“We agreed we don’t need a car. We don’t have anywhere to park it. We’d have to pay the congestion charge to drive it to work, through awful
