I had an eventful day yesterday. My grandson was performing in a play at a London Theatre. Not the West End sadly but a small theatre in a former Colourworks paint factory described as; ` an Off West End theatre . It presents plays, operas and musicals featuring established and emerging artists. Needless to say my grandson is an emerging artist rather than an established one. This was the stage. No platform, no scenery, no props just two chairs and two orange boxes. The play was good and we met my grandson and some of the other actors in the bar afterwards. They were all very excited, all young aspiring people who worked for a living doing humdrum jobs until they are `discovered`. We set off for the train home only to find our train was delayed and all following trains cancelled due to a signal box failure. The crowd gathered, all anxiously staring at the departure board waiting for a miracle. Paul had gone to get himself, me and my daughter in law Julie coffees when the board changed and our train was announced for platform 11. Thank goodness for mobile phones. Julie phoned Paul while we rushed onto the platform hoping for a seat. The train doors did not open and we and a million others stood for at least half an hour waiting and hoping, on guard by our respective doors. Then came an announcement the train on Platform 13 was the one for us and there was a stampede to the next but one platform everyone really anxious to get home. We managed to get seats and arrived at our destination at 1.30am. We took it in good heart but I imagine regular travellers didn`t take it so lightly.