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Into town today for a very positive meeting about a possible new book and then over to Leicester Square to do Paul Chowdhry’s Pudcast. I love Paul for his brashness, his sensitivity and mainly for his facial hair and it was an enjoyable 80 minutes of chat before I had to dash to Kings Cross so I could get home in time for the kids’ football training.
At the station I bought some cheap notebooks, thanks to the demise of Paperchase - your loss is my victory - and then made my way to my train. That departed at 3.22. An announcement came over the tannoy that the 3.25 to Middlebrough was ready for boarding. And I wondered what would happen to me if I got on that train instead of the one going to Welwyn Garden City. It would be a crazy thing to do of course, not least because if I was going to get the wrong train there were dozens of others, pretty much all going to nicer places than Middlesbrough. But also, even if I just got to Middlesbrough and then got a train home again it would mean I missed taking the kids to football and wouldn’t be around to look after the when Catie went out to a meeting that night. She’d be really angry.
And I think if I did it I’d be planning to make a new life for myself in Middlesbrough. It was a real Sliding Doors/Reggie Perrin moment. Was I going to stay in my happy and secure family life in Hertfordshire, doing podcasts and stand up to make a living OR was I going to live on the streets of Middlesbrough? I had about forty pounds in my wallet so I wouldn’t immediately starve, but I couldn’t use my credit cards without giving away my location, so I’d basically be begging for scraps pretty quickly. And yet the idea was appealing. Or at least the notion that you can just change your life in a moment like that.
Perhaps I should have taken advantage of this more when I was young and had no responsibilities and could just leap on a train to a place that I hadn’t thought about going to. I had no money then, but I wasn’t planning to pay for my ticket to Middlesbrough today, but to hide in the toilets and travel for nothing.
Would I do it?
This time, I decided no. But if I disappear then you will know where to start looking.
On the train home I had a little look on rightmove at my grandma and grandad’s old house, a modest 2 up 2 down terraced property. It had sold for over £100,000 in 2010, but then for around £80,000 in 2017 (which must have been a blow to the vendor). I am glad my grandma and grandad are dead because the surprise at how much their little house would one day sell for would definitely have killed them. I’d sort of hoped that the £40 in my wallet would buy a decent flat in Middlesbrough, so lucky I checked that.
