Its hot in the city, the pavements sizzle in the enjoyment of the rare glare of sunshine. The five of us walk through the streets of London shouting with glee everytime we spot a Wenlock and knocking down tourists in order to get the obligatory photo.
Together we have strolled almost three miles, delighting in killing time in our capital city. We bounced into St Pauls and then left quickly when we realised we couldn’t maintain a churchly silence. We waved at Big Ben and beamed with pleasure when he chimed back at us. We lunched on the square with the bankers and appreciated the feel of our cotton shorts as business men and women sweated in their collars and ties.
We were also overflowing with excitement, after leaving the hotel watching the clock tick towards 4pm when we were off to start our Harry Potter Tour at Warner Brothers Studio in Watford, our pleasant stroll took us steps closer to Euston station where our train would depart at 2.54.
I checked the times again on my phone to ensure we wouldn’t be late and then a big black word jumped out at me.
The heat in the city had frazzled a power line, the trains were cursed and we weren’t going anywhere without a broomstick or a portkey.
Then I saw it…
A tiny glimmer of hope…
One train was running, and it was leaving in nine minutes.
Looking at my family with desperation in my eyes I screamed “run” and off we set.
Limbs, legs and breasts started to wobble with the speed. Children set off like Bolt and shamed us with their speed. Last night’s knickers flew out of the dirty laundry bag under the buggy and beads of sweat fell from he who helped create thems brow.
Euston loomed before us and as the sun beat down on us from above we carried on as if magic was powering us on.
“C’mon mummy,” screamed my children.
“Go mummy go” cajoled BB from her buggy.
It felt like the end of the marathon, I closed my eyes and heard the crowd urging me on. I could do this, I pushed the buggy on with my legs propelling me forward.
I lurched into the station, hair stuck out at angles fixed into place with sweat. My face glowed with heat, my clothes stuck to me in an unsightly fashion. I screeched to a halt in front of my husband and older two children and fell to my knees in exhaustion. As I struggled to breathe I valiantly managed to choke out the words “which platform?”
Twin boy looked at me with accusation in his eyes.
“Start looking for Platform 9 and 3/4 that is the only way we are getting there, the other train left minutes ago.”
Bollocks was my unspoken response.
Still as we all know this story has to have a happy ending. We called the tour, pushed the time back and eventually found a train to take us to Hogwarts.
And the tour?
We can’t reveal the secrets, we don’t want to share the magic, but we can tell you if you are Potter fans then you do not want to miss it.
In the words of Twin boy and girl; “It’s the best place ever!”
Thanks to Superbreak for giving us tickets and thanks to British Rail for making me sweaty.