FIRST AID

Wilson came down from the footplate rubbing his nose and complaining that he'd singed his sniffer while examining the stoke hole.

'It's not a serious injury, New Dad,' he told me, 'I think if some ice-cream were applied to the scorched area, that might bring some relief.'

A 99 Flake was duly administered and we got on the train (or entrained, or possibly even re-entrained) to return to the main station.

The journey back was a somber affair, what with W's trauma and with Antony and TT constantly complaining that their noses were sore too. 

Wilson relented and the children helped him finish off his ice cream, as he explained to them that nobody knows why they're called 99s, but they just are!

One of his favourite jokes is: when I buy a cone for the two of us and ask for 'Two 99s, please,' he ALWAYS shouts, '198! Hahahahaha!'

Oh, simple pleasures…