Awards count for nothing...

Given that I'm now an award-winning blogger I feel an even greater need to provide you, dear reader (hi mum!) with constantly updated snippets of my life. Which I am happy to do. Today, however, all I did was play with Brio trains and Thomas the Tank Engine with little Finn. My knees hurt a little bit from all the floor-based activity but, otherwise, there's nothing else to report. I do apologise - we must get out more.

To King's X and back...

Thrilling train ride to London King's Cross and back again. Literally. Got off the train, had one pint on Euston Road, then it was back on the train home, with camera pointed from the engine's cab to the railtrack for a short film title sequence. All for Ted Lewis – I hope he appreciates the effort. The Rt Hon Alan Johnson MP was sitting in the carriage with us on the way down. Reading the Telegraph, pouring over the latest on the expenses scandal. We got fed up of making comic asides about saving receipts etc and had a chat with him – well, camera guru Martin more than me, the two of them sharing an unhealthy interest in all things BAE Systems and Martin shamelessly conducting an OOV interview as his camera rolled. Alan made it clear that he was paying for the wine that he shared his table with, even though it looked as if he was going to get it gratis. Anyway, enough about politicians. Thanks Hull Trains for making it possible and also supplying me with some much-needed food (feta salad followed by fish platter in case you're wondering).

Snaps...

The keeper of this hand encroached on my space on the train last night. Look at it - do I pay £16.90 for this? Anyway, the keeper of this hand did redeem himself by making me laugh. We were just coming up to Selby when he caught the attention of a very elderly man sat across the aisle from him by repeatedly saying the word "Snaps!" "Snaps! Snaps! Snaps!" it went. The elderly man understandably looked puzzled and feared for his life. Then came an attempt at clarification: "Take the snaps!" It eventualy transpired that the keeper of the hand wanted his photograph taken with a high falutin' and very fancy mobile telephone but had, unfortunately, selected a man for the job who had not crossed paths with technology since the introduction of cylindrical music boxes. "This is the snaps button, you press it, it takes a snaps. Take a snaps of me!" The elderly chap complied with the demand and, after a lot of fumbling about, showed the keeper of the hand his photographic effort. "No good! This snaps is no good! You have taken too much snaps of the table. Do it again! Another snaps!" Thankfully, the subsequent snaps ("Another snaps! Another!) finally did the job. Phew. I thought at one point it would all end in tears. If you believe in karma then this thrilling entertainment was possibly all due to the elderly man snatching a Manchester Evening News that I had my eye on when I boarded the train but, rather than reading it, tucking it into his bag, which he then clutched tightly to his chest until the snaps incident.