Today I made the first leg of the journey to London and I had a really heartening experience at Euston Station, which I wouldn’t have had down as the friendliest place in Britain. To get from the platform to the taxi rank you need to negotiate three steep flights of stairs and to my amazement, as I stood looking helpless with my luggage at the top of each one a stranger offered to help me carry them down. I thought that only happened to blondes and little old ladies, but on reflection perhaps I look more like Mr McGregor than I’m prepared to admit.
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