Frustrating. No, explained the clerk mostly hidden behind the counter, they couldn’t actually access my cycle reservation and print off the ticket. The one I’d been told was absolutely essential to board with a bike. He shrugged his shoulders. I did likewise and then wandered off. Pointless.
The woman on the ticket barrier was much more helpful. I’d explained my predicament. She understood. Yes, she assured me, I’d be allowed to board when I returned in a few days time with my brother’s bike. I’d be my only form of independent transport for a while. Of course, I’d my trusty steed. But nobody takes a Lamborghini to the supermaket.
I was off to the Norfolk coast to spend a couple of days helping my brother and his family move house. Sold to me as a fine tonic for jet-lag. And chance to start the long process of catching up with family and friends.
